Mr R has left me at home, incharge of taping tonight’s Prom. He’s attending a GP’s meeting this evening, a few towns away.
So here I am , hovering over the stereo system, watching the clock count to 19:30. The pressure cooker’s on the hob, hissing ominously and a few onions wait expectantly to be chopped – not a pleasant experience either for them or me!
I hear the orchestra filling their seats, my mind’s eye picturing them walking onto that stage, bearing their instruments with pride, audience waiting expectantly, the final coughs and clearing of throats done for the time being.
I check, for the third time, that the little arrow is green, and that it does say REC where it should. Gasp! Was the tape in?! Too late now. The first sounds of the strings come through – can’t check now.
Eleven minutes to go.
Then, change tape.
19:43 : Time passes very slowly when you have to focus.
Like a military expedition, I listen. And watch (the clock). And nibble at steamed carrots (I like them – Mr R doesn’t).
There’s no room for mistakes here. Lives will be lost. (Well…)
The prawn curry can wait till the second peice begins. Or even the interval. (No, I’m not pressure cooking the prawns!!!)
And listening intently, I forget to enjoy the music.