Free Reflections of Sunflowers by Ruth Silvestre

festival the students would give a free concert in the square. It was both a thank you to the little town for so warmly accommodating the annual musical invasion and a gentle encouragement to everyone to buy tickets for the rest of the concerts. For this concert we atesupper early and drove into Monflanquin to be sure of a seat close to the front. The young orchestra from Westphalia, after what seemed an age of tuning up – although nothing is ever done in a hurry here – started off the evening with the Overture from
Oberon
. The orchestra then took a short break while the concert continued with a young Russian who bowed with immense dignity before seating himself at the piano and dashing off an impressively difficult piano solo by Liszt. As the audience applauded and cheered his performance, more and more people arrived, slipping quietly into their seats. The light began to fade and arc lamps were switched on. A chair was set in the middle of the stage and a small Japanese girl carried in her cello and sat very still for a moment before she began to play Bach, her long thick hair swinging gently as she tilted her head. There was a pause as the orchestra returned and retuned. People changed seats for a better view or to sit nearer friends. We then enjoyed two young violinists who shared the Beethoven violin concerto. The first player was French and she tackled the very difficult first movement; the second and the third movements, which run together, were played by another Japanese student. It was fascinating to compare their different strengths and weaknesses. The audience, now grown so large that it was necessary for some to find seats on the walls around the square, responded with enthusiasm.
    As the evening continued and stars began to appear, children gradually fell asleep and were carted home; their places taken by diners at nearby restaurants who, having finished their meals, came closer to listen. The small tree-lined square has a wonderful atmosphere, perhaps because for almost seven hundred and fifty years it has been a place for meeting and celebration. Just after midnight the orchestra, after many an encore, persuaded us to go home with the sound of their final spirited performance of Brahms’
Hungarian Dances
still ringing in our ears as we all drove away down the dark and winding roads.
     
    A few days later we had to go to Bordeaux to meet Thomas. Our ten-year-old grandson was flying out to have a week with us on his own before the rest of the family arrived. Neurotic grandparents, we left at 8.30 a.m. to get to Bordeaux to meet the plane at 11.32. Bordeaux is only a hundred miles from us and as we sped along we discussed ways of passing the time after our inevitably very early arrival at the airport. All these ideas were forgotten as on the ring road into Bordeaux we encountered a five-kilometre tailback. We crawled past the road works, and frequent deviations, becoming increasingly worried. When we finally arrived at 11.30 we parked the car and raced into the reception hall to find a slightly tense Thomas, fortunately looked after by a friendly and conscientious air-hostess. Thomaswas on his best behaviour. No doubt he had been primed by his parents and, without his brother, whom he really adores but…he was an easy and surprisingly grown-up and delightful young guest.
    He had arrived in time to watch one of our trees being cut down. When we first bought Bel-Air there was one great ash tree, which gave us shade on the north side of the house. Nearer to the house, almost touching the wall of the
chai
was another ash, originally a seedling I suspect, of the older tree. It was small and graceful then and we didn’t listen when Raymond tut-tutted and told us that it was too close to the house.
    ‘
Il faut le couper, maintenant
,’ he had said ‘
Autrement
…you’re going to have problems one of these days.’
    He was right, of course, he always is where growing things are concerned, and now the day of