Anticipation

Got hold of a ticket today for the SSO concert in early November featuring the wonderful Stephen Hough tinkling the ivories for his own Piano Concerto - The World of Yesterday. It seems like only yesterday I witnessed a masterclass by the great man with Jonah (best accompanist for a musical I've ever worked with by several million miles) as one of his pupils. But it turns out that was back in 2017.

And this week, Thursday evening, we're off to listen to Pierre-Laurent Aimard (this fanboy's favourite living concert pianist - sorry Sir Stephen, but it was a close thing) doing the business with Bartok's 2nd Piano Concerto. I'd never heard this before the weekend, but I've now listened to it twice and am wondering why I haven't listened to even more Bartok - of whom, to put the record straight, I've listened to plenty. But clearly not enough.

Can't wait. But I have to.

Empty Days

At a time when the days feel distinctly packed, and will become even more so for the week ahead, it seems appropriate to comment on my acquisition of a week to a view diary for 2026 a few days ago. The acquisition of such has become an annual ritual of sorts around this time and is always a bit of relief since I doubt I could function in the workplace without one. It's not been too difficult to get hold of the necessary for the last three years since a local publisher now provides the appropriate pages. The only drawback is the obvious lack of quality for the binding. My 2025 edition started to fall apart in late March and is now held together by sticky tape. And still just under a quarter of the year to go!

I've been filling in the bits and pieces I know lie ahead for 2026 over the last couple of days and, as is always the case, find the blankness of the pages sort of beguiling. In past years I've always felt a degree of intimidation rubbing up against the predictable anticipation. But this morning the feeling was different. I felt a sort of easy pleasure at the thought of just how interesting everything was going to be and couldn't help but reflect on my luck, if it holds, to be around for it all.

Better full to overflowing than empty. I honestly did not understand this before and am glad I now do.

Also, hoping this diary doesn't fall apart before February is over.

Keeping On Track

Noi and I enjoyed an aimless late morning at Jurong Lake Gardens, just wandering. The place is so well-designed by the Parks people - I think they call themselves the National Parks Board, NParks for short (definitely my favourite branch of government) - that you can't go wrong wherever you are. Always something good and green (and yellow and purple and red and orange and all sorts of shades and shapes, not to say sizes) to look at.

Quite a few areas have been given over to displays related to the Lantern Festival. Cheerfully silly stuff. I'm sure it all looks suitably colourful, if not a little magical, in the evening. But we enjoyed the simpler magic of everyday trees & flowers by sunlight.

Noi pointed out that some folks, I'm thinking wealthy developers and so was she, would be very keen to bung a condominium or two onto the grounds we were traversing. Nice to think that the concept of protecting the commons still has leeway in the world's saner cities. Hope it lasts.

Spinning Plates Again

Spent the day lurching from task to minor crisis to task, etc... But had a welcome break for Prayers followed by a cuppa with The Missus. Thought I'd kept all in spin until twenty minutes ago when I suddenly realised I had completely forgotten the need to reply to a pretty important email and did so. Just a bit too late. Well, a lot too late in truth.

As recently as, say, five years back I think the plate crashing to the stage would have sort of spoiled the performance. Nowadays it just seems to add to the entertainment value. A spot of spontaneous comic relief.

Just A Thought

Words of a sort of wisdom from a Far Place: If it's worth doing well, it's worth doing slowly.

(Not sure if that's original to me, but that's true of all my thoughts. Also, can't help but wonder if I articulated this before and simply forgot.)

(Great excuse for missing a deadline. Sounds vaguely plausible and vapid all at the same time.)

Thoreau's Indian

Emerged tired but happy from The Maine Woods at 7.45 pm. Thoreau was a great companion to have on the way, but a bit heavy-going in places, providing a bit too much detail. Mind you, of the three different expeditions he made through the wilderness, it was the third and final, The Allagash and East Branch, I found the most readably fascinating, but not on account of the richly vivid descriptions of the forests, lakes & rivers therein.

What really held me was Thoreau's descriptions of and relationship with his native American guide, his Indian. (Nothing too woke about Henry David, at least on the surface, that is.) The guide's name is given in full one time only, in the penultimate sentence of the account: This was the last that I saw of Joe Polis. Before that the Indian is very occasionally Polis, but usually the Indian. So what is Thoreau up to at the end? Is he subtly referencing the full humanity of his companion in giving his name and ending the narrative at the point they separate forever? Or does he remain the oddly eccentric sort of servant to the superior, civilised white guys. The Other.

It's a puzzle. But what is clear is that, consciously or unconsciously, the writer is fascinated by the man. He, his presence, dominates the account such that it becomes a narrative in a deeper sense than just a travel guide. But as to what Thoreau really thinks of Joe Polis, I don't know. And I suspect he doesn't or didn't and needed to write it out of himself. 

Glad I got to read it.

Eyes Wide Open

Started watching the recently made film of Macbeth featuring Denzel Washington as the homicidal thane a couple of weeks back with some reluctance. The reluctance had nothing to do with Mr Washington, by the way. He was the reason I felt I should watch the movie. Rather, I felt maxed out on the great drama, having taught it more than one time too many and seen two too many productions. It's the only play by WS I thought of in that way, but the feeling was very real.

And now it's gone completely, melted as breath into the wind.

As my viewing began I could watch a few minutes at a time, sceptically, finding reasons to question every directorial decision. By the mid-point the questions stopped. By the end - the Act 5 stuff - I realised I was watching a brilliant movie, chock-full of great performances, and a towering Macbeth and Mrs. Started watching again from the beginning as soon as the end credits played, relishing every moment. 

Sometimes it pays to keep both mind and eyes open.

Looking Up

Felt pretty perky this evening, the day having gone satisfyingly smoothly. Then, as I was wandering outside to accomplish one final task, I happened to look up to catch a full moon looming overhead. And things got even better.

On The Peak

Thought I might just record a strong session at the gym this evening, but it wasn't to be. It wasn't a disaster in that I managed a full sixty minutes on the elliptical trainer and got through all of my routines with the weights. But I didn't enjoy any of it and never felt free of the need to concentrate just to keep going. No sense of of ease at all.

And it now strikes me that I've probably peaked in terms of improving my numbers on the trainer. I'm not intending to try and extend the length of sessions simply because what I do is enough, and it's more than a bit boring. The future lies in maintaining the number of sessions I manage in each week, and trying not to slow down. 

But I do wonder if I can genuinely improve in terms of strength from working on the weights. Maybe that's something to push for?

In Celebration

Spent a memorable few hours this afternoon at 'Celebration of a Life', a gathering designed to recall the life of our friend Boon. It did so richly. Felt much sadness; but considerably more joy & gratitude. The sign of a deeply generous life well-lived.