While Peter was playing The Angel Who Bears a Flaming Sword, sirens started to ring out on the street (not unusual in downtown Boston). My initial thought was, regret that the external noise was marring the experience. But then, knowing what a trooper Peter is, and how embracing his musical tolerance ... I knew that he would not let it rattle him at all, and that his steadiness of purpose would carry the experience.
I also thought, then, how fortuitous the timing was. The sirens had not sounded out while Peter and I had played the calm, quiet Zen on the Wing. Not only had they "waited" until the turbulent part of the solo piece, but then, they were done by the time Peter reached the lyrical section.
There was a child who vocalised (not to excess) at interesting points during the Irreplaceable Doodles, and the final duet. Curious to say, it was with a kind of pleasure that I noticed. One of my own earliest memories is of a special, non-domestic sound, in a solemn church interior; and I was pleased to think that my clarinet (and Peter's flute) might become one of this child's earliest, enduring memories.