But mirabile dictu I felt rain blowing in through the window a few minutes ago. On two or three other occasions in the last few weeks, the weather mages have suggested that such a thing might happen but it didn't-- although of course they do not concern themselves with trivialities such as me and my window. They predict only a range of 15 degrees of temperature today, from the present moment's 62 to a high of only 77.
Holy Mass at Saint-E. was celebrated at 0030 today, the usual time on Saturdays in the summer weeks, I gather, or for so long as those good people are streaming daily Mass. Haven't listened to the recording so am not sure which Mass M. Grodziski said-- it's a question whether Saint Joseph Calasanctius's IIIa classis rank admits the votive celebration of Our Lady's Saturday Mass. I think not i.e. it begins almost surely with the Introit Veníte, fílii, audíte me: timorem Dómini docébo vos.
As ten o'clock nears, it remains overcast and breezy and still 62 degrees (although that last is from a different coven of mages than the 62 reported supra). A third cup of tea is called for, I think: have let each of the preceding ones get cold and of course tossed that sorry liquid out the window so I can tell myself that this is really only the second cup, ahem.
The Spanish guitarist and composer Manolo Sanlúcar, né Manuel Muñoz Alcón, has died; requiescat in pace. He was one of the greatest performers of the guitarra flamenca of the last century. I listen occasionally but am certainly no expert in the genre. One of the bands which performs in the Holy Week processions in Seville-- la Banda de los Cornetas y Tambores del Santisimo Cristo de las Tres Caídas-- plays a march adapted from Sanlúcar's Medea, which was performed by the National Ballet at the Teatro de la Zarzuela in Madrid in 1985; there seems to be no recording at Spotify but there is at YouTube, in parts at least.
From an album of Tres Caídas de Triana.
A different recording.