Quelle surprise!

I won the lottery today, and the premium bonds, and I hadn't even bought a ticket. Well, that's not strictly true. First of all I thought I was ushering at a masterclass today given by Thomas Allen, Ann Murray and Roger Vignoles, and then I discovered I wasn't. It was in my diary but I could find no ticket. I nearly decided to miss it rather than unravel the mystery, but thank heavens I didn't, and my ticket was waiting for me in the box office. Because who should have been singing but the girl I raved about last year, Veronique Rapin, the mezzo who sang Handel's Tamerlano in an Andreas Scholl masterclass and blew me away. There she was again, just the same, so highly strung you could have fired a rocket off her. Ann Murray was wonderful, kind, respectful, full of praise. "Good girl," she kept saying as you would encourage a child who was trying so hard to please but felt she was getting everything wrong and might give up the effort. Again and again she stopped singing mid verse, shook her hand in front of her face dismissively and berated herself. The emotion was palpable. In the end the dame put her hand on the slim shoulder (Do you mind if I touch you? No, no, no, of course not, no - jerky smile) and steadied her as she sang. It was a difficult song - Stop the Clocks by Auden, music by Britten - but she was incredible as always. The applause rang out long and loud for ages, everyone aware of the talent they were witnessing. Last year I missed the final recital as I was on a plane to France, but this time I've changed my plans and will be there on Friday. Shame it's Britten and not Handel again, but she could sing Ride a Cock Horse and I'd pay to hear it. And I wouldn't be the only one.

On a more prosaic note I took a photo of my helebores as they are looking so pretty, some of the rare colour in the garden at the moment. Indoors my house looks and smells like a florist shop, clouds of gorgeous blooms catching the ey at every turn, but it's still quite bare outside. The daffs will be out soon to join the helebores, the primroses and violets and pansies, the pot of small purple irises beside the summerhouse. But indoors it's already summer.