Tuesday 21^st July

Back in London and to the Glyndebourne Prom. It is The Fairy Queen, a sought-after ticket and recklessly I have offered it to Val. If he doesn’t show, owing to advanced alcoholism, I’ll be furious. But he’s there when I arrive, using the Royal Hall as a resting post. For a flash I think of sending him straight home. I can see at once he is drunk. He lurches upright, bellowing and trilling like a duchess. People stare, not least, I should imagine, at his catastrophic undead appearance. I manage to stop him from stealing a sandwich. I dread the performance. What if he starts shouting?  It’s happened before. And the Orch of the Age of Enlightenment so delicate and tiny in sound? But he is calm and we love The Fairy Queen. It is one of those evenings of unalloyed pleasure that can never be anticipated. The surprise of Val, in his state, enjoying it so much is not the least of it, for me.

I feel I have done Val a good turn. Thank goodness I didn’t make a smug scene about his being drunk and wipe out all chance of happiness, however momentary. But smugness is inescapable, I fear. I may well think of Val is less fortunate, but what about my own addictions and compulsions?