Our fourth Saturday starts with the sound of Molly’s pattering feet on tiles suggesting that after last nights private view and a couple of copas we may have slept too long, Graham takes her to the park and I cut up pungent nectarines for breakfast. Graham manages a short time in the terrace sun before he retreats to the shade side to do his ‘deberes’ (spanish homework!) and research much needed doggy park speak.
Mid April and the sun, like North Yorkshire wind goes through you. Molly rubs her face like she does in front of the fire when its just too hot but she just cant bear to move away. I sit for a time listening to the occasional catalan conversation across valleys of balconies and the sounds from the surrounding piled high family life. This is the background to the show stealing soprano voice singing sky high, her voice reaching to heights that bring tears to your eyes for the sheer beauty and romance of it.