It's not like me to be topical, but here's a few words about this evening's rehearsal, the first of the new term. The Christmas concert we work towards is in conjunction with a choir, so we never find out for ages what choral pieces we may have to accompany, or what cheesy festive tune we'll be doing for an encore. We do, however, get an idea of the pieces we will play on our own (the choir do unaccompanied pieces, too).
So far, we have Malcolm Arnold's wonderful but fiendishly difficult 'Four Scottish Dances', some of the 'Nutcracker Suite' by Tchaikovsky (probably not the fruit and nutcase bit), the theme from 'The Big Country' and the first movement of Dvorak's Symphony No. 9 (i.e., not the Hovis bit). There may be more, there may be less. Who knows?
In other news, I returned home to hear that Scotland had drawn 1-1 with the mighty FYR Macedonia in their 'must-win' second qualifying game; disaster for Scotland, but hopefully the end of Craig Levein's short, boring and embarassing tenure as boss.
This was the yang to Andy Murray's Grand Slam ying. After what seemed like an eternity (and I don't mean the match), he finally won something; the US Open, although I wasn't able to stay up for the 5-hour roller-coaster ride I imagine it was. He's been British since he won the Gold at the Olympics, and this latest triumph cements his place in the hearts of those 50 million who didn't like him until his tearful speech after defeat to Federer at Wimbledon. He's British until he loses again.
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