Magnolia Time
12 April

For most of the year, magnolia trees are completely uninspiring. Then, for a very short period, they blossom into something magnificent.

One of our neighbours has a tree that must be many decades old. It is large and opulent. Just now, it is covered in those succulent, creamy, fleshy flowers. And shortly, they will be gone. It's a brief moment; a fortnight if you are lucky; a couple of days if the frosts return or the wind is keen and from the right direction.

Elsewhere the green mist is appearing on many of the trees as the general greening continues apace. Our twisted willow and witchhazel have both survived the winter and are pushing out leaves. The plum tree which Ross gave me for Christmas is showing its first buds and first few blossoms. I don't suppose we'll get many, if any, plums this year but we'll see.

I had my last Yoga class for a fortnight on Tuesday and followed this with reiki with Janet on Wednesday. Janet thinks that I am making good progress. She has pressed me to give myself the gift of time. Previously, I've always taken this to mean that I should postpone any decisions. Now I see it as a more positive instruction to grant myself periods of repose in every day - to take time out for me. I think that this is linked to what Margaret used to say to me about protecting myself. Reading now, the advice that I was given then, I can see much more clearly what Margaret was talking about.

Work has been OK too this week. I saw Dr Dye on Wednesday and was told to keep taking the tablets, not to worry when the down days come (because they will anyway) and to come back in two months' time. So, I was able to report mental as well as physical progress when I had my review session at work on Thursday.

That was also the first day that I was on my own in the house. Ross has gone off to spend Easter with his parents. My parents are now off in Epsom. So, I'm able to give myself the gift of time - daunting though this sometimes feels. I've had offers of sustenance from both Colin and Colin but, on reflection, I'm going to try and make it good on my own. Apart from anything else, who's going to look after Nutkin the bold. And, yes I do realise that this is a complete rationalisation.

So, I've been spending the Easter weekend giving myself little presents of time.

• I taken time out to do some yoga
• I've slept late if I've wanted
• I've listened to all of Beethoven's symphonies performed by The London Classical Players under Roger Norrington (all passion, fury, attack, driving percussive effects, sour woodwind, rasping brass and astringent strings - it must have sounded completely alien to the sound world of the early 19th Century)
• I've listened to Dickens's Our Mutual Friend (less compelling than Barnaby Rudge but intermittently engaging)
• I've finished off listening to the final episode of twelve of Trollope's The Pallisers on Radio 4 (enjoyable but not as enjoyable as The Barchester Chronicles)
• and I've been reading Cervantes's Don Quixote (fascinating, enthralling and mostly enjoyable even though it really is a one joke book - he's off his rocker and sees everything in completely different light to everyone else)

I also went off to Buxton on Friday night to see Opera della Luna perform Offenbach's La Belle Hélène. I discovered that it is nearly thirty years since I last saw a performance of this at the London Coliseum. With a cast of seven, a minimally reduced text and a severely reduced orchestra, this wasn't, in one sense, the real thing. But it was a most enjoyable night out, perfectly capturing the spirit of the piece. And, as ever on these occasions, the eye and the ear quickly re-adjusted their expectations.

The cast worked like Trojans - if that isn't a pun in the circumstances. Simon Butteriss I'd seen before in The Gondoliers and he remained a good patter singer. Iain Davey was a sexy Paris with quite a good high tenor. Victoria Byron smouldered splendidly as Helen. If the voices weren't of the highest order, then it didn't matter because of the commitment of the overall delivery. Three stars and I'll certainly look out for the company's next tour.

Friday took me back to the Liverpool Playhouse for Noël Coward's The Astonished Heart and Still Life - two one act plays which were part of a suite of nine one-acters which Coward wrote for him and Gertrude Lawrence to perform under the title of Tonight at 8:30.

The two plays chosen both chart the progress of illicit affairs; the first ends with the suicide of the lead male; the second ends with the abandoned suicide of the female lead. In neither play does the hidden love bring any happiness. It's a theme which must have run deeply through Coward's own life as a gay man before the changes in the law which made his sexuality legally permissable. In fact, during both plays, I sat there thinking that the whole set up would have made much better psychological sense if the affairs had been between two men.

As with The Entertainer back in January, the production and acting were good. This time the plays themselves were more than watchable. Three stars this time.

Sunday and Monday, I've just given up to being on my own and I've enjoyed it. I've bathed, I've washed clothes, I've ironed, I've done some tidying around the house, I've done a bit of food shopping, I've cooked good food, I've sat out in the back garden during the one bright and sunny spell on Sunday afternoon, I've read the May editions of BBC Music Magazine and Gramophone, I've typed up this Journal, I've just generally chilled out.

The shopping reminded me just what a good job Ross does of keeping the household accounts in order. For ease, I did most of the food shopping in Sainsbury's and found out just how expensive it is. Normally, we just do a bulk shop over the Internet once a month with Tesco's and then shop for fresh produce at the local shops on a regular basis. Sainsbury's was much more expensive than any of the local shops. But then they weren't open at odd hours on the Bank Holidays. And I'm taking time out to treat myself so I don't begrudge the organic mushrooms or the organic yoghurts or the lillies or the trout or the cheesy pasta meatballs al forno.

Very late in the day, I caught up with the Classic FM Hall of Fame. In previous years, this has tended to be a cornerstone of my Easter weekend. This year, however, I seem to have had so much to do by myself that it mostly passed me by. Vaughan Williams, Bruch, Mozart and Rachmaninov once again held the top four places. It's stopped being exciting.

I'm trying to fix up for me to go down to London on May 10 to see Robert dance with his fellow postgraduates in the Place's postgraduate company called The Edge. Though I've not yet seen it, he's on the poster for the tour they are undertaking. However, he can be seen plastered all over the company's Website.

If it all works out, that is going to be a busy period for me with lots of travel. I'm due to be driving up to the Lake District to Swarthmoor Hall for a weekend devoted to Quaker study, then taking a train down to London to see Robert and then off to Cornwall by car for ten days of holiday with Ross where, hopefully, we shall get to see the Tate St Ives, the Eden Project and the Lost Gardens of Heligan.