This particular morning, though, grey and damp has returned with nary a glimpse of bright Phoebus. Am late again with Office and the morning's own nonsense but wanted to note that today is the first day I've seen an audience seated in Wigmore Hall in who knows how long-- it is a noontime concert given by clarinetist Michael Collins and pianist Michael McHale. I've joined at the last piece and am not 'staying'-- will go back to Chopin's mazurkas performed by Iddo Bar-Shaî-- but was enthused to see real people there again.
Ante Primam. Today is the feast of the Aragonese Confessor Saint Pascal Baylon (CE, Wiki, Introibo); born on the feast of Pentecost (hence his name, since Pentecost is 'the second Pascha'). And also the fifth day of the Ascension Octave.
Post Tertiam. The second batch of baked treats is in the oven, I believe I've taken out all the 'stuff' (i.e. useless junk) that the landlady can bear to have recycled this week, and it's time to cook my breakfast of eggs and toast. Only butter, salt, and pepper today; ordinarily I sauté mushrooms or red pepper or shallot or who knows what before adding the eggs. Lamb chops and rice-and-vegetables later on; I don't need two luxurious meals in one day. Not, I suppose, that there is much of anything redolent of poverty in eggs sautéed in butter but it is about as simple as one can get without sticking to plain bread.
Céline Hoyeau's La trahison des pèreslooks to be a book that I ought to read. 350+ pages of serious French (i.e. not 'journalese') represents an enormous time suck for me, unfortunately. Of course, perhaps it is written in 'journalese'; the one comment on Amazon's site suggests this. On the Kindle list it goes; next month. Dr Podles's article conferred the additional benefit of reminding me what the name of that obnoxious French 'Bad NCR' site is-- Golias; had been trying to remember it for days for reasons now forgotten. Possibly, I simply don't like not being able to remember.
Post Sextam. I have procrastinated long enough; it's time to hang the map. Am apprehensive that the fitting of the map into the 'rails' is going to be a long and tiresome process; it's possible certainly that I've taken too much to heart the cautions at the manufacturer's site. Ought to have known that such instructional material is written for 11 year olds of delayed intellectual accomplishment, or non-English speakers; no problems at all.
As so often happens when days here begin 'grey and damp', and as I'm sure I have observed aforehand, Phoebus does eventually take a deep breath and shine brightly; a beautiful afternoon. The grass-cutters are doing their best with the lawn and it has become a perfect afternoon for Les Indes Galantes of Rameau; it is this recording from a couple of years ago, on Spotify.
It is also the feast of Saint Peter (19th century), of Saint Julia (19th century), and of Saint Victor (4th century).
V. Et álibi aliórum plurimórum sanctórum Mártyrum et Confessórum, atque sanctárum Vírginum. R. Deo grátias.
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