I arrived, chair in hand, five minutes before the scheduled starting time, at the hottest part of the day, and saw no one I recognized, not even the people who had invited me, among the throng of 10-15 people. I waited around for 15 minutes, entertained by the erection of a gazebo canopy for the musicians. Gazpacho and canapes for everyone would have been better.

Finally, a single guitar player took his position and was, I think, introduced by a woman whose voice carried maybe five feet, at best. Still no one there I knew, so I decided to take a walk, the obvious destination being the Dairy Queen just under a mile away, for a chocolate milk shake.

I took my time and got back 40 minutes later, just in time to see that the orchestra had grown from one to five, and was preparing to play a Mozart clarinet quintet. Attendees now numbered 40, about 10 of whom had instrument cases with them, but still no one even remotely identifiable to me.

I stayed long enough to hear the church bells provide percussion for the group at the top of the hour, though, disappointingly, not with the quintessential Westminster Quarters ditty, and then decided to head back to air conditioning, now indifferent to finding anyone or listening to any music.