I’m not a schadenfreude sort of guy, but I had to swallow a smile when I shook hands with Chubby Cheika after last week’s concert. “Never mind mate,” I said, “you’ll do cracker at the Coupe Mondiale.” Don’t think he caught on that I was extracting the michael.
Much better performance all round on Saturday, and especially pleased to see Dan getting back to his best at first violin. He can fair lead a merry dance when he’s on song, and the Smith Brothers got in the swing nicely.
Early in the second movement some gallah called Quade ran across the stage and caused a bit of disruption to A. Smith’s noggin, but that was the last we saw of him, so no complaints.
Told young Richie that he’s got a bit of a future with the french horn if he keeps playing like that.
Now I’ve got some thinking to do about who to take to the Coupe Mondiale next month, and who to leave behind. That’s a fair bit of mental exercise just there, so I’m going to shag off down to Maketu and wander the beach a bit in my flowery daks. Can’t hurt that it’s close to the bakery itself, and I’ll sink a few suds to assist in the exertion.
Yours in contemplation