This Anzac Day was going to pass me by without comment.
I’ve written before about my inner battle with this most Australian commemoration of war and I’ve made peace with myself on that front. The trouble is on another more personal front.
April 25 is also the anniversary of my father’s death.
In an excerpt from his book Rough Ideas: Reflections on Music and More in the current issue of Limelight magazine, Stephen Hough wrote of his reaction on seeing an elderly man being wheeled into the concert hall where Hough was about to perform.
‘My heart instantly lifted,’ he wrote. ‘It struck me as wonderful that he was here to hear Beethoven and I was the one who this evening was to bring that music to life.’
Over summer I went to church, along with a hundred or so others of my flock.
We went to worship at the shrine of Franz Schubert, a nineteenth century German composer with a gift for putting music to already profound texts and rendering them close to sacred.