That is more than can be said for another occasion when I was to play with the Prometheus Ensemble at Claydon. I duly arrived but with a broken windscreen, one bright Bank Holiday Sunday, at Claydon Hall in Sussex at 4.45. It was the wrong place. I needed to be in Hertfordshire, at Claydon House, but the Bank Holiday traffic didn't seem to know this. I sat in the midst of it until 9 p.m., listening on the radio to the deputy I had supplied at Glyndebourne playing Strauss's Ariadne, but never getting near to Claydon House. I have never been asked there since, and can't say I blame them. It doesn't happen often, luckily. << less