One at a time.

You know my taste in wet, deservedly-obscure jangly indie bands, but you may not know that my favourite pieces of music of all time are J. S. Bach's Cello Suites, apparently written solely for private practice at the request of a pupil. Each Suite is based on the same tune, using the same forms of (originally dance) rhythms and styles: there's the Prelude, then an Allemande, a Courante, a Sarabande, Minuets, Gigues and Gavottes.

Benjamin, otherwise a very discerning chap and prize-winning author, was firmly resistant to my urging - it took a world-famous author, a professor of music and a PhD student (who fully deserves a scholarship for her part) with a baroque cello to persuade him of the Suites' worth. Giving him makes him a better human being.

My work with him done, I turn to you: listen to this, over and over again until you realise that this is definition of genius. Here's an extract from No. 4, my favourite. It's played by Rostropovich, second only to Yo-Yo Ma's version.



The Allemande from Suite No. 6:



And the ultimate, the sublime Prelude and Sarabande to Suite No. 1, this time played by Yo-Yo Ma and Mischa Maisky

Court Short

What an appalling waste of a day. Rather than swimming, writing and blogging, I dragged myself out by 8 a.m. to get to Brierley Hill, where Dudley County Court is based. It's a converted office block in the midst of a depressing business estate (mostly To Let) - but at least the legal toffs have to travel through the concrete jungle to get there.

Once inside, the victim, her mother, their (Lithuanian) translator and I were left in an airless, featureless room for 6 hours. We got over the language barrier and chatted a bit: our first meeting was rather fraught and social niceties weren't observed. I've been to Lithuania so we talked about Vilnius, and the translator studied in the Philology department at Vilnius University, where I gave a paper, so we discovered mutual acquaintances, but after a while, boredom, the upcoming confrontation, and the artificiality of the situation intruded on our sunny dispositions.

Turns our there was nothing to anticipate. First the defendant's lawyer and his interpreter (don't know which language) went to the cells to point out that he was guilty as sin and should give up now in exchange for a lighter sentence. Then there were apparently several hours of legal argument. Then we were informed that the defendant had sacked his lawyer and the new one would need a few months to acquaint himself with the case.

So my day was wasted, the victim was left without resolution and still clearly terrified of this bloke, a professional translator had been hired for the day, plus a night in a hotel, plus the very expensive legal teams (all paid for by the state) - what a farce. And it's all going to happen again at some point in the future. At least I got to read the paper in peace, get a long way through Anglo-Saxon Attitudes and avoid a deathly staff discussion day, though the architecture and decor were virtually indistinguishable from the university. There's a joke about incarceration and Kafka in there somewhere, but I'll leave it to you.

Still, I saw a little bit more of the West Midlands and can tick it off the list of places to visit. Dudley was closed and Brierley Hill had clearly recently been used for a post-apocalypse film (although Survivors made the postwar city look livelier and cleaner). There's something rather sweet about listening to Bach's Cello Suites while gazing out on post-industrial decay, the grey relieved only by the occasional splash of vomit on the pavement.

How's your day been?

Soothing the savage breast

I was listening to Tosca earlier. Despite its passion, I decided it was the wrong material for marking - wild, bloody and furious as it is in places. Now I'm listening to the Tortelier recording on Bach's Cello Suites and I'm feeling much more generous. Up next - probably Flos Campi (my favourite Vaughan Williams) or some plainchant.

The moral is: if you want better marks, buy me the right kind of music.