Back in Montreal after a trip to the airport. I'm not sure if it was the European weather chaos or simple Christmas overselling, but I've been bumped from my flight. If Lufthansa is true to their word, I'm supposed to fly tomorrow, with a little Christmas bonus for my trouble.
The past few days have been mostly finally visiting and a bit of taking it easy, though I can't ignore my Christmas services - still have to play trombone every day to stay in shape. Last night there was another music reading session in a local church - we were 5: cornetto, violin, and three trombones.
I've been staying chez Douglas Kirk, and my mornings have been spent living out my long-harboured fantasy of waking up, making some coffee, and sitting at a keyboard to muck about. The gentlest way I can think of of getting neurons firing in the morning. In fact, since putting in those Ph.D. applications, I've been seeking out the feeling of neurons blasting inside my head, and playing imitative counterpoint (especially since I'm not really a keyboard player) makes them work hard in a very good way. I should find a way to make a habit of it, but it's got to be a nice instrument. In this case, it's Douglas' lovely little table-top organ, and I've been doing a combination of improvising counterpoint and playing from early Spanish sources while sipping a very fine roast. Bliss.
Having not had any proper visiting time in Ottawa, I returned there on Sunday and wandered about, savoured Jane's fantastic Paella and then went off to see Ottawa's normally luxuriant Christmas lights. There wasn't as much to see as in other years, but the parliament buildings warranted a photo:
I was feeling retrospective about this trip to Canada on my way to the airport, but now that I'm back, the feeling is gone again. Tomorrow, perhaps.