On the Saturday night of Glastonbury festival I wasn’t off my face in a field listening to some banging techno, but at the Museum of Garden History watching the noted harpsichordist William Christie and two marvellous sopranos perform songs by Purcell.
On the Saturday night of Glastonbury festival I wasn’t off my face in a field listening to some banging techno, but at the Museum of Garden History watching the noted harpsichordist William Christie and two marvellous sopranos perform songs by Purcell. My favourite was a beautiful lament for the late Queen Mary, ‘O Dive Custos Auriacae Domus’.
So that’s me ****ed, then. I am now officially and incontrovertibly an old fart.
And I don’t like it, let me tell you, I really don’t. I’m not saying Purcell doesn’t rock. He does, especially when served in small doses and there’s a really delicious picnic you can eat on William Bligh’s tomb afterwards.
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