Festival spirit

Perhaps unwisely, the museum at Gloucester prominently displays a large aerial photograph of the city, revealing in one what the shocked pedestrian discovers slowly on foot: the huge proportion of the centre flattened for ghastly car parks, more devastating in their seeming permanence than the recent flooding, of which little trace remained on my four-day visit, so rapid and efficient the cleaning-up. By my third day, domestic tap water was declared safe to drink, restaurants and pubs were operating normally, and the millions of plastic bottles had served their purpose.

Most efficient of all was the rescue of this year’s Three Choirs Festival, every event in place (with some changed venues) according to plan. This convivial and gregarious affair wore its customary hospitable smile; and since it centres upon Cathedral and Close, one of England’s loveliest, the eye was unaffronted even as the ear was delighted. Present as composer-in-residence, I entered into the spirit with eager gratitude.