Listening to Parry's De Profundis as I roasted pork, and as if to something unknown, the first solo entry came at once out of the performance and out of my memory.  I knew it as well as though I were the singer.  I breathed & phrased it.  And recalling, I found it was at High Street [the house at Harrow school where her father was housemaster] I knew it: 1913, perhaps. One preserves time so completely intact - for I hadn't given it a thought since - that one feels like an airtight jar when it comes out again.