Well, the Brahms Requiem has been performed. It was yesterday.
The day was very cold for the first Sunday in June,
and some of us turned up wearing winter coats over our concert blacks.
But at least there was no rain, and the sun came out.

The performance went very well, I think.
It's hard to tell how it actually sounds when you are in the thick of it.
We choristers were behind the orchestra, and
the orchestra was facing away from us, toward the audience.
So we literally did not hear what the audience heard.
But what I could hear sounded good.

I can't say it was a transporting experience for me.
No, I was working hard the whole time,
more perspiration than inspiration, for certain.
Watching the conductor's baton, glancing at the musical score and turning pages,
taking deep breaths in the right places,
spitting out all that German diction . . .
in the meantime the soles of my feet went somewhat numb
from standing for the better part of forty-five minutes
before there was a place where the chorus could sit down for a time.

The hall had a few empty seats but it was largely filled, and it's a large hall.
So we had a good turnout, and we were warmly applauded,
you can't ask for more from the audience
(they listened very attentively, with no disruptions).

Afterwards I met up with a dear friend
and we went out for cups of hot chocolate at a nearby cafe.

Then I went home and collapsed!