Stewart, 61, is made a CBE after 35 years at the top of the music industry. Glennie becomes Dame Evelyn in recognition of her remarkable career. Profoundly deaf, she experiences music by absorbing vibrations.
Yoshino Funaki was reported to have been asleep .
When I arrived home last night around 9pm I found this on a note left to me by Ken, my landlord "there may be some work done in the flat below until late, water will be off for a while and don’t be alarmed if you hear some noises" At 4 am this morning I woke to the sound of hammering, the drums the drums I thought before the saner part of my brain kicked in and I stumbled out of bed to go investigate. Realising that social conventions demand that suitable dress is worn for most human interactions I wrapped a towel round my waist, pulled on a raincoat and stumbled down in my extra large blue pajama t-shirt to the flat below. The scene I burst into was almost akin to an al capone movie due to the guilt and surprise on the protagonists’ faces. Two men were in the corner mid-hammer blow as I burst in, one other was in a little side alcove, sitting on the not yet fully concealed toilet that was being worked on. During my subsequent diatribe he had only enough time to register what was going on half pull up his trousers whilst frantically trying to also flush the loo. His downfall was his indecision between the two tasks. Had he concentrated on one I think he could have managed to fully clothe himself before I had finished. I started well, "It’s four am", I said, "four am" I repeated, one guy looked at me as if fascinated by this hysterical wild haired apparition before him and the other, older guy, taking time to consider my statement, nodded. ‘Yes’ he seemed to say ’she is right, I won’t fault her, it is four am’. "I have to work tomorrow" I said, feeling like I was losing them, I was in fact losing myself, work is never a good small talk topic and these guys were a tough audience. Feeling like something drastic was needed I finished my impromptu speech more strongly, "stop!" I cried and then departed. This ending I thought, had nailed it, the tone had been just right, the speech the perfect length, a pithy ode to the sacroscant nature of sleep. It was, I thought to myself as I dove into bed trying to find the hot hollow I had left behind in the duvet, exactly the firm sort of tone needed to show them the error of their ways. They are sorry, I thought, and I will forgive them in the morning. It was at this point that the hammering started again. Stopping only to grab my black raincoat again, (the towel I had not bothered to take off), I sprinted downstairs, out the back door, barefoot through the garden, down the side steps to the bottom flat and yet again burst in to the flat below. The scene had not changed, possibly the guys in the corner were two nails across, the only difference was the guy on the toilet was now standing in the middle of the room, a broad smile on his face as if he had been expecting me and was there to greet me. I started again in the same vein "It’s four am!" I cried. This time neither guy in the corner reacted, ‘It was four am’ they seemed to reproach me with ‘but I think it’s at least ten past by now’. "I’m working in the morning!" I said, making the same mistake as last time, "stop!" I cried and even I could see the fallacy of repetition. It showed on the main guy’s face, this woman is a one trick pony. "Hello" he said, smiling broadly, as if welcoming a friend, "It’s ten past four" I said, "Yes" he said again smiling as if congratulating me on my astuteness, "Stop!" I said. "We’ve only got a couple more nails to do" he said, gesturing at a vast field of unfinished planks. At this point I felt as if reality had played a trick on me and inversed itself to the point where it was I who had commited the interruption, I who should be apologising for stopping them mid plank with my bad conversation and dubious choice of early morning apparel. "It’s four am" I said weakly. He saw the doubt in my face and sprang to the offensive, with the air of one who has held back his trump card all along, waiting for that moment when his opponent should falter "The landlord left you a note" He said triumphantly. The old guy in the corner nodded ‘it’s a fact’ he seemed to say ‘ there was a note’ I felt shaken, there were three of them, they had all their clothes on, I didn’t; they seemed able to be coherent at 4 am, so far I had only managed to come out with two word statements; they had nails to hammer and all I had was bare wet feet. Maybe I should go, I thought, and just leave them to it. It was at this point, while gazing down at my feet in doubt, that I rallied. No, I thought, I would not be beaten, not when there was still so much sleep to be had. "It’s four am" I began again, weak at first but growing stronger as I progressed "I have to work tomorrow and I have bare feet and they are wet", the guy in the corner looked, verified and then nodded. This gave me strength, I squared back my shoulders and using the default 4am brain setting of an eight year old Yoshi I pulled out two trump cards of my own. I spoke again, and in my voice rang the convinction and threat of an eight year old who knows that in this argument, in the adult world, no matter what the other kids think, they will be backed up "If I hear one more noise from here I’m calling Ken" I said . Not waiting for them to rally from this blow I then delivered my knock out punch, I delivered the phrase my mother used to use in her idiosyncratic English when as a child I had pushed her that one step too far "That’s enough now! I mean it!" I said, I paused and then: "fullstop!" I cried triumphantly. Turning my back on their bemused faces I took myself, my bare feet, my yellow towel and my unwaxed legs triumphantly back to bed.
