That's the name of today's music by Olafur Arnalds, a young Icelandic composer. It is odd. And haunting. And wintery.
It was a cold day today - The final morning of music teaching happened, and went well. The offsprings are here for the weekend, for various social gatherings and car-related activities.
The collection of them was rather less simple than usual - in the course of which we criss-crossed the Autumn countryside. I was very happy to enjoy the views of fields and trees in glorious colour. I was more than ready for 'lunch' when we finally arrived at Nymans' Gardens at 3pm - the last coffe (and loo-stop, come to think of it) had been a long time before.
We all four had large home-made sausage rolls, which had chunks of dried apricot and apple incorporated into the sausagemeat. That is an excellent idea, and one I shall copy.
The offsprings had a quick walk around the gardens in the gathering gloaming, we investigated the shop.
Now we are all back home. They are providing supper, and we are sitting back and letting them get on with it.
I should be practising the hymns for tomorrow. The organist that I share the Sunday with is more than happy to play 'Fight The Good Fight', and top and tail the service with organ voluntaries. (Although our organ only has two manual, thank heavens...) That leaves me with the singy-songy ones which I know have played in the past, but I'm not too certain if they are still in my fingers. Practice would be a good idea.