To put you in the picture – several weeks ago I booked tickets for a concert to take place this past week at the Wigmore Hall.
It appealed to me for all sorts of reasons. There was history, discovery (some of the programme was so obscure I thought I’d probably never hear it live again), drama, even youth studies. There was a band I love.
And then there was a sort of deep satisfaction in participating in a major enterprise that would last as long as Mozart’s life.