Gertsamtkunstwerk

Mozart by numbers

I knew I had a ticket to a concert tonight; looking at the ticket, and what it was advertising, I realise I must have bought it  in about July.

At work I checked on the South Bank website and groaned. Mozart, Mozart and Mozart. I am just about out-Mozarted. I looked at what CDs I had with me: three Mozarts, and an Arias compilation. I think I'll listen to the arias compilation. "Il mio tesoro..." No! Not more bloody Mozart, not when I'm not expecting it. But by La ci darem la mano, I'm thinking, I do like Mozart.

I wasn't really sure what the programme was. Just things with numbers. A Rondo,  a Piano concerto, and a Symphony. I think I guessed which Symphony it was. a clue on the website about it being the one - along with Beethoven's Fifth - with the most familiar opening. "Ringtone!" I exclaim, being such a post-modernist Twenty First Century girl.

It was the Philharmonia, with Mikhail Pletnev directing from the piano. In the first half, anyway - he conducted the Symphony from the Podium.

All the pieces were familiar to me, the piano concerto and symphony extremely so, the Rondo more so than most pieces of non-vocal music by most composers.

Listening to the Rondo for piano and orchestra in D, K382 and Piano Concerto No 20 in D minor, I couldn't help thinking, this is nice music, pleasant little melody, but perhaps it's about time I got over Mozart and graduated onto more grown-up music. Perhaps those nay-saying experts are right. It's easy-listening salon music, nothing profound. As far as I could tell, the pieces were executed perfectly, technically speaking, and although the music drew me into concentration and contemplation, assisted by a wonderfully well-behaved audience, I didn't feel moved emotionally in any way.

Second half, Symphony No 40 in G minor K550. Come on, you know the one. The one that's on Ringtones. Hooked on Classics, hit the charts in '82. Dededuh dededuh dededuhdurr,  Dededuh dededuh dededuhdurr, Dededuh dededuh dededuhdurr,  dededuh duh duh Dur Dur...Clichéd and trite, I quickly concluded. I'm well Mozarted out, am I really looking forward to Le Nozze di Figaro on Saturday?*

And then something happened to me. I heard this extraordinarily familiar extraordinary piece of music in a way I have never heard it before. I had never previously noticed that it is not scored for timpani - and you'd think I'd notice something like that. But it doesn't need timpani, because of the way it's written, with low strings providing the backbone that any decent symphony needs.

Then I noticed some extraordinary things happening in the woodwind. I am not a great fan of the flute, and for two dozen years I have clung to the belief that Mozart didn't like the flute (except of the Zauber variety, of course). I read it in a book in the school library, and when you're fourteen and you've worked your way through a text book, you know everything in it is true. Even if does annoy the hell out of the flautists you know. And I knew a lot -  "Influenced by James Galway and Atarah Ben-Tobin", that generation.

I have always adored Wolfie's clarinet writing, even though I don't like the clarinet as an instrument as much as I love the oboe and, especially, the cor anglais. But I have never really thought of this as a clarinet piece, certainly not in the same way as I think of the Clarinet Quintet and Concerto, and Cosi fan Tutte.  But something very special was happening in the Philharmonic woodwind section this evening. Kudos to Paul Edmund-Davies, Principal Flautist, and my star of the evening. That was one Zauber Flote! What an amazing dialogue with the strings.

I was thinking that the strings were not at their best (or was this the acoustics of the Queen Elizabeth Hall, a venue I'm not overly familiar with?), sounding a bit like a vinyl record with fluff on it. And then they did something. It suddenly struck me, in Wagner's Tristan und Isolde there's a passage of manic violins that, surely,was directly influenced by the fiddles in this.

Overall, probably a 6/10 evening. I'm glad I went, but I might have looked back on it a bit dismally if it wasn't for the beauty of the woodwind and especially the flute. I know that when I listen to Mozart's Symphony No 40 in future, I shall do so with a more profound understanding of the music. Especially the gorgeous second movement.

Can I just say to the woman behind me, you seemed like a very nice person, so I desisted from saying anything, but please, dear, next time, a bit less perfume. I am not especially sensitive to perfume, but I did find that it was irritating my throat and nearly made me sneeze. I don't mind really, but if I had sneezed it may have ruined the music for other  people. And, I'm afraid I would have had to explain that it was your perfume.  I did check discretely with the man next to me. He used the word 'pungent'.

*Silly question, of course I am...

Domingo cancels eight performances at Met

Domingo to Miss a Month of Met Performances - and more to the point, two broadcasts. Oh no. (Let's hope the BBC Radio 3 is planning to broadcast one of the Covent Garden performances...)

Plácido Domingo will miss tonight's performance of Alfano's Cyrano de Bergerac and seven additional appearances at the Metropolitan Opera because he continues to suffer from tracheitis, the Met announced. In addition to tonight's performance, the tenor has withdrawn from a February 4 performance of Cyrano and performances of Saint-Saëns' Samson et Dalila on February 10, 14, 17, 22, and 25 and March 2...Tracheitis is a bacterial infection of the trachea that can follow a cold or other viral respiratory infection.

He's still scheduled to conduct Rigoletto, so at least he's not resting - because we know what happens when he rests...

You know, I was toying with the idea of popping over to New York to catch a performance of Samson, but ultimately decided against it, because I didn't fancy braving the capriciousness of US airport security. There are already tickets being sold on Opera-L...

Get well soon, Pláci - and certainly by May. Please.

Seems that liquorice is a good cure I do hope that Dr LittleBrother isn't reading this, else I shall probably get told off...

Update: One news source phrases it Wonky Windpipe Sidelines Domingo

More links...enough already

Playbill Arts reports from the birthday party last week in Washington

Slightly amusing blogpost I found on t'internet.

(Next time someone has one of one of those blogsoul-searching sessions about 'why blog' I'll never be able to comment "I pay no attention to my site stats")

But just remember, this is not the last birthday cake you'll see blogged 'ere in the next seven days

Ill Manners

Last week, upstairs on a nearly-full bus, I was sitting next to a random woman, and behind two women who were friends, but random strangers to my seatmate and me.

My seatmate had barely grazed my consciousness as we travelled up the hill. As the bus stopped at the traffic lights, a cough emerged from her larynx and immediately and instinctively she put her hand over her mouth. "Nasty cough," I thought, my instincts tending to sympathetic. It's January, there's a lot of it about.

The woman in front of me turned to her friend and, with no attempt to speak quietly, said "Listen to that person coughing. If they didn't smoke they wouldn't cough..."

My eyes and my seatmate's eyes met. She looked mortified; hopefully my slack-jaw, aghast (aka gobsmacked) look conveyed what I thought. Unfortunately, I suddenly realised my stop was looming, so I had to dash; otherwise I might have given the woman in front a piece of my mind.

The previous day I had been walking alongside the office and some woman - not a colleague, I suspected - said loudly "There's an awful lot of scruffy people around these days..." I looked around, expecting to see that groups of grungy youngsters had emerged from the Evangelical Christian Centre, but there were surprisingly few people around, a couple of chaps in reasonably smart if not especially expensive suits, and myself.

I glimpsed my reflection in the mirror as I passed. My reasonably smart suit was hidden under a respectable ankle-length coat. Ankle length because I'm 5'2"; admittedly, with a streak of mud from when a passing vehicle splashed me from a puddle. I couldn't see the problem. My hair was a little wild, there was a wind blowing. But it's been wilder...I concluded the problem must have been my lack of make-up, or my flat shoes - Doc Martens, but very girly Doc Martens - or perhaps my rucksack. but hey, I was going to work...

I then concluded that the problem was in the mind of the speaker, who, perhaps lacked the self-esteem to venture outside without the crutch of high-fashion and make-up.

But you know, I was brought up that you don't make derogatory remarks about people within their earshot. It's just rude. Both the offending women were older than me (looked it anyway) so it can't be blamed on some breakdown in society. And if they hadn't opened their mouths, I would have judged them to be civilised.

Victor Mishcon

Obituaries | Lord Mishcon

I can't say I follow the legal world in great detail, but I had certainly heard of Lord Mishcon. The obituary contains a fascinating summary of a fascinating life. A dry listing of chronology, but so much to be read between the lines. I remember there was some complex long-running case when I was on the council, but I'm struggling to remember what. Contrary to widespread belief at the time, the fact that I sat in meetings writing my diary does not mean that I was committing procedures to posterity...

Various links

A Nose Job Only Roxanne Could Love

A street named Plácido Domingo in Washington

And a positive review of Rigoletto last night at the Met. Bit of a dream team...

Do MPs' sex lives matter?

Do MPs' sex lives matter? asks The Observer.

At which point I go into classic Vicky Pollard mode "Yeah but no but yeah..."

There is a great deal of rubbish talked about politicians. The most irksome is "If he's going to lie to his wife about his sex life, he's bound to lie about Policy Issues." To which I say Bollocks. I assume that most people are dishonest some of the time. I'm the expert at inventing post hoc excuses for failing to act; my partner's specialised subject is trying to rationalise and justify alcohol consumption, to me, but mainly to himself. It does not follow that therefore we are fraudsters or cheats or whatever. Guess what, people compartmentalise their lives. The nature of life at Westminster, where Alpha-males, men and women, spend ridiculous hours often hundreds of miles from base create conditions for sexual adventuring. Of course, all French Presidents have mistresses. I think it's a prerequisite of the office.

And I personally don't care what a politician's orientation is: straight, gay, bisexual, whatever. I made the mistake of catching the beginning of Question Time the other night, when the panel included Simon Hughes. I turned off when some ghastly member of the public started ranting about "This is a Christian country yet we allow all manner of perversions lesbianism, homosexuality blah blah blah watch my eyes swivel." Give it a rest already. Haven't you grasped that people are sick and tired of the faux morality of religious nutjobs trying to tell people how to live their private lives?

What I don't like, and I sense this is widely shared, is the hypocrisy. I can't stand this flaunting of family by politicians. It's tired and clichéd and meaningless. Considering the majority of politicians are male I'm not sure how demonstrating they have ejaculated once or twice demonstrates their fitness for office. (I know there is a lot more to fatherhood than that, but it's possible to parade perfectly formed brats without having the slightest idea about them, their concerns, or the concerns of ordinary parents).

Perhaps we get the Press we deserve, although frankly, what we have done to deserve the shower that is the pride of Fleet Street beats me. It's no longer of any great interest when an MP, indeed, a minister is gay, per se. I'm not saying there isn't homophobia, but it's pretty muted compared to the misogyny that abounds (see Ruth Kelly). Or the class-based snobbishness (see John Prescott). Dave 'Citizen' Cameron has demonstrated that a history of non-problematic drug use is not in itself a bar, and Charles Kennedy has demonstrated that we are intolerant of problematic drug use (yeah, yeah, I know alcoholism is an illness, and I have every sympathy blahblahblah).

What continues to bug me is the continuing assumption that morality is all about sexual morality. It isn't. We have had a Leadership contest for the Tories dominated by drugs and class; we are having one for the Lib Dems which is dominated by sex. There will soon be one for the Labour Party and it's anybody's guess what irrelevant issue will dominate.

I have yet to see an any examination of the real morality of politicians. No one has had their carbon footprint examined. There has been little examination of how leading politicians of any party treat ordinary people. For me, they are much more important than who's screwing who. Watching Judge John Deed, I get very depressed at the portrayal of Senior Civil Servants of being hellbent on managing everything for convenience. To some extent it is the reality of government, but the caricature allows no room for principles, and doesn't allow that there are politicians in central and local government, supported by officials and officers who actually do want to improve the world in which we live. The debate should be about firstly, whether we agree on the aims, and secondly, whether we agree on the means and consider them practicable. That's what matters, but the media seem determined to expose the foibles of politicians or mock their personal idiosyncrasies, because it's a lot easier than getting out of Westminster Village and finding out what matters to ordinary people throughout the country and the extent to which government policies, or those proposed by Oppositions, will help or hinder us to lead a quiet life and fulfill our potential.

Rubbish at memeing

See, I can't even do a meme right when I tagged myself.

There's another question that I failed to answer.

Four things I want to do before I die:

I'm sure there's  a really hilarious answer to this, but I can't for the life, or death, of me think what.

I suppose I could give a really impressive answer like pack up the pursuit of material pleasure and work among the destitute (hey, I do all already, have you seen our departmental pay-scale?)

And then,  perhaps, it's quite tragic to say that "I must do this before I die" because if I die with that done undone - Bugger, what a waste of a life.

So, I hand it to you, my faithful and, by-and-large non-commenting readers.

What should I do before I die?

Update: As I have disabled the capability of posting pictures in my comment box, I shall have to respond to the first comment in the post body...

Photo

Tenor Placido Domingo, Director of the Washington National Opera, celebrates his 65 birthday and his 10-year anniversary as director of the Washington National Opera at the Kennedy Center in Washington Jan. 27, 2006. Domingo was born on Jan. 21, 1941. (AP Photo/Washington National Opera, Karin Cooper)

Thanks to Raffe

BTW, examining my site stats I realise I have various repeat non-blogging visitors who come here for one reason and one reason only...

So hello to:

• Austria
• Belgium
• California
• Czechia
• Germany
• Hungary
• Israel
• Netherlands
• Russia
• Switzerland
• Thailand
• United Kingdom

And the not so silent in New Zealand and Norway.

And I'm sure I've missed others, for which I can only apologise. My stats counter is less than perfect, sometimes I don't know why repeat-visitors are coming back, and, contrary to popular belief I do not spend every waking hour at the pooter...!

Four Things

I have an ambivalent attitude to meme-tagging.

I have been tagged a few times, and full of good intentions, I have promised to respond, and then, never got round to it, and it got embarrassing, and the tagger must have thought I was being rude, and I felt guilty, then it gets too late to make amends, and I'm too embarrassed to make amends, or even send a simple apology, so it's really not a good idea to tag me.

Then a meme goes round, and no one tags me and I feel upset, ignored, spurned

Capricious? Moi? Wanting it both ways? Moi? Of course...

Consider this an Open-Source tag...if you are similarly spurned, take it up. If you want. But don't feel obliged

Four jobs I've had:

Barmaid, in sundry locations
Domestic Cleaner, when I was a student
I've always worked as an auditor, except for six months as a management accountant. But I can divide audit into External and Internal, or Central Government and Local Government

Four films I can watch over and over:

Carmen
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
Shawshank Redemption
Sound of Music

Four places I've lived:

Sale, Manchester
Dunkirk, Nottingham
Westcliff, Essex
Streatham, London
Brixton, London

(I know, too many, but it's a complete list)

Four TV shows I love:

Have I Got News For You
Judge John Deed
Waking The Dead
anything by Dan Cruickshank

Four places I've been to on holiday:

Best places visited on holidays:
USA
Cuba
Egypt
Western Isles

Four of my favorite dishes:

Seafood pasta
Prawn curry (I generally go for a Malaya or the Chef's special, but I occasionaly fabour a Madras, Biryani, Rogan Josh)
Baked beans on toast
Creme caramel/creme brulee/crema de catalunya

Four sites I visit daily:

BBC News/Sport
Sitemeter
rec.music.opera
Google

(sorry, boring, but I visit Kinja, and thus the more frequently updated blogs more or less daily, except when I'm feeling daunted by blog-reading)

Four places I would rather be today:

Anywhere hot
Bed
In a spa, having an ayurvedic massage
New York

Four people to tag

You
You
You
You (in the comments box if you don't have a blog)

See, do it for myself, and I realise it's intrinsically boring, hence the fact that I get all performance-anxious when I'm tagged.

My bus stop

Bus shelter 222, Brixton Hill, Brixton. Historical Brixton - old and new photos of Brixton, Lambeth, London, SW9 and SW2

Searching for something else, I encountered a photo of my bus stop, in 1939 and 2004. Slight error in the caption, the post box has moved a few yards to the right out of shot.

I keep meaning to explore the Urban75 website in a lot more detail.

Another view of near where I live

There's the Lost Pubs of Brixton When I was Town Hall Ward councillor I always fancied doing a pub crawl of all the pubs in my ward. I reckoned it would be Town Hall Social club (closed), Branksome Arms (yuppy flats), Hope and Anchor, Duke of Cornwall (closing or closed), Royal Oak (closed), Red Lion (now a Caribbean restaurant), Prince of Wales, Waggon and Horses (closed), Hand in Hand, Sultan, Telegraph (trendy nightclub), George IV (trendy nightclub), Windmill, White Horse (trendy nightclub), Hope (became a vodka bar, dunno what it is now, I haven't been past in years), Fridge (trendy nightclub) and Mass/Crypt (trendy nightclub, restaurant, and opera company).

That's responsible local politics for you.

Being that I'm not a trendy nightclubber, you can imagine it would be somewhat less exciting now. Besides, the ward boundaries and name changed. And I'm semi-detached from the political process; although a chance encounter with a senior local councillor the other day conformed to me that my political instincts are as finely tuned as ever...!

On A Vulgar Error

I'm not a massive poetry fan, although I know what I like. In an attempt to elevate my thinking I have Ms Uborka's Poetry blog in my Kinja digest. Many of the poems do nothing for me; it's always pleasant to run across an old familiar.

And occasionally, it's nice to encounter an unfamiliar especially by an author that one has indifference to.

No. It’s an impudent falsehood. Men did not
Invariably think the newer way Prosaic
mad, inelegant, or what not.

Was the first pointed arch esteemed a blot
Upon the church? Did anybody say How
modern and how ugly? They did not.

continue reading CS Lewis

Happy Mozart Day

This entry is a bit of  a link log:

and a sticky post

09:04 Currently playing on the Gert Cottage CD player:

Austria celebrates Mozart at 250

You The Critic:Mozart

VOTE: Your favourite Mozart piece

Mozart: the singers' perspective - Gerald Finley and Philip Langridge tell us, in their own words, what sets Mozart apart from other composers.

UK TV highlights:

BBC4 Mozart 250 at 1900-2000; and 2300 - 0400

Artsworld has various Mozart from 1900-2220 and Performance is 'launching the first of a series of own-brand productions with a documentary exploring the musical secrets that underpinned the genius of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.' Blimey...

Google has noticed

Mozart, bravissimo!

A little on the younger son, Franz Xaver Mozart (neither of Wolfie's surviving sons had children)

Damn, to think that we satisfied ourselves a couple of years ago  that Mozart never had a blog. Turns out he does. Seems to be struggling a bit with bandwidth at the moment.

Why Radio 3 isn't scheduling Mozart (or any excuse for the Murdochian Empire to attack the BBC)

Even the Mirror has a Mozart story

The Official Mozart2006 blog - in German

And Nannerl's blogging, too

A monk blogs on Mozart

Mozart, our birthday gift

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Hacker...well, put that way...

It's Mozart's 250th Birth Anniversary!

Mozart's Mother

Mozart Day

Mozart dot com

Mozart's Paris Connection

11.30: Currently listening to:  Buy it, it's ace. Not yet available on Amazon, I read somewhere that the offical release day is 30 January. But that would be silly, because today is Mozart Day. And I got it through my letter box on Wednesday. Read my review of the connected concert

Happy Birthday to Johann Chrysostom Wolfgang Theophilus Mozart, with mp3s

The US-based National Public Radio has a Mozart special

Mozart Day

A Primer on Getting to Know Mozart

Wikipedia, with mp3s

Nicholas Kenyon's Must Have Mozart

The Classical Station seems to be playing Mozart all day.

The Mozart Project

Mozart: whatevs?

Various Mozart posts

The Wellsungs have some nice mp3s

And then there's the UKblogging Marriage of Figaro debate

Then I played Exsultate Jubilate again

14:22 now playing - although I have an earlier slightly different edition of this one...Someone once phoned me up and, hearing this, apologised for getting me out of the bath. Funnily enough, I had got out of the bath just before she had phoned. And she didn't even know me - councillor's casework...!

1700: Now playing a CD of Symphonies 29 and 40. On a CD which is obviously  a poor relation of Naxos; but damn fine interpretations by the Camerata Academica Salzburg under Bernhard Paumgartner. Oh, Salzburg....

Toujours Mozart

And absolutely nothing to do with Mozart, but today is also the 105th anniversary of Verdi's death

 

Not done this for a bit

There used to be the time when my site logs were full of wonderful whacky requests. It makes me giggle when I read through this category. But, for some reason, nowadays,they're dominated by sensible logical searches and requests for pictures of Jonny Wilkinson naked - look, he' likely to miss the Six Nations, again, and although it makes me weep, we might have to conclude that he is a has-been...maybe I should change my tagline to No Naked Pictures of Jonny Wilkinson. Still, there is this picture, which, I suppose, technically counts as naked.

The best of the rest:

• "rupert the bear" freemason - everyone knows his name...because he's a freemason
• postman pats fuckin alarm clock
• Oxford speed limit living room - I can't begin to work this one out
• sexy uniform woking girls free pics - Why can't people grasp that it's the world-wide web and if you're looking for porn, does it matter whether they're in Woking, Weybridge or Weston-super-Mare
• handel messiah horrible organ clip
- I filed this before Christmas as 'bizarre', but it turns out that it really exists...
• 1989 berlin wall west bridgford
• pictures of how boys in wheelchairs hold their penises to go pee pee
• cosi fan tutti is a load of crap
• over forty sex - Do people over forty have sex? Oh good, because I shall be forty in two years and ten days, so I might find out what this 'sex' thing is.
• pictures of ladies having sex with dogs - by definition, they're not ladies. Worryingly, the top hit for this request was This
• vin da loo most popular dish in England - Even though it's a hybrid French-Portuguese dish made with wine

Hmm, not the most exciting bunch. I want some disturbing search requests...

Cyrano cancels

subtitle: I Should Pay More Attention to My Site Stats

I have mentioned before how frequently I first find out about things by someone coming - inaccurately - to my site from a search request.

Yesterday, someone arrived via "Domingo cancels Met Cyrano", or some such, but I couldn't find anything to support this.

I should of course have consulted my blogroll, because La Cieca had already posted on this late on Tuesday night New York time.

There's a few comments there including

The buzz backstage at the Met tonight was that Plácido will be a no-show for the opening night of Cyrano - for sure.
The buzz extended his absence to the first half of the run, meaning he would only appear starting March 8th. I am skeptical about that, because I doubt he would miss the broadcast...

The broadcast is 4th February, and he's in a Samson broadcast on 25 February

Reportedly he was at the Dress Rehearsal on Monday.

His site is still listing tonight's performance, and that was updated yesterday to add in the New Orleans Benefit Gala.

The Met has changed details for tonight but still lists him for next Tuesday, although I personally wouldn't draw conclusions from that. They've also still got him down to conduct Rigoletto this coming Saturday (evening - the Matinee/broadcast is Cosi, Mozza, of course)

More if and when I discover it...

Update: The Associated Press says

Placido Domingo canceled his Thursday night performance in the opener of the Metropolitan Opera's revival of Alfano's "Cyrano de Bergerac" because of tracheitis.

Domingo has been bothered by the windpipe inflammation since it caused him to cancel appearances in Wagner's "Parsifal" at the Los Angeles Opera on Dec. 14 and Dec. 17. The Met said he would be replaced Thursday by Antonio Barasorda, who was to sing opposite Sondra Radvanovsky's Roxane.

The 65-year-old tenor still hopes to sing at the performances on Jan. 31 and Feb. 4 and at the three performances in March. The production, with Domingo and Radvanovsky, is to travel to London's Royal Opera for six performances from May 8-27.

Domingo plans to conduct "Rigoletto" at the Met on Saturday.

Hold the front page

Simon Hughes explains his gay admission

No surprise there, then. Except for the fact that the media seem to be regarding it as 'News', when I thought it was widely known anyway.

In the twenty first century it really shouldn't be a problem being gay or bisexual; this has been demonstrated by the number of out gay MPs and former MPs. And certainly for Simon Hughes who, to my knowledge isn't marrried and doesn't flaunt a false heterosexuality in campaigning, it really should be a non-issue.

Except for the fact that some of us have extremely long memories and regard the Bermondsey byelection of 1983 as one of the most shameful episodes in British Politics. It has been explained to me that Simon Hughes was not directly responsible for the horrendous homophobia against Peter Tatchell in that campaign. However, Hughes did absolutely nothing to counter it, and was more than willing to take advantage of it to win that seat which had previously been Labour held for generations, and which he still holds now (with a few boundary changes).

The irony of him coming out to the Sun hasn't escaped me. And, ordinarily, I do not think a politician's sexual orientation should be of any consequence. Indeed, it would be no bad thing for the Leader of a major party, or, failing that, the Lib Dems, to be gay or bisexual.

But it would also be delicious if Simon Hughes' leadership attempts were thwarted as a result of The Sun and homophobia.

It seems that Peter Tatchell is more forgiving than I am.

Update: I refuse even to link to the Sun front page that uses the phrase 'Limp-Dem'. I find that offensive.

Bring on the pie-eaters!

Manchester United beat Blackburn Rovers. Not a great game. But it's the result that matters in a Semi-final. I know it's only the League Cup, and no-one's season has ever been ruined by being knocked out of it.

But still, it's nice to be in the final.

And it's practically a local derby, against Wigan Athletic

This creates a dilemma for the mmofm guest blogger who has split loyalties.

Mind you, it says Bolton on his birth certificate...

Play that magic flute, babe...

Quiz: Is this Mozart or not?

I don't how many of you remember "NameThat Tune". I always was and always will be utter rubbish at it, because there are few tunes that I can name out of context. And quickly. I may well be able to sing the next umpteen bars. But name the tune? Not on your nelly

But this just gives you a multi-choice quiz as to who composed it. Sadly, no bonus points for speed of response. I got 10/10. But I'm ace like that *

This week is Mozart week in Gert Cottage. Indeed it's Mozart week all over the world

At home or at work I have played nothing but Mozart be it on CD or DVD (or VHS). On Friday, I wonder if I can stay up through the night to watch BBC4, who are, amusingly and very irritatingly, doing highlights of 24Hours Mozart and Radio 3 is barely even dedicating the day to him. But unless something else dramatic happens, Friday will be Mozartmania all the way of mmofm

* or the quiz is really easy!

The Rock That Came In From The Cold

Those of you who occasionally get nostalgic for those Cold War days of tit-for-tat spying may be amused by the explanation given on Today for the UK diplomats spying in Moscow

West Wing to be axed

Political drama West Wing is axed

I gave up a long time ago. not because of anything inherent in WW, one of my alltime favourite series but because of the capricious scheduling of Channel 4, E4, More 4, 4Again, 4+1, 4Four, 44444 etc.

I have concluded that I shall venture into personal virgin territory and slowly buy up the DVDs from Series One. I have never bought TV programmes on either video or DVD.

Customer Disservice Awards

Blue Witch is looking for nominations for appalling Customer Service.

I have nominated HSBC, British Gas Services and my Employers' HR/Payroll departments

The Bloggies

Fairvue Central >> Bloggies >> Sixth Annual Weblog Awards

I will say that I have a fundamental problem with the idea of Blog Awards. I do recognise that, in the field, The Bloggies have the most solid reputation. And I am aware that readers of mine have been nominated either this year or previously, and some are/have been involved in the shortlisting process. I think anybody who wins/is shortlisted/longlisted should feel proud of their achievement. Incidentally, I have cast some votes, but specifically only for Blogs that exist on my blogroll: ie Diamond Geezer, My Boyfriend Is A Twat, Naked Blog and Baghdad Burning, and I will be delighted if when they win.

My problem is twofold. One, blogging is supposed to be 'personal' and two, it's supposed to be 'decentralised'. When I first started blogging four years ago I had some ridiculous notion that somewhere I might earn some acclaim. Four years is a long time on the internet; if I was blogging for acclaim, I would have shut up shop a long time ago. I could pretend that I blog only for me, but that would be a fraction of the truth. Nevertheless, I am conscious that my blog conspicuously fails to be anything that 'good bloggers' are supposed to be. I mean, what category is it in, for starters? However, I do monitor my site stats, both incoming hits and outgoing links, and can safely conclude that I blog for all those who want naked pictures ofJonny Wilkinson (considering he has barely played in over two years, the continuing fascinating with him is interesting)! There are no naked pictures of Jonny Wilkinson, here, or anywhere else in the public domain.

Joking aside, I started this blog because I have a need to write, and it struck me as a nicely exhibitionist way of doing so. Anyone who knows me personally, and, I suspect, many regular readers, realise that I have the attention span of a flea, hopping from one topic to another, often in a semi-obsessive way "it's a just a phase you're going through," my mother still says, failing to realise that the phases are cyclical and repeating. But still...

I recognise that the Bloggies have a certain credibility because they aggregate from a critical mass. Often, critical masses can lead to the Lowest Common Denominator; conversely, there is often a reason why things are popular. But, on the other hand, I have no lasting interest in knowing what wins the Bloggies. It's USA-based, and I, suspect, dominated by an age-group lower than me - although I will stress that DG, Zoe, and Peter are older than me, as is Mike who was shortlisted last year. Some of my favourite blogs have a minute readership, or cover subjects that simply would never appeal to suficient people to ever make them likely to be nominated. Just as the Oscars are rarely an accurate guide to what films are good or what films I would like, I don't regard Blogging Awards as anything more significant than a vague direction sign.

Still, Congratulations and Good Luck to the Three Old Farts, who along with Mike, are regular reads for me because of their quality, not because they move with the cool kids.

Something I forgot to blog last July

It was one of those days.

I usually wake up to the Today Programme on Radio 4, but that day I had decided not to set the alarm, preferringa lie-in, in preparation for a special event that afternoon and evening - the Die Walküre Prom.

Before the Prom started I was chatting in the bar to a woman who had managed to secure herself a return by haranguing the Box Office all day until they got hold of one at 4pm - for a 5pm start...! She had not really been paying attention to what was on at the Proms, because she was moving house, and 'other things', so she only knew about Die Walküre when she was listening to Today that morning, and Plácido had been interviewed. I nodded and smiled, and the next day I downloaded the interview from 'Listen Again'. I also posted the permalink on rmo, and I have just remembered and found the link

I really am rubbish at blogging, aren't I?

Football

It seems such a silly subject for a post, considering that I don't only have a category here called Football, but that category contains sub-categories. All other sports are grouped together under... 'Sport Other Than Football'.

I have been a football fan as long as I can remember. Most specifically I have been a Manchester United fan. I suspect that my fandom has reflected the stage at life I was at. As a small child, I simply identified as a Manchester United fan. In my Teens and Twenties I was a regular attender, first only at Old Trafford and increasingly at away grounds. There could be a fascinating article written about how football fandom changes as life changes. But not by me.

I am approaching the first stages of young middle-age (but I'm still younger than Teddy Sheringham and Paul Ince, and don't you forget that...!)

In the 1990s it was utterly fabulous to be a Manchester United fan. I will never forget 1993, when we became Champions for the first time in my lifetime. And all those years of glory that followed.

Times have been lean of late, and I am conscious that I don't blog about United anything like as often I ought to. It's partly because of a sense of disillusionment with the football business. Not with the game, twenty-two men on the pitch, but the greed and nastiness, the Abramovitch-Glaser faction, if you will.

I started this season, as every season since 1970-something, full of optimism, even though the mature brain told me not to be so ridiculous. An Arsenal fan declared in August that Chelsea had already won the Championship, a statement I found profoundly depressing.

Back in August, in an early European qualifying match, a young player caught my eye. I did wonder how much of that was down to his impossible good looks, but I also know that over thirty years I've seen pretty boys come-and-go. In the few times I have seen him, albeit briefly, on the TV this season he has continued to strike me as being a promising player.

So Wednesday's FA Cup Third Round Replay against Burton Albion was an absolute delight, because there was no doubt who was Man of the Match - Giuseppe Rossi. One of the Four 'R's (along with Rooney, Ronaldo and Richardson). I know that Burton are very much lesser opponents, but the eyes cannot deceive - he has tremendous potential. Now we can only hope that he fulfills his potential. Sometimes, a player arrives on the scene who really goads me out of my jadedness. Even today, I was hoping he would come off the bench, and that Sky would put him onto Playercam, and I was really very disappointed that he didn't. I have never really used the Playercam, but for Rossi I just might.

He has played for Italy Under-19, and has been approached to play for the USA. If he chooses the USA he could make it to Germany later this year; if he opts for Italy he will have to wait for South Africa 2010. Discussing this indoors, Jimmy reckoned that if he has any sense he will wait for Italy. But I came out with the statement that over the course of his career - which could extend to the 2018, or even 2022, World Cup - I think he will stand more chance of a World Cup medal with USA than Italy.

It was ace this afternoon to beat Liverpool. It's always feel better to beat Liverpool than it does to beat anybody else. Especially in such dramatic circumstances, with Rio Ferdinand rising like a salmon to head the ball in.

I suspect Giuseppe Rossi might shift a few more duvet covers than Rio Ferdinand. I'm not sure that it feels quite right to have a minor crush-let on someone half my age..

The Whale

After a day of frantic struggles, the London whale dies a lonely death

Poignant

The day a whale sailed through the middle of London; and the people of the city, rather than trying to hack it to death, came in their thousands and lifted it and tried their hardest to sail it back.

Annie has it Flickr'd and Mecca has it blogged

Cynical bastard

Oaten resigns over rent boy claim

Don't get me started on the stupidity of a man who not only runs the risk of exposing his family to scandal, being an obscure backbench MP, but then decides to grab his fifteen minutes through standing for the albeit inconsequential post of perpetual runner-up to the runner up (hint, if you're going to screw around, don't pursue publicity...)

But the manipulative cynic decides to make his statement just as the Nation's Whale is dying. That's like doing it on Diana's Death Day.

And all the Suckers voted Lib Dem because of their Honesty and Integrity.

I'm not sniggering. Not really. Not hardly at all. Okay, I am...

Further comment

Happy Birthday, Plácido!

Sixty five today!

   

 

photos stolen from all over the internet - copyright holders, if you object, please email, and of course I'll remove the pictures...

Whale in the Thames

Concern grows for stranded whale

I expect that if I ha been in work today, I would probably have wandered down to the river to see what all the fuss is about.

Strange though, that one arm of the BBC (Online) is asking people to send in their photos, whilst, on another arm (News 24), they have wildlife experts appealing for people to stay away, especially now it's dark, and people will be using flash.

I think it's about time that the various news outlets have a serious think about asking people for their photos and footage of unfolding news. I think we are going to have more and more examples of people risking their own lives or those of others (including mammals), or hampering the efforts of the emergency or rescue services just for fifteen seconds of fame. I can see the news value of the footage from below ground on July 7th. But what really is the value of a grainy photo taken with a crappy phone-cam when it is relatively easy for a professional photographer to take a decent photograph?

Update: DG has a Tourist Guide For Whales

Air Rage

When we - finally - boarded the plane in Goa we entered a version of reality. I calculated that it was my eleventh flight in a year, so the procedures were very familiar to me. The cabin crew were going round checking the overhead lockers, the uprightnedness of seats, the fastenedness of seatbelts. The doors had been shut; we had not yet been told our departure was delayed for ten minutes whilst awaiting the arrival of two inbound planes. The captain had apologised for the existing delay, explaining that it was caused by a passenger on the inbound flight requiring medical attention, followed by a request that anyone unfit to fly should make themselves known.

A chap stood up. I immediately clocked that he was rather the worse for drugs. I was not sure whether he needed the loo or whether he was wanting to get his anti-DVT exercises in early. Suffice to say he had to be told three times, in increasingly stern tones from the trolley-dolly, to 'sit down sir'. Once should be enough, especially prior to take off.

He spent the early hours of the flight in seeming perpetual motion, up and down more often than a...yoyo. Bit of a nuisance, I judged, and forgot about him. Eventually, food was served. There was an issue about this, the issue being that it was four hours into a flight, a flight that took off six hours after we had left our hotels, breakfast-less. Also, there was some question about whether there were sufficient vegetarian meals - I was sat next to one of a party of eight vegetarians (two couples and their four children) and behind a group of four veggies. But certainly the thirteen of us got ours.

Dinner was nearly over when Weird Druggie Guy decided to walk down our aisle and engage in conversation with one of the party in front of us. I don't know what was said, but Weird Druggie Guy was being patently passive-aggressive and the quiet unassuming chap (early twenties, travelling with - I assume - mother and two brothers) appeared to be doing the right thing in engaging him in non-confrontational conversation with conciliatory open body language. Not quite sure what happened, but Weird Druggie Guy swiped the meal tray off the young Asian man - albeit was nearly finished and walked off aggressively. Immediately one of the cabin crew was beside the Asian man, saying all the appropriate things, including "If you want, we'll take your details."

Dinner over, it was time for my loo call and anti-DVT exercises. It was an Airbus A330 with downstairs loos. In the vestibule to the loos was a woman looking like death warmed up, being gently quizzed by two cabin crew "Are you taking any medication for it?"

Back to my seat, to read, perchance to dream. Suddenly, I realize it's all kicked off. I later found out that Weird Druggie Guy had assaulted another of the Asian brothers and had been brought to the ground by one of the veggie dads sitting behind. Next thing I know, Weird Druggie Guy is marched through the curtain to the front of the plane held in arm-locks by Trolley Dolly and Veggie Dad. Slight muttering "So he gets to travel in business class..?."

A bit later he's marched back again in handcuffs by Trolley Dolly. So Veggie Dad remarks loudlishly to all and sundry "We'll probably have to make an emergency landing". I look at my map on the screen in front of me, and equally loudly, again to all and sundry announce "Baghdad". Everyone glances at the map and a nervous titter goes round our section of the cabin. I explain to Veggie Dad #2 that I had had a dream a few nights previously that our return journey involved an emergency landing at Baghdad (true...).

A bit later, I return again to the loo. Outside, Mrs Death Warmed-Up is lying in a foetal position pale as a shroud, attended by a cabin crew. No sign of Weird Druggie Man. Later, in Gatwick South, my smoking friend tells me: she's a nervous flyer at the best of times, and she spent half the flight aware that the prisoner was sitting next to an openable door, albeit in handcuffs.

Someone comes back from and says (oh how rumours start!) that the pilot would have landed but it was choice between Baghdad and Tehran, so he decided to carry on. She was hoping it would be Bahrain because Lancome make-up is really cheap in Bahrain. Someone else wanted Cairo because they wanted to see the Pyramids.

Eventually, afternoon is served, with fulsome apologies from the stewardess that they were two cabin crew down. To which the only reply is "Don't apologise: we know what's happening..." After afternoon tea, the captain announces that the toilets were closing and there would be no at-seat service for twenty minutes because the staff had not had a "break due to unforeseen circumstances..." Veggie Dad suggested "You lazy gets" - our stewardess had the wickedest sense of humour and had spent much of the flight teasing those she instinctively judged could take it.

Finally, we land at Gatwick. I was fully expecting a "we've run out of ladders" announcement; it usually happens to me at Gatwick - indeed coming back from Dublin in March it actually took longer to locate a set of stairs than it did to fly the journey. But no, it seemed that the stairs were ready and primed for our arrival.

The captain's dulcet tones came over the PA. "Ladies and gentlemen, unfortunately we will have to hold you here for sometime because we are awaiting an official response to onboard events..." There was a collective, but muted groan. Of course, we all wanted to be off, but we wanted Weird Druggie Guy dealt with appropriately. Although Veggie Dad said, Unless he and the people in front pressed charges, the guy would walk free and be free to board another plane the next day.

Word had gone round that he was travelling with his wife and baby. Unbelievable. If I was wife, I would be filing for divorce immediately. What an irresponsible toss-pot! I think it's unforgivable to get into such a state that you assault people, especially on an aeroplane, where there are great concerns about endangering the lives of others. But to do so when travelling with a babe-in-arms is despicable. I suppose Wife was left to deal with luggage for 2+1 and screaming baby. Lovely...

One of the Sussex Constabulary's finest, complete with official police baseball cap (Surrey are due to get hoodies soon) boarded the plane and marched purposefully towards the back. And to a massive sigh of relief, the captain announce we were free to go. As we left the plane, I noticed a further four police officers - and, remember, at airports they're armed. I overheard a conversational snippet between cabin crew and police saying "We have the details of the victims..."

Our bags were among the first off, and we beat a speedy retreat to the relative sanity of Costa Coffee in Arrivals (one of my favourite places on earth, would you believe...!). We were joined by fellow passengers and I try to eavesdrop on what happened to Weird Druggie Guy but I could only make out that 'something' had happened - presumably arrest and removal - and his 'wife had to..." My eavesdropping is good, but not perfect...

Meanwhile, in today's BBC News: Air rage grounds 200 passengers:

A British airliner which had to make a forced landing in Florida when a passenger allegedly became violent and abusive has landed back in the UK. The Thomson fly plane from Cancun in Mexico to Manchester was diverted to Sanford Airport in Orlando following the disturbance on board.

Which only strengthens my belief that we too might well have been diverted if the options were other than Iraq and Iran.

nothing compares to sinead

I have had this album for so very long. So long that I actually have it on vinyl - and a TDK AR60 cassette. I simply don't think I play it enough. It is jolly good, and has most definitely stood the test of time. I'm not embarrassed to say that buying it was a direct consequence of 'nothing compares to u' being number one in the singles' charts, back in the days when the Singles Chart mattered, and being number one mattered greatly. But I was already a Sinead fan.

There is no weak track on this album; every single track is really very good. Yet, perhaps, even though some are haunting, some are profound, not one really leaps out as being a contender for the Top Hundred pop songs that I might compile in two years time...And yet, this very great album is much greater than the sum of its not inconsiderable parts. I see it's available as a CD for £6.99 on Amazon. Ii expect I probably paid at least this for the vinyl version back in 1990. You kids just don't know what it was like back in the dreadful days of Thatcherism. Okay, I admit it, 'black boys on mopeds; is brilliant! (says Political Gert!)

There is no doubt that Sinéad O'Connor is a genius.  A flawed genius, but you only have to listen to this album to realise the amount of rubbish that gets passed off as something worthwhile and profound these days.