Now, the other day, the twins and I were all listening to Carl Nielsen's Symphony no.4, The Inextinguishable. Judging by the lack of howling, the twins certainly seemed to rate Nielsen above nappy changing; given the lack of contented glugs-glug-glugs, Nielsen isn't as popular with one-month-olds as bottles of milk. So, Nielsen rates somewhere between nappy-changing and milk, which is fair enough.
This afternoon, I tried Valentin Silvestrov. He rated lower on the nappy scale: Rosalind didn't seem to mind him - like one doesn't mind a fly buzzing round one's head - but Miranda seemed positively annoyed. In fact, during one of the less discordant passages, she threw up. All I can say is, as a very amateur musician myself, I'd be pleased if someone threw up to my music. At least it's a reaction, and it's better than polite indifference. Music as emetic: you don't see that very often at the Proms.
Sibelius and Brahms weren't vomit-inducing, though I noticed that Miranda had one of her "bowel-movement" expressions during the great passcaglia at the end of Brahms's Fourth. But then, maybe that says something about the nature of that great finale. Maybe Miranda's going to be a great music critic in the future.