I am exceedingly lucky in the way that most things fall out in my life. Many events and enterprises are good, some are disappointments and a very few are indifferent in their affect.
When Porgy and Bess was announced as one of the Met's cinema broadcasts, I was delighted - having missed the performances some 18 months' ago at English National Opera. Like Scott Joplin's Treemonisha, it's a revolutionary, ground-breaking work that simply did not lead anywhere in terms of other works being developed.
And I'm glad to have now witnessed a staged performance having attended a concert performance at the Phil back in the 80s. But the best word I can come up with to describe my appreciation of the event is "worthy". It felt like the whole enterprise was hobbled by an over indulgent sense of reverence when, actually, it's a raucous, sweaty beast of a thing with the impetus and shock value of Tosca.
Ross and I had our final session at Family Therapy for the present - the door remains open should we fee; we want to undertake further sessions in the future. There had been a bit of a gap because of the Festive Season but also to give us both some time to reflect and see if there were any other topics we felt the need to investigate at this moment in time.
Overall, we felt No. There are plenty of things that do need to be teased out but now is much more of a time for us to be using the communication skills we have been working at. I really do want us to be getting out and about more together. I'm trying to get Ross to act more independently as well. He's going to be making his own way to and from the Community Health Centre on his scooter when he has his therapy sessions with Leanne and he and Karen have been talking about him doing some of his art practice at her studio at the Bridewell. It will stop him getting too clingy and give me some free time alone in my own home.
Elsewhere, I went to see the Doctor about three weeks ago and said...
I've been on Venlafaxin for over eight years.
I've been on the highest dose for about three and a half years.
I'm approaching 66.
I know longer know whether the body I inhabit feels the way it does because of my age, the anxiety or because there's something wrong.
We discussed. And we decided as a first step to lower the dose of Venlafaxin from the highest dose to the middle dose. As he put it, the meds can tend to flatten everything out. As I put it, I can feel happiness but not joy.
So, I've been on the lower dose for over a fortnight. And I feel totally manicked out. Poor Ross doesn't know what's hit him. It's like someone's turn my enthusiasm levels up and then pulled the knob off. I am SOOOOO alert.
And the libido has risen from the ashes with consequences. Poor Danny has said that he thoroughly enjoyed it at the time so not to worry but sitting down became tentative for a couple of days.
Hopefully, I'll readjust soon and learn to re-socialise my inner mania.
Stonking night of Viennese symphonic masterpieces at the Phil on Thursday under the stewardship of Andrew Manze. Delightful Haydn with his Symphony No90 in C followed after the interval by glorious Bruckner with his Symphony No4 in E flat Romantic.
Damn fine way to spend a Thursday evening.
Phillip Schofield has announced to the world that he is gay. An official statement has been released by him saying that, with the support of his family, he is "coming to terms with the fact that I am gay".
With the greatest respect to Phillip Schofield (because these matters are personal and have to be dealt with in the way that best suits the individual), I think that many of us were aware of this possibility during his tenure in the CBBC Broom Cupboard in the mid-1980s.
Two comments from social media
Just watched Rocket Man and was very impressed. When announced, I thought Taron Egerton was not the right choice for the lead role but he's actually very good. And I fell in lust with Richard Madden and Jamie Bell all over again. And who would have thought that Dexter Fletcher would go on to direct such a piece after I fell in lust with him in 1986 when he was in Derek Jarman's Caravaggio.
It's quite clearly not the truth, the whole truth, etc but it does tell a very persuasive story in an entertaining fashion. The Twittersphere was once ablaze with comparisons between Rocket Man and Bohemian Rhapsody with much for and against. I am for them both but in different ways.
Here's a different sort of story.
A teacher walks into a classroom and begins writing on the wipeboard...
1 x 9 = 7
2 x 9 = 18
3 x 9 = 27
4 x 9 = 36
5 x 9 = 45
6 x 9 = 54
7 x 9 = 63
They stop and turn to the class: the students are agog.
The first one's wrong.
You made a mistake.
What sort of teacher are you anyway?
The teacher says...
I deliberately wrote the first statement out wrong.
The other six are correct. Nobody mentioned that.
Everyone piled in to tell me what I had done wrong.
Often, that is what life feels like.
All of your successes are overlooked whilst your slightest mistake is held up for all to see.
Something there to ponder for a while.