‘Composition isn't about a person; it's about sound and music, whose magic is ephemeral in its effect on us.’

In July 2014 it was announced that Judith Weir was to succeed Sir Peter Maxwell Davies as Master of the Queen's Music. Like him, she was to be appointed for a term of ten years, and much was made of the fact that she was to be the first female Master in the 388-year history of the role. An unassuming one, too: she told Tom Service

Naturally, when I interviewed her for this book in November 2011 I had no idea that I was talking to the next Master (the role has no female title but at the time of the appointment a friend of hers suggested ‘Mastress’, which I imagine she liked). It was just one more encounter – an important but in some ways unremarkable one.

After walking for a few minutes from the local Underground station I found her house, a large end-of-terrace on a street corner close to an arterial road in south London, with plenty of time to spare, and so walked around the grey, damp streets for a quarter of an hour before knocking at her door at the agreed time. She welcomed me in, introduced me to her partner and their dog, who then went out for a walk, made us some tea and took me upstairs to the first-floor living room for the interview.

We sat around the coffee table to talk, and she leaned forward conscientiously while answering my questions, rather like a professor giving a one-to-one tutorial. She spoke softly and rather earnestly but not without humour, and I couldn't help noticing that her emphasis on the importance of clarity in her music was echoed in her speech, which was precise and succinct. Afterwards, as the light was fading, she stood by one of the windows for a hasty photo session.

In short, this was a straightforward, businesslike encounter with a straightforward, businesslike person who nevertheless put me at my ease and engaged in discussion with gratifying seriousness.