Kevin chose well, to watch a game of village cricket on the village green, as our backdrop to the picnic (thank you BlackDog). I felt as if I was in the Archers. Quintessential it was, the fields of golden corn behind a dark green hedge and oaks arising, as human beings played a game with rules encouraging each other in their teams.
Salle Church, that paradigm of perpendicular, and Finzi clarinet concerto on a mid summers eve, what a combination. I was back in my various pasts: my Norfolk past, in which I had once imagined my future self here in this landscape, my London Barns past with Alan Hacker a random meeting in a street recalled here. I found myself crying for that lost time, trying to touch that person then, and feeling those emotions so in tune with the rising falling quality of the music, sounding out on this beautiful church.
I realised how important Kevin was to me, as a friend, a close confident, a wise man, and felt enormous gratitude for being here now, arranged by him. He too was feeling is Norfolk past, his past with his wife and her musical family which often involved going concerts such as this.
In the interval, I lingered by an unusal tomb stone, and an elegant woman arrived, saying ‘That’s my mother’. She explained she was born in India, and came to die in Reepham as she had moved here because of her being here. Zoe Yalland turns out to be an anglo Indian author, artist, and beautiful woman. Nice to find an indian connection randomly this evening. I took a photo of two women picnicing in front of their car, as I was attracted by them and their ease.
Kalikellett 