Happiness is an hour at the Wig

Or, more precisely, an hour of Haydn string quartets at Wigmore Hall. Scarcely, dear reader, does one find a Haydn performance and almost never four string quartets played back to back.

I was - and still am - in heaven.

No, the mathematically minded of you are not wrong, I didn't stay for the second half. This is because I have a very hurty head indeed and general not-feeling-well and also a loudly rumbly tummy, owing to having forgot to have lunch. Yes, it's been that kind of a week. Anyway, now I am propped up with a hurty head, my anti-rumbling Pot Noodles and the last movement in my head.

Haydn's a bit like Austen - his works are just so irresistibly happy.

Thanks London, for dusting off those Haydn quartets for us.