A Year On - That New Year Concert (minus the Bolero)

Flashbacks of old, familiar things are juxtaposed against the absurdity of sitting and writing at my Macbook in a Star***ks cafe, looking like everyone else who comes in here.  Except this time the woman opposite with the next generation-up Macbook is infact Czech.  This is very unusual.  I'm obviously hobnobbing with the glitterati of Czech society now.  Infact, now that I recall it, I will be this evening.  It's got round to that time again when the new year concert, sponsored by an electricity company, pass on tickets to certain employees and the architect and I have tickets to go to hear some Dvořák (of course) and a few other composer's pieces at the Rudolfinum.  This will require my dressing up and attempting to look posh when, just like last year, I have earned so little lately, that I still don't actually have a clothes budget.  

So this means choosing from three possible dresses, which are all I have for such formal occasions and opting for the nicest, most comfortable, least edgy one, which I've had for about 17 years.  Yes, seventeen.  What can I say?  It's hard to find dresses that suit me and when I do, it's best to cling on to it, as I never know when the incredible coincidence of having enough money to dare to step into a clothes shop and finding a dress that fits and suits me will come together in some miraculous stroke of synchronicity.

The concert itself turned out to be fine - nothing too exciting and thankfully, nothing to get upset about.  It was freezing cold there though, so looking elegant when I needed a cardigan and scarf to remotely keep warm was nigh-on impossible, but nevermind.  The food laid-on afterwards was rather lovely and so were the two glasses of red wine I had.  Followed by a much needed coffee and a mini-crème brulée.

All this does not, however, mean I have escaped thoughts of ex-partner lately.  On the contrary, my brain happily tortures me in my sleep with all sorts of stories conjured up with him as part of the plot.  My sense of homesickness does not seem to entirely be abating either, which seems very unlike me somehow, but there it is.