Surprise Surprise!

There was no sign of Cilla, but someone waved a magic wand and made my dream come true on Friday. I arrived in Cambridge at around 11.30 as instructed, in time to repair the blow-up bed and eat lunch before catching the train to London. After my last experience I wasn't taking any chances and sprayed First Defence up my nose at regular intervals. Does it work? Well, I haven't caught a bug this time. To Frank Auerbach at Tate Britain first, where we started with tea and then wandered through the exhibition delighting in some of his works and appalled by others. Funny how different art looks in the flesh. We headed to Liberty next to do some Christmas shopping and peel off a few thermal layers. I almost never see Oxford Street at Christmas these days, and it is beautifully lit, especially House of Fraser and John Lewis - millions of lights.

I was on a mystery birthday trip, slightly baffled to be in this region of London where apparently both dinner and the treat proper were to happen. Olivia kept a poker face every time I suggested a venue, giving nothing away. So not the opera then, and probably not a show or a play. What did that leave? I allowed myself to be lead into a restaurant she knows well where we chose a lot of small dishes to share and enjoy. The food was really good, and with every minute passing my excitement was rising. At last she said we had to go, and she steered me through highways and byways until we reached Wigmore Street. Still the penny didn't drop until we approached the Wigmore Hall, and I then I knew. At least I knew where, but not what. We got to our seats a few rows from the front, and I noticed a grand piano on the small stage. A pianist then, but who? Then I saw some tall microphones further along the stage, and I turned to Olivia, gripping her arm tightly. "Just tell me it isn't Iestyn Davies and I won't ask again." But it was! The girl knows me well: I'm passionate about this counter-tenor and have seen him in concert twice already. But when I've tried to get tickets for this and other concerts recently they've always been sold out.

Singing for us on Friday

It was a sublime concert, absolutely beautiful. I could scarcely believe I was there. Iestyn was joined for a few songs by tenor Allan Clayton, the pair described by the Telegraph as "chalk and cheese  - Davies cool, elegant and elfin, his voice a thing of rich honeyed sweetness and impeccable steadiness; Clayton more shambling and ursine and expansive, singing straight from the heart." Together they made glorious music, but alone as he mostly was the counter-tenor just blows the mind with the beauty of his sound, surely not something too far away from a castrato.

The excitement of the day wore us both out and we snoozed on the train home. The next day Olivia opened her computer and screamed, for responding to her comment about the concert on Twitter, Iestyn had not only added his own comment but is now one of her followers. Yes, that's Iestyn Davies. MY Iestyn Davies!