Yesterday entailed a great deal of box-heaving as last season’s choir repertoire went back to storage. Next season’s music includes only three works we already own — “Messiah” (as usual), Vivaldi’s “Gloria”, and a setting of “Hope is a thing with feathers” — so we boxed those up and hauled them out. Consequently, my home library work table is clear and reduced to minimum size for the first time in weeks.

All that will change as the rest of next season's repertoire rolls in. Already I have two cartons from Faber Music in the UK to unpack, a process that will result in stacks of a Bach cantata. By mid-August the table will be at full stretch again with piles of scores to be stamped (“Property of …”) and numbered. Then Jane and Herb will return for an afternoon of twiddly work and uplifting conversation followed by a nice cold bottle.

My granny used to make quilts with a gang of church ladies. They worked in an upstairs room at Granny’s house that was probably the only indoor space in town that could hold a fully extended quilting frame and the work crew. (Granny’s house was built as an inn, and I think that room had once accommodated three or four beds.) Nowadays, when I settle down to an afternoon of music maintenance with my friends, I perceive the continuation of a well-established pattern of small town life for older folks. If it wasn’t the choir, I would have to join the garden coven, or finally learn to sew …!