The Piano

The temperature has plunged, hinting at snow in a week or two. The cost of living increases yet again, especially in supermarkets. And the malaise of November. Those early gloomy evenings, along with news of world events.

Although I haven’t posted much recently, I’ve kept busy practising the piano. Brahms. Chopin. Beethoven. Each evening, I like to devote an hour to practising.

Below I attach three photos of a grand piano I used recently. The piano itself is not in the best of conditions. Using basic photo editing tools, though, I attempt to add atmosphere to otherwise mundane images

Till next time!

Another True Beauty – Brahms Rhapsody in E-flat, op 119

Autumn, and summer has gone. The change in weather is striking. Today, we’ve had rain and grey skies. The local news reports near-flooding on the underground at London Victoria. Snow, apparently, will come soon.

I always dread the darker days and early evenings, the lack of sunlight, the cold and wet. Still, I remain busy with piano practise and language studies.

I’ve been studying this Rhapsody by Brahms for the last few weeks. There are a number of videos of the piece on YouTube. I’ve chosen the recording by Richard Goode as I feel some of the other performances available, whilst outstanding in many respect, lag behind in terms of speed. My opinion anyway.

Happy listening.

Autumn, And Exhausted

The title says it all, I trust.

The recent change in weather has left me feeling tired and chesty, so I haven’t paid much attention to online sharing. Hopefully, I will post again soon.

Till then.

Urban, Yet Rural

Autumn, nearly winter. Chilly mornings and early evenings with a hint of ice in the air.

Uncertain times persist. Life has returned to normal, and yet it hasn’t. The pandemic could return with a vengeance, catching many of us unaware.

I struggle with malaise to an extent. Once the Covid restrictions ended, a number of friends chose to leave London. I am still out of work, more than eighteen months on, and I have got used to spending substantial amounts of time indoors, although I stay busy with language studies and practising the piano. Plus, I arrange to see friends for coffee or via Video.

And take local walks, of course. London can be busy, dirty and noisy. Yet, the outskirts contain remains of country, such as the Ancient Forest of Middlesex.

Below I capture a hint of rural Muswell Hill, taken on a morning walk:

“Forest of Middlesex”

Till next time, and stay safe!

Autumn – Again!

Another year has flown by. Autumn has come, although summer weather lingers. Life has returned to normal, although uncertainty persists, especially in regards to COVID.

Normal, yet not normal. I study languages from home and practise the piano.

Yesterday, I had a haircut. I needed to do something to cheer me up, as the prospect of six months of autumn and winter depresses me. Early evenings and grey skies. The stresses of Christmas and concerns over winter viruses.

I attach my latest selfie portrait below.

Till next time! And stay safe.

Autumn Recollections

Summer has ended. Autumn has come.

The weather has changed. I don’t like the rain or grey skies. I’d prefer the heatwave of summer

Below I enclose a section from my debut novel – Secrets by Lawrence Estrey – in which the protagonist makes a journey back to his hometown at the start of autumn, his favourite season until an event in his childhood tore the close knit Northern community apart. Not surprisingly, he finds some of the journey overwhelming.

(Genre: psychological thriller; location: Lancashire: UK, published 2011)

---

I set off across the moors for the journey to my hometown.

Fifty minutes later, the familiar sights greet me like an old loyal friend. The airfield several miles from the estate. Stately Holbron Hall in the distance, standing on a hill. Narrow main roads with damp looking brown terraced houses. The amateur football club with the floodlights. Disused mills, factories. The cemetery behind a pair of gates. I hurry past.

Home, although I don’t recognise all the landmarks or the streets. Some are new, others I must have forgotten about. I can almost feel the reassuring touch of the wind on my face, the autumn glow in the air, the innocence and excitement of childhood.

Another Month, The Seasons

Time flies, as they say.

September has arrived. Autumn approaching. A chill in the air. I woke to a sore throat this morning and a general feeling of fatigue.

I don’t particularly like autumn, as it points towards colder days and longer evenings – and, of course, snow and ice. I prefer spring. We’ll have to wait another six months for that.

Anyway, I’ll close now.

Back soon.

September, Melancholy

September, melancholy.

Fading Sunlight, darker evenings.

Approaching autumn, shorter days.

Cooler weather, breezes from the east.

A blast of winter, another Christmas.

A Sticky Summer, And A Lull

Hi, the good weather has gone for the most part, replaced by Autumn skies and humidity.  After such a warm June, August seems almost depressing, a reminder that Autumn will come soon, and then Winter, followed by another year. 

In terms of writing, I’ve reached a lull and am uncertain of how to proceed. I miss working on plot and character and churning out page after page of work, but I’m reluctant to self-publish again. I think I need to put the writing to a side for twelve months, then reconsider the options.

Meanwhile, I spend more time at the piano these days and I now have more than thirty videos of my playing on YouTube. I hope to do some more recording at some point in the near future. 

Till next time.

The Storm

Back to gloomy autumn weather and a wait to hear news on the latest novel, a psychological thriller.

Talking of which…after high temperatures and a late summer, the weather suddenly changed. I woke up at around 3am on Thursday, aware of the steady thud of rain outside. Lightning flickered, causing the clock radio to crackle. Thunder roared close by.

Generally, I like storms, but I lay there unsettled, thinking of another storm that took place when I was a child, maybe five or six years old. When that storm occurred, I fled from the bedroom, convinced that the house was haunted and that the ghosts were pursuing me. Obviously, I have no idea whether the house was really haunted. However, from time to time, I’ve found certain places or atmospheres disquieting right from the start, and still do occasionally. So I suppose I must believe in the possibility of hauntings and ghosts, although the whole thing scares me.

Anyway, I think the above would do well in a psychological thriller.