|view from the bedroom window|
Yes, a good night's sleep would have been nice.
Y'know, as in
"Sleep ... knits up the ravelled sleave of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast."
I should know that bit - it comes from Macbeth Act 2 Scene 2 - but I had to look it up. I learned the first line by heart, back in O-level days along with
"what are these so withered and so wild in their attire, that look not like th'inhabitants o'th'earth and yet are on't " - I lik'd that quote f'all the c'ntract'd w'rds."
Anyway sleep. That didn't happen last night - instead it was my turn to sneeze and snuffle and cough and splutter. So my "ravelled sleave of care" stayed unknit, and at around 4 am I came to the conclusion that teaching ten piano lessons was not a 'go' for today's schedule.
So I stayed in bed all day, getting up to do just the four lessons at home. That was enough to convince me to rattle off an email to my manager, and the three schools I should be visiting tomorrow to let them know I won't be in. A stitch in time saves nine, and a day in bed will hopefully also save the rest of the week and next week too.
It's that time of year - hey ho. It's not that I'm actually ill - I'm just not well...
Today's music (I hope you listened to yesterday's - I found an even better youtube with Itzak Perlman and Pinchas Zukerman) is
Forgotten Memories, First Cycle; Sonata Reminiscenza in A minor, op 38, no 1 by Medtner
I've no idea what this will be like.
Now, here's a thing, going back to that first quote, I was hunting for a suitable picture for the blog (preferably creative commons) and I came across this blog post from someone I've never heard of, who has investigated the meaning of
ravelled - an old word which means the same as the modern word 'unravelled', oddly enough
sleave - not a mis-spelling of 'sleeve', but an older word for 'skein'
now you know.