Tonight I was very pleased to be able to attend a performance of Handel's Messiah, sponsored by a local university. Relaxing into the familiarity of the music and the power of the words, I was able to let all the tensions and frustrations of the past few weeks slip away unnoticed. After the applause had finally tapered off, I frantically pushed my way up to the front and accosted one of the cellists. Even if he couldn't completely understand my fumbling plea, eeked out in a mixture of bad English and even worse Arabic, he could at least see the desperation in my eyes, and willingly he surrendered his cello to me for a few minutes. Three months is a long time, the longest I've ever been without playing. Like an ex-smoker who's coping reasonably well until a chance whiff from another's cigarette sends him scrounging for one of his own, tomorrow when the reality of the many months still to come sets back in I'll regret tonight's impulsiveness. But for now I ride the high and defy the consequences.