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Novelist's diary Pt VII
Peace at last.
I am on a writing retreat in Flintshire, Wales (see picture). It’s the Gladstone Library. It has a large theological library. I am getting a lot of writing done. After lunch I go and walk among the lambs on the hills. They are very sweet. I call them all ‘lamp chop’ because they all look like the old glove puppet. As I stroll I listen to Michel Thomas’s German course. Es ist sehr gut.
While writing – I’ve been here since Thursday – I’ve been listening (via headphones) to Nickolas Harnoncourt’s Beethoven cycle. It seems to me a fairly safe interpretation. In the evening, after the communal dinner, I watch an episode of ‘The Wire’. Most other people here are clergy of some kind, I think. They are all very gentle. I feel like a monster among them. I don’t think any of them are going to join me in the pub to watch the Champion’s League Final.
Last Wednesday ...
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Nietszche (yes, Nietszche again) said a world without music was a world in error
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