I have since had the experience in Havana of hearing some bombs go off in the middle of the Andante cantabile of Mozart’s D Major Concerto, and – later in the evening while walking along the grass-bordered Promenade – of being brushed (along with other promenaders) into the side streets by the unperturbed and- for such exigencies as theses- well-conditioned police of this beautiful and perhaps too eventful capital.