Garden report: a fat bullfinch keeps returning to eat the blossom off the plum tree, and a blackbird-robin-blue tit hierarchy is developing in the customer base for bird seed.

someone overshot the corner a bit on Clarence Drive last night

The problem with writing a diary like this is that when all the really interesting stuff with the band is going on, I'm far too busy to write about it here. So here I am at the end of the week trying to work out which bits I can muster the energy to recall, digest and relate.

Monday's concert included my first shot at some Purcell songs with Katharine Fuge, which was tremendous fun and bodes well for our next outing at Hatchlands Park in June, when I get to play the John Player 1664 virginal that probably comes from Charles II's court. It was restored by Darryl Martin the year after he was working on my harpsichord.

Then three days of dance band, where we managed to stay six strong despite Alan succumbing to a killer bug. On the first morning I said 'I have no idea what this is going to sound like' and we played circulating listening games for half an hour before attempting any music. With two people new to the group (Alan and Catriona) and Clare only having played with us once before, there was a lot of ground to cover, but after a couple of days' gentle exploration we had a show. It was also a good reminder that there's a lot of really stunning old Scottish music that needs to get out more. James Lauder's My Lord of Marche Paven gets better every time I hear it. Perhaps I had one too many all day breakfasts in our new friendly local café though - back to a sensible diet now.

I'd chickened out from putting any of my tunes in the repertoire, and then on Wednesday morning I came back from getting a cup of tea to hear Catriona playing 'delighted' and Clare joining in, and within five minutes we'd bolted it onto the beginning of the Arses set and it was in. So it's now a 'delighted with arses' set.

sick drummer

When we made it off stage on Thursday night I think I said something like 'well, I've never heard that before, and I think I want to hear it again' which sort of sums up why I make music in the first place. I want to hear something I haven't heard before, otherwise I'd just listen to someone else or put a record on, and I want it to be something worth hearing more than once, unless it's a one-off event. So I think we can agree that the project was broadly successful (how reticent is that?). Actually it was a blast, can't wait to do it again. But without Katherine, things do still feel fragile and uncertain.

Chris, Alison and I decided to stay on in Perth on Thursday night, as there were severe weather warnings in force and it seemed like a good idea to shorten our journey to Fort William the next day. Which would have been fine if four people hadn't come back to the room between mine and Alison's at 3.30am, and the walls hadn't been paper-thin. After about half an hour of mindless racket, I heard someone (it turned out to be Alison) go and ask them to shut up, and another half an hour later they eventually did. But I really could have done with a proper night's sleep: I think we need to find different accommodation in Perth next time.

Sure enough, on Friday the A9 was closed with snow, so we packed our hired Chrysler Voyager (tour bus of choice for three people and a load of instruments) and set off via Loch Earn and Crianlarich.

Chris and Alison contemplate the weather en route

[while I was typing this Catherine Bott emailed me some of Shirley and Dolly Collins's song arrangements as Sibelius files, so I stopped typing for quite a long time ... more on this later]

On the outside, Lochaber High School is one of the ugliest buildings in the world. You're surrounded by mountains and Loch Linnhe, but if you stand in the playground all you can see is what looks like an old East German prison. Hideous. And our dressing room was the medical office (cough). But the audience that awaited us was enthusiastic and warm, and we had a fantastic time. The acoustic of canteen no. 2 suited us pretty well too, the harpsichord sounded amazing, and the beaten-up upright piano we requested was just right. And I finally made sense of Duncan Burnett's Pavin, and made it sound like an exciting piece of music with a backbone. Hooray.

from our dressing-room loo

Then it was back to the soothing log fire at the wonderful Lime Tree for beer and crisps, and a three-way interview for Chris's forthcoming radio show on CBC.

More snow yesterday morning for the drive south made the journey a bit hairy in places (Chris was off on the early train to London to continue his European Grand Tour). But our two short rest stops were very picturesque.

 
Monarch of the Car Park above Bridge of Orchy
(at the same spot where Chris was standing in the photo above)

Falls of Falloch in the snow