I'm sitting outside, with a good book and a glass of wine, listening to the long-absent sounds of a band rehearsal coming out of the oast for the first time in so so long. It's the folk/barn dance band Neal drums with - they have gigs next week for Broadstairs Folk Week and they are trying to remember songs. There are a lot of starts and stops as they piece it back together - a lot of laughter - "who wrote this song anyways?" someone shouts. And then, almost out of the blue, they are all singing in harmony and Gemma's violin is dancing over the top and it is so beautiful and joyful and pure that it almost hurts. Time stops, just for a moment. "Argh! in D!" somebody yells, someone else swears and the spell is broken. Everyone laughs again and I smile, out here in the garden.
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