Then, in 1971, much out of amusement I clipped this notice from the Sunday Times of London:
“I have undertaken to write a book, mainly autobiographical, but unfortunately I have never kept programmes or diaries. I should be most grateful if any readers who may have collections of opera, recital or concert programmes covering performances in which I have taken part would send to me c/o Cassell and Company, 35 Red Lion Square, London, WC 1, lists with dates of my performances.” signed . . .
Elisabeth Schwartzkopf, Geneve.
Today, I’m in sympathy, sitting in my house with a cup of tea and pondering the fragility and strength of time. Melancholy? Perhaps, but then there's this (here from the video which marked one of opera's few, memorable interruptions into my childhood and adolescence)...