Norman Lebrect on the beginning of Pavarotti's five years (ten years?) overdue retirement and the Debora Voight little-black-dress saga.
My view on Pavarotti? I think at his peak he had a beautiful sweet clear light voice, but he should have retired years ago. I remember hearing him in Hyde Park (too many umbrellas to see the big screen, let alone the stage...).
It was strange day, actually. I had lunch with Richard, whom I had had a crush on for about eighteen months, and Charlie, with whom I had had this wonderful flirtatious relationship for about a year (and he taught me how to do cryptic crosswords). I happened to mention that I was going to Pavarotti in the Park, and Charlie said that he was more of a Carreras fan, whilst I said I was really a Domingo fan, and we spent some time discussing the relative merits of our favourites. Richard said he had seen the Rolling Stones in Hyde Park, and I thought 'twunt' and the crush ended there and then.
I realised it was raining, and had to borrow one of the section's Barbour jackets (handy that I was on Agriculture section - one of the few that had communal barbour jackets). I met up with R, with whom I had been at school, and her boyfriend of two or three years, G, and my old uni friend, L.
R and G had a massive row - something about him realising he was gay. L, whose nickname at Uni was Mad L, or L in the sky with diamonds, expressed deep disapproval of R's tantrumy sulk (or was it a sulky tantrum), and later told me that R was mad, which I thought was a bit rich (you know, pots and kettles, glass houses and stones). And then I remembered that L wasn't actually a friend, but a friend-of-a-friend with whom I happened to share a house in third year. We still exchange Christmas cards. A couple of years back she suggested we meet up 'for coffee'.
But when Pavarotti sang "E lucevan le stelle' and, somehow the rain stopped, and the umbrellas came down, it was a magical moment.
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