Once again I fail to take a convincing holiday.  On Monday I met Michael Tumelty of the Herald for a morning coffee - the results of our conversation are in today's paper and here.  In spare moments I've been preparing editions for the 29 November concert: it's a satisfying process pulling together the performance material, but I keep having to remind myself that the concerts start in a couple of weeks and I'd better do some practice as well.

Yesterday, Marie and I took Iain McGillivray out to lunch at our favourite haunt, Number Sixteen.  Iain is a tireless source of practical assistance, accommodation for visiting players, wise advice, and good company, so it was a pleasure to treat him for once.  After a couple of glasses of Sardinian wine, I found that on my way home, for the first time ever I could listen to The Shaggs on my walkman and make sense of it.  I've been revisiting my copy of Songs in the Key of Z, which is enough to make you question all received notions of musical competence and value - an essential experience for anyone who occasionally gets a little bit bored of life the way it is.  

When I got home there was an enormous white envelope on the doormat marked 'On Her Majesty's Service'.  Not for once a tax demand, but my mammoth photocopying order from the National Library.  So I now have lots of Kelly symphonies and quartets to wade through.  I foresee another week spent inputting notes into Sibelius.