Making Sense of Haydn

It's Friday. I'm at the Lunch Hour Concert with my mum. We've arrived early because it's the Australian String Quartet. We're sitting in the middle of the fifth row from the front, behind two empty seats. We have a good view of the stage from here.

Two of the tallest men ever sit down in front of us. Our row's filled up, we can't move now. My man has dark curly hair and a black cardigan. He looks like Alain De Botton, before Alain De Botton went bald, but not before the balding had begun, ever so slightly. My mother's man is even taller than mine. He has grey hair, a black jumper and red trousers. I deduce that he is German. The men start talking. Alain de Botton is English. The German is German, I was right.

I read the program. Haydn wrote a squillion string quartets and the two we are to hear are good ones. The first one features a Witches Minuet and the sounds of a donkey. It features interlocking intervals of descending fifths, and later on, thirteenths. I resolve to listen out for them.

Meanwhile I am trying to listen to Alain de Botton and the German. Try as I might, I can't catch what they're saying. Only the word economics, light, and intersecting lines.

The Australian String Quartet come on. They are wearing black and green and looking very pretty. Rachel's hair is cherry red, at the ends. I listen for the Witches Minuet. I have to wait a long time, but I hear it, because I'm following the program notes. I don't identify The Donkey, or the thirteenths. Or the fifths.

The concert is over and the two tall men remain seated. Alain de Botton says something I can't catch, except for 'stream of conciousness'. The German laughs. They stand up. I see his red trousers again.

I couldn't hear that properly, says my mum. My hearing aids were switched off.

On our way out we stop at the desk to ask if anyone has found my mum's umbrella. Jeanette goes downstairs to have a look. Claire the manager engages us in conversation. Aren't they wonderful! she says. And so are those quartets! A lot of people think that Haydn is a bit wishy washy, but these two pieces are so feisty.

Feisty, yes, I suppose that's what they are. Jeanette can't find the umbrella.

Later, my mum buys a new one.