Welcome
to the space where I shall be
keeping an occasional track of
what excites, amuses, inspires
and moves me.
Mstislav Rostropovitch, the extraordinary
Russian cellist and humanitarian,
who died recently, kissed me once.
I can say that because he kissed
everybody who came into his orbit.
You got a big bear hug and a smacking
kiss on the cheek and, briefly,
were enveloped in a warm gust
of human energy, electricity and,
something very rare, a blast of
history. When Rostropovitch kissed
me I went home feeling like an
insignificant but glowing member
of a great lineage of embraces
Rostropovitch and Shostakovitch
and Britten and Prokoviev. Every
great musician of the 20th century
and half of its great world figures
like Yeltsin or Solzhenitsin had
been wrapped up in that great
embrace. I qualified for it by
singing, as a member of the London
Symphony Chorus, in concerts he
conducted, by interviewing him
and by being back stage after
an extraordinary Shostakovitch
concert he had conducted. High
with excitement, he called enthusiastically
for more vodka and launched into
reminiscence in his impenetrable
Russian accent, while his wife,
the great Russian soprano, Galina
Vishnevskaya, waited patiently
in the corner. So when the news
of his death came on the radio
I was surprised to feel personally
sad, even diminished. We are very
fortunate to meet even one truly
exceptional human being in a lifetime
and he was one I was lucky to
be touched by, in every way.
When I¹m not sitting at my
desk I need to get out and see
what¹s going on otherwise
what is there to write about?
I get fresh ideas riding buses,
walking the streets, on country
walks, in exhibitions, concert
halls, theatres, shops and just
listening to people talk. And
sometimes I need to stop and clear
my mind. The right music works
to rebalance the mind, so does
the right art or a wonderful view.
I¹m always looking out for
what works to keep spirits singing
and the mind fresh, to banish
blues or calm anxious thoughts.
When I find what works for me
I¹ll pass it on to you.
I know I¹m happy when I find
myself singing. I was on a crowded
train this weekend when the little
girl next to me started singing
out loud, unselfconsciously and
happily. Her big brother told
her to shut up. Then her mum told
her to stop. So she stopped. But
it was the sound of happiness
and it was making me happy too.
I would a million times rather
see people singing out loud to
themselves than be in their silent
iPod worlds.
Another way to be happy is to
have something named after you.
Friends rang up to tell me they
had a new, very elegant chicken
in their Yorkshire garden. They¹ve
called her Lesley, which cheers
me up a lot. While I¹m scratching
away at my computer in London
I know I have a namesake scratching
for worms in the Yorkshire Dales.
I hope we both lay golden eggs.
What makes you happy? Share
it by letting me know and I'll
pass it on.
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