Its on days like this that one really wishes for a poetic command of the english language to describe things such as the sliver glint of snow falling in sharp Russian winter sunlight while a churchbell rings calling people to worship that has undertones, overtones and tiny smaller bells with it that seems to come directly from a Stravinsky Ballet.
I could also have a few choice words about how badly I slept last night and how I appear to have a fabulous selection of Azerbaijani bed bugs bites. Clearly all the wakeful tossing and turning in my little bed appears to have woken them from the depths of my mattress to feed on my wrists and ankles. What joy.
Heading off to meet and greet at the Loree oboe stall at the Conservatoire now, and to let the father of my oboe, Alain De Gourdon, see his child who cracked a month ago and needs comfort! Thence onwards to hear our host, well he feels like our host to me, Philip Nodel, play a trio sonata concert on Baroque Oboe. I hope he doesn’t feel too nervous as almost the whole oboe jury will be there! Then I’m finding a pharmacy and some Russian sleeping pills.