It being the 22nd November tomorrow, I would usually spend all day listening to nothing but the music of Benjamin Britten, who was born on that day in 1913. It's something of an annual tradition in these parts, faithfully observed since at least 2007.
Unfortunately, family matters have intervened this year and instead of sitting down and enjoying the delights of Paul Bunyan, Peter Grimes or the Cello Symphony, I shall instead be driving towards the nearest airport and picking up a relative for a couple of days of home cooking and more alcohol than is probably good for you. Which isn't, of course, unfortunate in the least ...but does rather mean Britten has, for once, to go on the back-burner this year. No doubt I will squeeze in as much of his music as I can next week. And there is always December 4th, for example, which is the anniversary of his death.
Anyway: though I cannot celebrate as usual, I encourage all my readers to dabble in at least one of Britten's gems. He is so worth it!