I’m finding it exceptionally hard to sum up yesterday in words that actually… contain description. Because ultimately, sahgfkjasghfjashgf doesn’t give a very good account of everything that happened.
It was… absolutely wonderful. Everything about it, beginning with the omgshininess of Symphony Hall and ending with really, really not wanting it to end when the coach got back to Ashby. It would have been special without the support we had, but – a whole coachload of people, supporting us – that’s inexpressibly special. So much love for everyone who came. Being able to look up from the stage and see familiar faces around was really something.
Another thing I’m still squeeing is how well the music went. The rehearsal beforehand had been so-so, with most pieces going fine but Sakari saying at the beginning of the Elgar, “We’re going to run this – whatever happens, I’m not stopping” and then… stopping. Quite a few times. But, even with that, it was – fine. Wonderful. Halfway through Nimrod I found myself about to cry, just because of the sheer power of the music, and I don’t think I could have been the only one. It’s the kind of moment that stays with you forever, and it makes me wonder if going into music might just be the best thing I’d ever do. Can I ever get that feeling if I do Classics?
The other high point of the evening was, naturally, the coach trip home. It was too short, far too short, and I think it’s slightly wrong that I was hoping for some kind of major traffic jam on the motorway to get it to last a few more hours. Having that many people around me who I love doesn’t happen nearly often enough.
Sam’s just come in to ask me whether I think his suit looks alright. He’s not worn a suit for… at least four years. Since he had to drop out of school. Seeing him in things that aren’t casual, tatty clothes is really, really strange. He asked me to show him how to do a tie, but I can’t remember either. Mum’s done it for him now.
- english coursework
See how my expectations are lowering.