In my teens and twenties I didn’t understand the Bach-hype. I’d performed very little of it, being part of the wonderful Oxfordshire County Youth Orchestra which offered opportunities to perform some of the great large symphonic works, mostly Romantic / Twentieth century like Tchaikovsky’s Fourth Symphony, Rachmaninov’s Second and Shostakovich’s Fifth. We did some chamber music too in smaller groups which included the Third Brandenburg concerto. Back then, I preferred the clarity and perfection of Mozart and the passion of Beethoven.

However, having now performed more Bach, and fallen in love with it, I wonder why I didn’t discover it earlier. Perhaps you just need to be a bit older and have more music under your belt to start to (try to) understand the exquisiteness of the dissonances and harmonies – music that can, even today, sound incredibly modern.

So, up the M5 we went to Birmingham last night. Symphony Hall is wonderful and makes us Bristolians green with envy. Our rather dowdy Colston Hall is just, well, dowdy (OK, nice stairwell in the new foyer but the hall itself hasn’t been touched yet). Symphony Hall is comfortable, clean and bright, and has such a sensitive acoustic that means you can hear a man fainting from quite some distance – as we did during the first half!

The chorus arrived, ladies in matching – but not all that flattering – outfits. The children’s choir took up position at the left of the stage – girls in pink tops, boys in black shirts and pink ties! Ye gods – that’s one quick way to make boys give up singing, isn’t it? The chorus discipline was eye-catchingly impressive – co-ordinated standing and sitting, folder etiquette – all very regimented and tidy.

As Simon Rattle stepped up to the podium for his eagerly-awaited return the warmth of the applause was almost overwhelming. And then on to the music. From the outset, the clarity of the orchestra – playing without vibrato and with such exquisitely perfect intonation – was breathtaking. It meant you get past the notes and can hear the music. Rattle’s conducting style is so familiar (I’ve only seem him live once before but he seems to pop up on the telly quite frequently) yet so unexpected as he found depths, phrases, nuances in the score I’d never heard before – coaxing them from the orchestra with a lean towards them, a raise of an eyebrow, the fluttering fingers of his left hand.

The chorus were magnificent – incredibly precise, very tidy – but not as loud as I’d expected given the numbers and the quality. The first movement is really hard (particularly for the second chorus) but felt very assured, very secure.

And then Mark Padmore, singing the Evangelist, leapt to his feet and proceeded to tell us the story. From memory, throughout. In German but with such astonishing communication that it felt like he was singing in English. When he wasn’t singing he dominated the stage, standing and listening with his head to the side to hear the response from the soloists and choir, or sitting moodily in his chair, at the foot of Rattle’s rostrum, but with his back to the conductor. But despite neither being able to see the other, they were perfectly in tune with each other as they told the tragic, brutal, harrowing and gory story of Christ’s betrayal, crucifixion and death.

Christian Gerhaher, as Christ, was noble and dignified, and dramatically fearful and anguished in one of the most moving parts of the story as he prays to ask God if he might be spared the agony and humiliation of the really unpleasant death in store for him. (The answer was no.)

The other star of the show for me was mezzo Magdalena Kozená. Her voice has both clarity and fruitiness but the richness of tone doesn’t ever conceal the words or degenerate into warble. Her Ebarme Dich, coming just after Peter’s betrayal (itself is one of the most remarkable passages of the Evangelist’s solo), was incomparable. Anguished, heartbroken, tortured.

Clustered around the centre of the stage at that moment were Laurence Jackson (the CBSO leader elegantly playing the violin obbligato), Magdalena Kozená, Simon Rattle and to the right the continuo organist – world class musicians creating this absolutely exquisite moment. There were 2,100 people in the audience – a sell out, of course – but it felt as though they were performing it for each individual.

The concert was recorded for broadcast on Radio 3 on 10th March. I thoroughly recommend it.

So, after a few months a newsletter was sent round which mentioned a new adult club starting on Thursday nights and an invitation to ‘any mums and dads that would like to have a go to come along and see if they can keep up’. Well, that sounded like a challenge to me, and I like a challenge. My enthusiasm to try this new sport was unfaltering, until the time it came to walk around for my first training session… and the short walk gave me every opportunity for self-doubt, worry, anxiety and frankly, a fear of making a complete fool of myself. The warm ups range from simple forward rolls to some fancy right- and left-side breakfalls (striking the mat with the free arm to absorb the impact of the fall), and it had been decades since I’d attempted anything along the lines of a roly-poly. Added to that the opportunity to engage in hand to hand fighting with someone whose sole purpose is to throw you to the ground and hold you there, and I was ready to turn around and head for home.

But I made it round and – to my great relief – the doors were locked and there was no-one there. Phew. I could return to the safety of home with my head held high having had the *intention* of taking part. But then Paul Hepburn appeared, a black belt member of the club, with keys, and opened up. So no turning back!

I was incredibly lucky that there were only four people at my first training session: Steve Chappell, sensei of the club who has been learning judo from his father, the club’s founder, since he was 3; together with Paul and his son Lewis, a teenager and blue belt. So I had one-to-one training alternating with Paul and Steve throughout the evening covering all the basics without too many people to watch my pitiful attempts. My rolls were a bit square-wheel like; I felt like a sack of potatoes and couldn’t do sit ups (stomach muscles ravaged by four lots of childbirth and not enough exercise), but Steve and Paul humoured my attempts with words of encouragement, and I went back for week 2.

5 months later I walked round with the same anxiety and nerves but this time on my way to my first ever grading. The judo exam at my beginner level is straightforward enough, requiring demonstration of a syllabus of throws, hold-downs, strangles and arm locks, and a little light contest. I was delighted to come away being awarded my 5th Kyu – so I can now wear a yellow belt, and start learning and think about working towards the next: orange. So thanks to my instructors Steve, Paul, Judy and all the judoka who’ve helped me along the way.

The judo people I’ve met have been generous in spirit, keen to share their knowledge and surprisingly gentle. The word judo means ‘the gentle way’ and I am still astonished to watch two black belts grappling with all their skill, technique and strength when necessary, ending in a hold down, arm lock or strangle – but even during a fight will exchange friendly words and tips on techniques. It’s a fantastic sport and I wish I’d discovered it years ago!

I put together some recipe cards for a joint promotion for Chantenay and UK Shallots recently. These were to go in a press pack being sent out to journalists so they can include the recipe in Christmas features – the long lead times for monthly publications mean that if they don’t get into the feature now, they’ll miss the boat. Thinking about Christmas in the middle of a heatwave is challenging!

One of David’s incredible strengths as a conductor (I know I’m biased, I’m married to him!) is the utter dependability he gives in performance and his ability to draw ever more from singers regardless of their starting point, and never more so than on the concert platform. I have seen him work with singers of all levels from the most modest talent to the most accomplished, he inspires a confidence, a desire to want to sing better, that is astonishing.

Saturday’s concert will live in the memory for a long time to come – and I’m dewy-eyed about how fortunate I am to sing with such a magnificent group of musicians.