And then on Sunday, oh joy, oh most divine gift ... I went with another friend to a recital by Anna Goldsworthy ("Piano Lessons") and three of the Conservatorium students she mentors.

This was at Janet Clarke Hall, Melbourne University. I never lived in "hall" at Monash University, but visited my boyfriend and his friends at Mannix College; I shared houses and flats with other students. Janet Clarke Hall was another experience altogether - so proudly intellectual, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in every room, full of ancient editions and tomes. So spaciously accommodating of opinion and thought, so traditional. 

My friend had lived there as a music student in the late '60's. She gets regular missives from the alumni committee, inviting her to attend tasteful events and to donate. I was aware of Not Belonging as I sat among the very middle class, even bourgeois, alumni and their friends. 

However, the music was something else. (And as we drank tea and coffee and indulged in fancy sweetmeats afterwards, I found myself "belonging" after all to this intelligent and cultured group of women and that was "something else".)

I witnessed a pianist who disappeared into the music she played. When I shut my eyes, she wasn't there, but the Appassionata was. Whereas the other two performers were definitely "there", performing. I got a whole new access to what it looks like to Perform.

I could not thank my friend enough for the privilege and enjoyment she afforded me, for FREE, last Sunday afternoon. Even now, I feast on the memory.

What am I doing awake at about 4 a.m., throwing the doona off, so hot? Now it's 5:20 a.m., where did the time go? Have I been awake or asleep, dreaming of tossing and turning, or really doing it? Ah! 5:50 am. That peep peep peep like baby birds in a nest ... I grab the travel clock before it starts demanding attention with BEEP BEEP BEEP. It's still dark. Well, of course, it's really 5:15 a.m. that you're sitting here eating breakfast, pretending it's 6:15 a.m. Is it pretence or just a temporary agreement I honour? 

All this because I met with C. this morning at Maccas and she shared her musical vision with me. I will try to create a word-play to match her concepts. I've never before felt so intimately included in the creation of a modern soundscape. Wonderful.

On the downside, opened the curtains when light arrived only to see one of my lovely silver princesses fallen. There must have been a wild wind last night. Although, inspecting the break, saw ants and fear termites. I need a Man with a Chain Saw, something I've hated the sound of since being a child growing up on the edge of the fabulous Barmah State Forest. There's a peppercorn tree I want removed and those two native whatevers with purple flowers and sticky leaves that have fallen across the path out the front. Everything must go!!! A bargain for someone who wants firewood or mulch. Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind recycling all those woody cast-offs.

Still, the honeyeaters feast on all sorts of mysterious insect life in the fernery outside my home office. So jaunty, so effortlessly acrobatic!

It's the left-hand trunk of the tree leaning to the right that has crashed. It's probably about 8 metres tall.