Self-indulgent (moreso)

After spending three hours in a hairdresser today I decided that I had earned some kind of treat. It's hard work sitting there and reading Vogue. So, after a quick lunch with the hard-working Ant., I headed home via the biscuit section in the David Jones Foodhall. This place routinely does my head in; it smells so very, very good. And it seems as though every time I walk past they're baking orange and poppy-seed biscuits. I tried a passion-fruit shortbread, a chocolate-chip cream (overkill - but in the nicest possible way) and, of course, an orange and poppy-seed. No complaints. 

This evening, N., D.M. and I grabbed dinner at the original (and best) Kammadhenu and then headed to a concert at St Stephen's church in Camperdown park. The Cologne New Philharmonic Chamber Orchestra played a series of eight different pieces in the lovely old church and were joined by an amazing flautist for a few pieces. I've never seen anyone play the flute like this; she played as though the flute were alive, trying constantly to dart out of her grasp like a thrown spear. She was fighting the instrument throughout her performance; dragging it back down when it started to surge upwards and drawing it back towards her as though she were in a tug of war. Her body moved from the waist; big, dynamic movements against a counter-force. This is the only classical concert I've been to where they played an encore; the music director (also a viola player) kept sidling across the floor to whoever was leading a section and gesturing, or hissing or talking - all with a slightly wild smile as he goaded them further into the music. They're playing at the City Recital Hall, Angel Place tomorrow - see them if you can.