When we were planning where to put all my stuff in this house, we decided that we didn’t need so many bedrooms so one could become a chillout zone and music room. It’s upstairs and has it’s own terrace looking out to the west and over the Monchique hills to the north, so gets the setting sun. I set it up yesterday and rediscovered that wiring up the HiFi is one of the key ingredients for turning a house into a home.
Now, I should confess that, like all grumpy old men, I have never been seduced by that loutish upstart MP3 format, preferring to stick with CDs; I remember replacing all my vinyl decades ago and I’m not doing it again. Moan, moan. Over the years, I’ve accumulated far too many, so the difficult decision is: which one should should be chosen to christen a new house/life/chillout zone? I remember Amsterdam where the circumstances were difficult and I was feeling melancholy. Then I chose Bruckner’s seventh for it’s sad grandeur. I think I chose Moneverdi’s Vespers in Germany because the first few minutes sound like all the angels in heaven in full chorus. So, what about here? It had to be something Latino and I have recently developed a liking for Astor Piazzola, so that was it, his take on the four seasons from Buenos Aires, Las Estaciones Portenas. It suited the upbeat mood perfectly, a bit tango, a bit classical, and quite jazzy.
Still a mountain of work to do but I really want to get back to writing again. Blogging is one thing but writing is something else, and I need to remember where I was with my sequel to Flight Into Darkness but I can’t write if there is something else that needs doing. I suppose if I were a real starving-in-an-attic writer, it would take priority over house, food, money, etc. Just shows how superficial I am, preferring Piazzola to the written word!