It has been a long night. The delays have been plentiful. The waiting has been lengthy. We are all tired. It has been fun, but now it is time to rest, time to sleep.
We slowly descend into the basement, into the large workroom. It is very quiet, almost silent.
It is quite dark, but there is just enough light to see where we can stand or sit, and just enough light to see that something is hanging from the ceiling.
What can it be?
Many things.
Perhaps as many as fifty long strings are suspended from the ceiling, held tight by the weight of something on the end of each one, something heavy enough to pull the strings tight.
As tight as the string of a strange musical instrument.
And then we hear it. (Turn on your speakers and click the play button below.)
The soft tinkling of something magical, the sound of frost dancing on a winter's night.
The sound of a distant galaxy whispering through the cracks of another dimension.
So quiet that you don't want to breathe, in case it disturbs that wonderful soft music.
And then a small light appears on the ceiling at one end of the 50 strings, shining downwards.
We can see at the end of the string there is a spoon, or a fork, suspended inside a drinking glass.
And moving ever so slightly, brushing the glass, sending a light glitter of sound into the darkened room, falling in the ears of twenty silent people.
Slowly, very slowly, the light begins to move, to make it's way towards the next string, and a different sound.
It is entrancing. We are spellbound, watching the light travel across the ceiling, across 50 strings, hearing the varying sounds of teaspoons and forks and serving spoons, crashing softly into the crystal sides of glass. sending wave upon wave of tantalising tinseltown tinkling through the tingling air.
