There's no remedy

Day two of nine, and I’m flagging already. By the time Thursday May 10^th is upon us, I will have been out 10 times in 11 nights. I think this is unprecedented, even for me. To be honest, if I had the money, I’d be out every night, but I think it would be cheaper, in the long run, if I just moved to somewhere that I could close the door behind me when I come home from work and just relax. However, I’m stuck here for now or for as long as I can bear it.

On Sunday night, I travelled out to Paisley for a concert by the St. James Orchestra. They opened with Beethoven’s overture ‘Egmont’, which we rehearsed for a while a few years ago. I love the ending; it’s loud and a bit crazy, and I was able to play some notes I’d not previously managed. As a result, it has a special place in my heart, but it wasn’t until Sunday that I realised that, apart from the Horns, there’s no brass it. To close the first half, guest soloist Philip Higham played Elgar’s Cello Concerto. Good memories here, too, as we played the Fourth Movement in our Summer Concert last year, with BBC SSO Principal Cellist Martin Storey doing the honours. The second half was taken up by Borodin’s 2^nd Symphony, a work I had never heard before. So, an enjoyable concert, and well worth the money.

We’re motoring along nicely towards our summer concert on the 9^th of June. ‘Colas Breugnon’ by Kabalevsky probably wouldn’t be half as bad if it wasn’t so fast, but it’s Russian, so I wouldn’t expect an easy time. The beginning of the Fourth Movement of Brahms’ Symphony No.1 is taken at a snail’s pace, which, frankly, makes it just as difficult. The transposed part for Holst’s ‘A Somerset Rhapsody’ is in at least three hellish keys. I could always ask for the ‘A’ part, but I really should be learning the scales for these keys, as that might just make me a better player. Finally, another crack at bits of ‘Pictures at an Exhibition’, or whatever that preposition should be.

Tonight, it was the Chandler Studio Theatre in the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland (the educational institution formerly known as the RSAMD), and a production of ‘Measure for Measure’. I wished I’d read it before I saw it, as I didn’t understand a great deal of it. I may come back and edit this once I’ve had some sleep (and it will all make sense), but I fear another night of the Bard will render me senseless.

Whilst pacing the corridors looking at the student noticeboards, I chanced upon a leaflet produced by the mental health charity ‘Mind’ entitled ‘Understanding Depression', which listed a whole host of symptoms, five or more of which mean that it’s likely one is suffering from the condition:

• Being restless and agitated
• Waking up early, having difficulty sleeping or sleeping more
• Feeling tired and lacking energy; doing less and less
• Not eating properly and losing or putting on weight
• Crying a lot
• Difficulty remembering things
• Feeling low-spirited for much of the time, every day
• Being unusually irritable or impatient
• Getting no pleasure out of life or what you usually enjoy
• Losing interest in your sex life (I'd have to have one, first)
• Finding it hard to concentrate or make decisions
• Blaming yourself and feeling unnecessarily guilty about things
• Lacking self-confidence and self-esteem
• Being preoccupied with negative thoughts
• Feeling numb, empty and despairing
• Feeling helpless
• Distancing yourself from others
• Taking a bleak, pessimistic view of the future
• Experiencing a sense of unreality
• Thinking about suicide

Five or more? That’s 20 out of about 25, so I’m fucked. Choices? I can pull myself together. I can do various activities. I can be drugged out of my skull for the rest of my life. I can do none of these things. I know what causes it. There are three things: two are long-term but not permanent (though there is no sense of the end); the third is permanent. I know what’s wrong and there’s no remedy.