Bliss

Sublime is not the only word to describe Bach's St Matthew Passion, but when you add John Eliot Gardiner and his magnificent Monteverdi Chorus and Orchestra playing on period instruments, it's a hard one to beat. Last night Snape was crammed to the gunwhales, and though people had been asking for returns for weeks there weren't any. Most of the tickets had gone to the Friends, so I was lucky to be ushering. I showed Joan Bakewell to her seat, and gave her my penultimate libretto before running out to general dismay. She is luminous, still lovely though I believe she is 80. I wish my hairdresser could get my hair the colour of hers. Lord Deben, John Gummer as was, complained that there were holes in his seat, the wicker having worn though in places, but there was really nowhere else for him to go. The biggest surprise, and the person who got the loudest roar of approval at the end, was a Paul Robson lookalike, barrel chested and tall, who was surely a bass singer too but stood up to deliver a gorgeous counter-tenor voice. There were many glorious solos, instrumental as well as vocal, and JEG made sure that every one of them was individually rewarded. But above all was the music, two and a half hours of magic that you never wanted to end. It's a perennial favourite, and maybe it's even a bit of a cliche now on the concert stage, but you never get tired of hearing it.

Another late night for Hugo who I collected from Ruth's at nearly 11. He had evidently had his legs crossed all evening and didn't ask to go out. I trotted him down her road before we drove home, and he made up for it. He's not one to create a fuss or demand anything, bless his little white back paws. He just endures silently. What a treasure.