Monasterio Nuestra Senora De Los Angeles, Sant Cugat, Spain.
In the night: at a gala performance with the Minx, in a large operatic auditorium of the 19th. kind. There was a charge of one pound to be allowed to take photos of the event; which I handed over.
Rising at 06.20.
Pre-packing.
Morning Sitting at 07.15.
Breakfast at 08.00.
Final packing.
Airport call at 09.45, brought forward 15 minutes because of heavy traffic reported at the airport.
09.36 Closing down the computer.
11.03 Terminal One, Barcelona Airport.
Dropping Hernan off at T2. Our Director is flying to Majorca, to check on a new facility. His meetings this week with the two Mother Superiors, old and new, were mainly positive, but the rent remains much higher than a year ago. The increase has been bureacracised within the Bishop’s Office, so we can’t go back to the original arrangement. But in future we are down from the prohibitive rent that this course is paying. Nevertheless, there are other facilities available within the Church, and which look favourably upon our work at a lower rent. Not sure whether this implies they value our work more, or less. But Hernan is off to visit other opportunities anyway.
Javier dropped Alessandro and myself at T1 with enough time to spare. A good thing because Al believed his flight was c. 13.15 and it’s 11.145. We bad farewell without a coffee together.
At security: my can of dulce de leche, a gift from Leonor in Rosario and medicine for an old and feeble former gigster, was flagged as suspicious. It was examined, fortunately without being opened and tasted. The next potential threat: I carry three tuning forks (actually, four) but three are in a dedicated pouch I put out for individual inspection. London security are nowadays a little sniffy – We know what tuning forks are! – but used to be suspicious. Here today, my security person first consulted with a colleague, then with a superior, before they called over a dedicated security person – one of the hard guys with a gun. I struck a C and held it to his ear. He recoiled. Perhaps he was used to the Old Standard Tuning and would have felt safe with an E? For tuning a guitar! He seemed to understand, but more likely was relieved that this strange little old man with a ringing bit of metal might be on his way.
Now computing with a glass of modest cava. Actually, exceptionally modest. But Fripp is heedless of this: he is a happy boy. This was a good course.
11.15 For some reason the NPU in a nearby open-fronted shop has switched to loud. The three German ladies on the adjoining table are not disturbed: they are themselves set to endless wittering. Noisebusters and Bach have come to my rescue.
11.54 The Crafty Circler, from GC II in April 1986 and now this course in San Cugat, has just come up to say hello. J is off to Madrid en route to NYC.
20.05 Bredonborough.
A packed and uncomfortable flight…
Robert Fripp (1946) is een Britse gitarist. Hij houdt een online dagboek met foto's bij.
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