Sunny Day Fizz.

I was right; the fizz came back.

‘Tis sunny and a briskish breeze

Is whispering in the old oak trees

While butterflies and bumble bees

Are tripping lightly as you please.

There really is something most pleasant about painting an open window frame on a warm, sunny day with some favourite Vaughan Williams or Delius playing at concert volume. There have been those who’ve scoffed, you know – told me I don’t know how to live. Well, actually...

And I was wondering again today, while VW’s 5^th Symphony was playing (probably my favourite of the nine.) How do they do it? Composers? What kind of mind conceives something like that, and then puts it all together so the rest of us can feel it? Because that’s what music is to me, or should be: something you don’t so much listen to, as feel. And I suspect it doesn’t come so much from the mind, but from somewhere rather deeper.