Out of the mouths . . .

My Salad Days Friend was here yesterday, with her husband, the Good Doctor, and their younger grandson (Grandson Minor), plus elderly dog. It was just the sort of day I need right now. Good food, good talk, music, dogs, much laughter.

We had lunch round the old mahogany dining table, souvenir of the Portobello years, and it struck me how much four-year-old Grandson Minor resembled his mother, who had been almost his age when I first met her and my Salad Days Friend in the mid-1970s. Silky fair hair, shy smile, dimples, thoughtful but with a sunny nature, and very artistic (the last of which is inevitable, given his particular gene pool). A latter-day Christopher Robin; he could have walked straight out of the pages of Winnie the Pooh. I probably don't need to mention that I'm referring to E H Shepard's original illustrations of A A Milne's classic, not the Disney cartoon version. Thought not.  

After we'd given the dogs their afternoon walk and re-enacted the Gunfight at the OK Corral in a neighbour's field, we came home for tea and flapjacks and more talk.

Grandson Minor suddenly looked a bit pensive and then said, rather quietly and a propos of nothing in particular, "I'm famous, you know."

"Are you now?" I replied.

"Yes, I'm named after a famous Greek philosopher." 

I told him that he was the youngest person I had ever heard use the word 'philosopher'. He seemed rather pleased and then his grandma explained that everyone is, well, famous in their own way.

He had a bit of a think about that and then it was back to Tombstone and Wyatt and Doc and the corral, which was now located somewhere behind the sofa, until it was time for him to head home, with his family, across the Black(down) Hills - of Devon and Somerset, that is. Not Dakota, sadly, or of anywhere in the Wild West. But I expect that there were songs en route; there usually are if my Salad Days Friend is driving. 

I needed some songs too, to avoid post-visit tristesse, so switched on BBC2. No apologies for mentioning it again: the Rodgers and Hammerstein concert at this year's BBC Proms was just glorious. The televised version had jettisoned a couple of the best numbers but no matter. It was absolutely impossible to be downhearted while listening to John Wilson's superb orchestra, the Maida Vale Singers and the soloists, especially Julian Ovenden, in this encore, which brought down the house at the Royal Albert Hall and here. 

There's not much of the concert on YouTube at the moment but if and when there is, we'll go back. And that's a promise.

Comments

[Rattling On]

I've been watching the films on BBC2. It takes me back to my childhood when I used to sing Oh What a Beautiful Morning at top whack- always when I was riding my bike. (I was also a massive Deanna Durbin fan...)

[Milo]

I was at that prom and loved it! Great atmosphere and the encore and final applause went on and on and on.

When Sheridan's employer had a box we used to go to masses of concerts at the RAH as we had brilliant seats for peanuts. Was there for the Last Night about 6-7 years ago (I forget which) was also brilliant. These days the box is gone (S is big classical movie buff so still goes a lot anyway and now makes do with the cheap seats!) and I may go to one or two that appeal more to me - like the musicals!

We're also going to a Music of James Bond concert at the RAH later this year.