A beautiful day
I went out for my first long (10 miles) walk with a new club. A very friendly group. We walked through blissful countryside - rolling fields full of crops (broad beans, rape, corn, hops) and sheep with their lambs, church spires on the horizon, pretty houses with perfect gardens tucked along quiet lanes. Pam, the leader, is 78 years old and marches on at a hearty pace. She’s done 55 long walks throughout Britain (walks edging on 100 miles each). She said that the best walk she’s done was along the Wye valley. I must do that with Beloved.
In the evening I went to a piano recital with Ma. The pianist was Chinese. He was a masterful. Gripping to watch his fingers flash across the keyboard, his hands steady, just his fingers flickering fast and precise over the keys. Ma found him technically prefect but lacking in feeling. She said he played like a machine. I saw her point and was sorry. Maybe the piano also was responsible. It was crystal clear, the sound hard. Each note a glittering drop of water ringing out through the Church. Appropriate for the Debussy played. Sounded like a tinkling brook.