I saw the most gorgeous little concert two nights ago. It was a Scottish Chamber Orchestra number. What they call their CL@SIX. Classic pieces I suppose at six o'clock. It's a great premise. Potted culture to appeal to the home-going workers. Unfortunately, as is the way with all of my obscure pursuits, the SCO's most honourable intentions were thwarted. The predominant hair colour in the audience was white. With a little dirty blonde mixed in.

But the concert was nonetheless absolutely delightful. My classical music tastes are populist. They live up the standards of no-one that knows anything much. I like a little Bach, love the Queen of Sheba, Zadok and Mozart's death mass. My foray into the obscure extends only as far as Gorecki. And that only his populist third symph. So I can't claim to be any kind of master. Perfect audience then for the CL@SIX.

And I was charmed. We had a little Strauss, a Suite in B Flat. A perky little thing that skipped along but dwelt romantically now and again to make us feel a little bit melancholy. And then a wind serenade from Dvorak. I could pretend I heard the eastern European overtones in his stramping march but I'd probably be lying to myself. Or at least, wouldn't have heard them if the programme notes hadn't told me to.

It took place in St Cuthberts, a church I have never visited and am now glad I did. A lovely venue with beautiful accoustics. I would and will try such a cultural hometime foray again. £12 if you're paying real money for an hour's probable loveliness that makes you feel refined and civilised. On a filthy night such as Tuesday was - or even on a nicer one - this in my book is money well spent.