Gertsamtkunstwerk

Like watching Barnsley...

I had been looking forward to the Brazil-Croatia match all day, in fact I nearly danced the Samba in the office.

Bit dismal, wasn't it.

Plácido in Copenhagen

(Note: link updated)
Those of you who don't read the 'recent comments' list will not have spotted a really rather fabulous video-clip that the wonderful Raffe has found. It's 14 minutes long, and features a couple of scenes of Pláci in the recent Die Walküre in Denmark, and an extended excerpt from a Press Conference.

Raffe's comment is here.

The clip can be viewed by scrolling down the page to where it says Se: Stjerneglimt: Placido Domingo i Danmark Update:: The url has changed; so has this link!

Meanwhile, we found out ages ago, but now I can read and understand it properly: Domingo Withdraws From Munich Parsifal

Now, if only I could find a way to save it to hard-drive...

TV Ads

As you may well know, I don't watch TV ads. But I'm currently glued to the TV watching the World Cup live (d'you think anyone would notice if I didn't turn up for work for the duration?).

There's this advert for T-Mobile. This woman has a newspaper headline on her mobile saying "Robbie Williams sighted in hotel", and she goes into his hotel.

I just want to say. I think that's disgraceful behaviour for a fan. Going to a star's hotel. Sets a bad example to the young. I'm thinking of complaining to the Advertising Standards Authority.

Whereabouts...

On Thursday I shall be at Manon Lescaut - wonderful opera, indifferent reviews - at Holland Park and on Tuesday at ROH's new Tosca - thoughts on the Dress Rehearsal

Yes, yes, the sharp-eyed all well-memoried among you will grasp that these two events make the watching of Engerland problematic. Sigh

I'm skiving off Karita Mattila tonight at the Barbican but if anyone wants to collect a free ticket from Brixton Hill, just let me know. I'm not feeling wonderful and I have a challenging week ahead.

Fedora at Holland Park

Which is where I was on Thursday evening, a beautiful night for a spot of' country house' opera in Inner London. Indeed, as I sat on the bus going along Bayswater Road I rather regretted that I had not walked; when I worked at Kensington Town Hall I occasionally walked through the parks to Hyde Park Corner on barmy summer evenings. I also regretted that walking from Hyde Park Corner to Holland Park would probably wipe me out for the week nowadays.

Fedora is most definitely a second-rate opera, which is not to say it is without merit. The music is pleasant throughout, the story is linear and moves along swiftly with plenty of opportunity for emotion. The production was traditional and simple. I suspect if it were an opera I knew well I would be a bit frustrated at the simplicity. And for blogging purposes, it's difficult to say anything insightful about a simple, traditional production.

It is written by Umberto Giordano, who also wrote Andrea Chenier, and in my view it isn't as strong, and certainly not as heart-stirringly emotive as Chenier. Synopsis and background. A tragic love story. Her fiancé is murdered; she befriends the murderer to seek revenge; he says he murdered fiancé because fiancé was cheating with his wife; they fall in love; she finds out that his brother has been executed as a result of her letter to the authorities; she takes poison and dies.

The orchestra - the City of London Sinfonia, under Brad Cohen, sounded perfectly fine to me. Obviously, a company like Holland Park is not going to get the stellar cast of the ROH or even ENO, but there is no shortage of good singers around.

Fedora was played by Yvonne Kenny. Unlike a certain blogger who is travelling all the way from New Zealand especially, I wouldn't call myself an Yvonne Kenny fan. On the downside I have to quote a seat-neighbour "coming to the end of her career"and "sings well in mezzo". On th epositive side, she gave a convincing and committed portrayal, and an intelligent musical interpretation. Overall she was good.

There was a strong cast in depth, notably Stephen Gadd (De Siriex), Catrin Johnsson (Dmitri) and Grant Doyle (Ciriilo) - two pleasing performances from Grant Doyle in the space of nine days speaks volumes to me.

However, and lets save the best for last. Forget all of the above. I'm not sure if there are any tickets left for remaining performances, but if there were and I wasn't totally skint, I'd be in the queue just to hear the tenor again.

Aldo di Toro. Remember that name, note it down. What a voice! I have heard some bloody good tenors so far this year - Calleja, Villazon, Domingo. To that list I have to add Di Toro. Mike had posted on rmo that he was a 'real find' and quoted the Standard's review that he was 'astonishing'.

For accuracy's sake I would argue that perhaps he requires a little more polish to be the entire finished article. But to be candid, with a voice like that, who cares about polish! What a voice! I have a 'thing' about tenors, which doesn't mean that I like all tenors. Far from it. But I would describe Aldo di toro as sweet, ardent, lyrical, musical, a ringing tone, squillo, and that certain 'something' indescribable which hits my T-spot. The guy can act, and while I wouldn't call him drop-dead gorgeous he's easy on the eye. I'm just purring at the thought of roles I would love to see him in. And hear him! All those wonderful Verdi/Puccini lyrico-spinto roles. Drool Drool! Some details here (scroll down) - he's Australian.

An opera is about more than arias, but, let's be honest, the most famous part of this opera is Amor ti vieta, which has been a showpiece for all the great tenors since Caruso. And tonight it was delivered with pasion and ardour

The Times

says a muscular, personable and entirely Italianate tenor in Aldo Di Toro... From the minute when Loris declares his love for the widow of the man he murdered, Di Toro is indefatigable.

Fabulous said the Guardian.

The Stage "his strong tone consistently impresses".

Bloomberg He has a firm, rounded and passionate sound, and brings all the lyric possibilities of the part to the fore.

Aldo Di Toro has a wonderfully natural, open sound throughout the range - a name to watch. says the Independent.

...a promising Australian tenor with the splendidly Italianate name of Aldo di Toro cut an elegant figure and sang with a firm line and sweet tone: I hope we hear more of him.

says The Telegraph. Great opening line, BTW, "BAD operas don't come much better than Fedora."

And MusicOMH

Bloody neighbours

Why are people so thick?

Not sufficient with having building noise five and a half days a week, we have the O'Bumpkins next door, breezed in on the last RyanAir flight, playing bloody country and western music, wouldya believe it, in the garden on a Sunday afternoon.

Bloody short-term tenants, here today and gone tomorrow, no investment in the area, no sense that this a very densely populated area. And now that the bloody tenants at the back have departed with their paraffin-fuelled barbecues of rancid meat, no one else sits in their back garden imposing their tastes on others.

Both houses rented by avaricious capitalists determined to make a fast buck at everyone else's expense; sod the people who live in the area year in year out and give their time and energy to making it a nice place to live

Eng-er-land

One own goal, one relieved England

It was the perfect match yesterday. An early goal, and despite Paraguay dominance I never quite got to the 'oh my god we might lose it' stage. A wake up call to people who think England are invincible despite many of them (me included) not having much or any experience of seeing the top teams play even on telly. Not too much euphoria, so perhaps restraint on the alcohol front. Although, inevitably, a few arseholes had to spoil it for everyone else in Canary Wharf and Liverpool. Trouble with watching on a big screen - other people.

Euan Ferguson says it so much better: One own goal, one relieved England

Thanks to Trinidad & Tobago, predicted for three straight losses, for drawing with Sweden.

Makes everything very simple now. England's fate is in their own hands. A victory over T&T and a draw with Sweden. If we can't manage that, we have no right to be on course to meet Brazil in the semi. Let's be honest, we have the easiest group. Today is the "Group of Revolution" - Mexico/Iran and Angola/Portugal. Can't wait til Tuesday: Brazil - Croatia

Argentina v Cote d'Ivoire was an entertaining match. Makes me feel the World Cup has begun.

Is it just me or is the camera work shit? I would have thought that a technically advanced nation might be able to televise a football match in 2006. And don't mention those shadows in Gelsenkirchen.

The FIFA rankings for May are:

1. Brazil
2. Czech Republic
3. The Netherlands
4. Mexico
5. USA
6. Spain
7. Portugal
8. France
9. Argentina
10. England

Although, let's be honest, that really overstates the strength of Mexico and USA considering the quality of their opponents in CONCACAF

So far bad day

It doesn't help the day get off to a good start when the building site starts work - illegally and noisily - at quarter past seven. Especially when one has slept with one's windows open. Being that the weather forecast is for hot and sticky nights.

I emailed the Property Developers a letter on 1 June. They have not even acknowledged receipt. I have emailed again with a notification that if they do not provide a substantive response on Monday I shall take the matter further. I'm debating whether to approach the South London Press, who always appreciate pre-written stories or to go straight to the national media. Or other action...

The letter is in the extended entry.

And then I get cold-called. I'm usually cautious in answering the phone, but we are expecting calls, nd the caller-display didn't show up.

It was extremely difficult to understand what the cold-caller was saying. She was calling from France, and, I think, reading from a script that was probably phonetically written out. I demanded to know why she was calling my number, I had opted into theTelephone Preference Service, and how dare she disturb the privacy of my home. I demanded to know the name of the company and I really could not understand what she was saying. I asked her to spell it out, and she said "I don't understand you!" As I explained that I wanted a name so I could write and complain, she started to spout the script of 'thank you and goodbye and sorry to have disturbed you.' I asked her how dare she do that when she hadn't answered my question, could I speak with someone who spoke English. "Of course Madam," she said ingratiatingly and a few moments later the line went dead. As far as I could gather they are a French property company who want to invite me and my husband to an exhibition in our area.

What connects the two of course is greed and utter disregard for people's homelife. Greed, greed, greed. Of course we all want to earn a living, and money makes the world go round. Thankfully, I am a believer in karma, and I believe that all these people will get their come-uppance at some time. But some of us have values that are wider than sheer greed.

But the other thing that puzzles me is why cold-calling companies use people who have difficulty communicating with the target. It's happened before. Some company in Croydon called me and the caller had such a heavy West African accent that I had to keep asking her to repeat herself. I would hazard a guess that I am more familiar with heavy West African accents than most people. I can't see how it can be an effective sales technique to spew unintelligible stuff at a potential customer.

A part of me feels a bit guilty at being so angry at the caller this morning, she's only doing a job and so on. But ultimately, we do have to take responsibility for our jobs, however menial. Genuine call-centre staff are different. If they contact you they immediately identify which organisation they are from, often check that it's convenient to call and one suspects that they have been trained that most people do not like cold-calls but are prepared to talk to organisations with which they have an existing relationship.

Winterstürme in Munich and other YouTube clips

Raffe has kindly alerted me to

Plácido singing Winterstürme wichen dem Wonnemond from Die Walküre at Tuesday's World Cup 3 Orchestras and Stars Concert in Munich.

As a btw, does anybody know how I can go through the process of copying a DVD into a format for uploading to You Tube. Not that I should be allowed ontoYouTube. Once I start, I can't stop. So of course, I end up finding this

Pláci and Sarah Brightman singing Là ci darem le mano

Hmm, I think a couple of the comments are showing their complete ignorance of a) what this duet is about and b) what Don Giovanni is about...Ma, ma in Ispagna, son gia mille e tre!

And some tenorial rolling on the ground in Luisa Miller. Not one of his best rolls, though...

And then there's Somewhere...

Guinea pigging

This morning I went to hospital for the next stage in my conspiracy with the global pharmaceutical complex.

I underwent various tests. The researcher asked me various questions about the various symptoms I have experienced ever since I went down with this syndrome. Some obvious symptoms - tiredness, interrupted sleep, muscular aches, inability to concentrate, memory loss, numbness, dizziness, pins-and-needles - and others that I had not really thought about but I have experienced, such as abdominal pain, sweating, or ones that I did not even think as being related - eg hot flushes, indigestion (and for those who know me, hiccups didn't even crop up...!). I was asked whether I had experienced palpitations and trembling. What, me...!

I then had to complete a sort of psychometric test, although I suspect it was more of a psychiatric self-assessment. I'm not sure how I'm going to come across. Happy, content, calm, confident, not afraid of arguing but not prone to violence. They also asked about strategies with coping with pain. I ticked high on the 'have a bath', 'take medication', 'lie down', 'listen to music', 'think about nice things' and 'read' and was shocked at how many times they mentioned god as a solution - then I realised it was American. The attitudinal one was Swedish and made no mention of god. I don't think so, anyway, my Swedish isn't too good*

The doctor arrived and checked my blood pressure with a stethoscope - 100/70, which is just cool. The last time I had it checked was a few weeks ago and it was 129/85. That was either because the electronic machine was buggered because of the stress I had experienced trying to book tickets in the opening seconds of ROH Period 1 booking opening. I'm tending to the former, because I had it measured again in today's session and it was in the high 120s, and the researcher said the machine is very unreliable.

The blood sample taking was rather stressful. I absolutely don't mind needles one bit;what I do find disturbing is when I have a needle inserted into what I trust is a vein and the doctor is sitting there looking puzzled because nothing is coming out. Not that it surprises me. I really shouldn't let men come anywhere near my veins. I have never yet had a man get it right first time. So I had to offer my other arm for the sacrifice. It's funny, but I am one of the most squeamish people I know, yet I find it utterly fascinating to watch as different tubes are attached to the needle sticking into my arm and my blood flows out. And I was disappointed I blinked as he removed the needle - that ought to repulse me, but it didn't. It makes me feel much worse writing this than it did experiencing it

Next was the EEG. I had sticky tape attached to my ankles, wrists, cleavage and stomach, to which were attached wires, which were attached to a machine, which transmitted the data to Belgium.

The bad news about this trial is that I should cut back on cigarettes and alcohol - no more than 25 fags and two glasses of wine a day. I said that should be fine - unless England go to penalties...I was asked if I had a history of drug abuse. Drug abuse! Me! As I said, one drag on a joint and I'm flat on my back!

I go back next week, first for a pain test and the following day for an MRI scan.

* it was, of course, in English!

Quick quiz

Don't think too much about this one. Just a snap answer.

Who do you reckon is the most famous living German?

Sunday night concert of English music

Sharp-eyed readers might be a surprised that I have taken so long to write this up. I went to a concert last week at the Barbican. To be honest, I'm not really sure what to write about it. I arrived about three hours early but that was because I was meeting up with Faye, who was in the area but, probably wisely, didn't fancy the concert. It was a glorious hot day and we sat by the lake, although by then it had clouded over in the late afternoon. I had inadvertently caught the sun on Saturday in the back garden; I caught more on Sunday although I didn't realise until I got home exactly how red my face was. (Although it had cleared up by Monday morning.)

When we sat back the lake knocking back our drinks Faye happened to glance around and said, "There he is..."

"Who?" I asked.

"Gerald Finley," she said.

Our star for the evening was just strolling into the Lakeside Terrace. Well, I say 'our' star. My star. Faye didn't go to the concert.

And in the first half I was rather thinking I wish I hadn't. It started with Vaughan Williams Wasps Overture. I had this surreal thought that it would be much improved if they unleashed a swarm of wasps in the auditorium. Of course I immediately realised that that would be wrong on so many levels. But it was pretty dire.

Then was Elgar's Cello Concerto. There was nothing wrong with it and it is a lovely piece of music. But it has to be played really well to make it worth my while. And it was just an adequate performance.

I had only booked the concert for Vaughan Williams' Sea Symphony. No, not even that is true. I have the Sea Symphony on CD and whilst it's okay, it's never really grabbed me. So I have to be honest and say that the only reason I booked the concert was for Gerald Finley.

Well, the Sea Symphony was marvellous. London Symphony Orchestra were singing; London Symphony Chorus were zinging. Susan Gritton was splendid in what someone pointed out to me is a punishing soprano role. And Gerald Finley was everything I hoped he would be, and much much more. He makes it all seem so easy, and yet it is always such a striking reading. And I so love his voice. I really believe he is incapable of singing a wrong note or making an ugly sound.

Live, it really is a great piece of music. From where I was, practically on the floor of the Barbican, I felt surrounded by the sound of the orchestra, and the ever-wonderful LSO Chorus. And, you know, it was so evocative of the sea. But, still, I didn't feel any great urge to play the CD when I got home and I haven't done so in the intervening five days. Perhaps some pieces are just not suited to live performances.

Afterwards, the fairy godfather of SOSSLED smuggled me backstage. Without my partner-in-stalking, I felt a bit self-conscious and was a bit scared at the thought of hanging around looking like a lemon. I easily found Gerald's dressing room - which is more than can be said for him, so I showed him to it. I explained that I had been smuggled backstage and didn't want to hang around like a fan girl, because I'm not a fan girl. I thanked him for the performance and said that I didn't know the piece very well, but I enjoyed it and he sounded great. I didn't want to detain him, because he was en route to his dressing room, even though I would really love to spend some time in his company, over a drink or whatever. I said I'd see him at Figaro. Twice.

The Times carries a review

Flags

Flags are now officially cool! On this blog, anyway.

I have been from South Brixton to Denmark Hill and back, in one of the most densely diverse areas of the planet, and as well as multitudinous England flags I have spotted...

Brazil, Paraguay, Trinidad & Tobago, Ghana, Australia, Portugal, Italy , either Netherlands or Serbia and Montenegro, and something which I assumed to be an Irish flag (with attitude - Ireland ain't in the World Cup, and this is England, get over it...) but might conceivably have been Cote D'Ivoire. Pride of place must go to a Polish flag so enormous it was bigger than the car than it was flying from!

I wonder how many more I'll see over the next few weeks. Probably the least likely are Saudi Arabia or the USA.

But I stil hold the view that people who had England flags flying from their cars two months ago are just sad.

Commenting Stats Progress Report

A while ago I offered prizes...

This is still very much an ongoing thing but just out of curiosity the Top Commenters of All Time (excluding me) are:

Adrian; Scaryduck; Gordon; Lyle; Blue Witch; Karen; Vaughan; zed; Daisy; mike

And the top since I announced that are:

Faye; Raffe; Adrian; BlueWitch; Clair; Julie.

It would be wrong, very wrong, against all the ethics of blogging to offer the leader in each category a blind date with the leader in the other category. And so as not to tempt me into such evil ways, everyone else better get commenting...!

World Cup Wally

1978 (and before...) - no telly
1982 - saw quite a bit, in between 'revising' for crappy-but-school-said-they-were-important exams. England v France, I ran home from school, arriving two minutes after kick off. England had scored.
1986 - time zone bad, also the early stages fell slap bang in the middle of A-Levels...heck, I've just realised why I didn't do as well in my A-Levels as I ought to have done...
1990 - good timezone, living in misery in a bedsit in Westcliff on Sea, nothing else to do but watch the World Cup, except when I went to Nottingham, Hackney and Sale and watched the World Cup. Also, I remember there being some sort of concert the night before the Final
1994 - bad timezone, Up-to-eyeballs as newly elected Lambeth Councillor and newly qualified (and promoted) accountant. Didn't matter; England didn't qualify. The year we all supported Ireland
1998 New Lambeth New Labour. Serving my notice at work. Good timezone. Saw more than I thought was possible.
2002 Bad timezone, newly released from the council. Didn't see as much as I would have done in a good timezone. Perhaps due to poor and deteriorating TV reception. Plus we were on holiday for a week.
2006 Good timezone. Good TV reception. No council commitments. Working part-time. Roll on the World Cup...!

Oh bugger, I've gone and booked Fedora the night of one England match, and a night at Tosca completely clashes with England's final group qualifier.

Why can't I get my diary organised?

And if England win their group, they could be in a quarter final just three hours before curtain-up at Tosca, which is fine if it doesn't go to extra-time and penalties...do you think there's any chance of a Big Screen in the Floral Hall. The alternative is worse - England finishing group runners-up and yet somehow getting to the Semi-Final that will clash entirely with Figaro, my favourite opera with my favourite baritone.

I know it's chavly premature but it's only a virtual flag

There is an actual England flag somewhere in Gert Cottage but it will not be dug out until Saturday, and then only flown discretely during the match.

I have to say that I am looking forward to a Festival of Football, and of course, I'm supporting England, but I also want to see some excitement and flair from other teams...doesn't everybody have Brazil as their second favourite. I will be blogging the World Cup, of course I will.

But I have to say that even as a football fan I am mightily sick of all the hysterical hype that has been dominating the British media for the past god knows when, reaching fever pitch yesterday when David Beckham personally piloted an aeroplane and Wayne Rooney's metatarsal into Baden Baden airport. Football is a beautiful game that has inspired poets. But most of the talk, speculation, hype, chatter, blah, crap coming out of the mass media is at the end of the day trite, clichéd and vacuous.

In a way it's already started, a concert in Munich, with live webcams an' all. I grabbed a screen shot. Your guess is a good as mine....

Maybe that's the Finale mit allen Künstlern: COUNTDOWN FOR THE CHAMPIONS - "You’ll never walk alone“, Pomp and Circumstance (Edward Elgar), "We are the Champions“...

Choral at the Cathedral

It is a matter of deep regret that the Royal Festival Hall is closed for business for another year.

Hmm, thinks carefully...no regrets that I voted in favour of the planning permission for the total refurb!

So when a big choral work is planned, the Philharmonia decamps down to the grotesque Gothic Westminster Cathedral. Last Wednesday they did so with the Bach Choir, under David Hill, and soloists Carolyn Sampson, Anna Burford and Grant Doyle. The programme was not a 'must-see' for me, but I wouldn't miss Carolyn Sampson without good reason. And the Philharmonia and Bach are reliable forces.

The programme started with Wagner's Good Friday Music from Parsifal; and the body of the concert was Szymanowski's Stabat Mater and Brahms' German Requiem.

It struck me as being a bit mistimed, actually. It would have been excellent for Good Friday, not for the Wednesday between Ascension and Pentecost.

I was in an excellent seat, second row from the front. I acted irrationally and questioned why. When I arrived, the woman in the seat next to mine had her crutch propped on my seat, and I indicated politely that it was my seat, so she moved her crutch, and without any sense I suggested that she might prefer the aisle seat. After I sat third seat in, I wondered what on earth possessed me to do something so pointless. But then the soloists came out and I realised that I was sitting directly opposite Carolyn Sampson, with no one in front of me.

There was an empty seat next to me, on which I laid my programme. I realised that the man to the left of that seat was craning his neck to get a free read, so I nonchalantly gathered up my programme and held it so that he could only see the advert on the back. Upside down. Out of my extreme peripheral vision I could see him hurriedly looking away at being caught. Never underestimate my peripheral vision: it compensates for my spacial unawareness! He proceeded to spend the rest of the concert nervously sniffing.

Simon was also present and got bad acoustics and bad neighbours.

My acoustics were fine - very much enveloped-by-the-orchestra which I have found happens at many venues. Even so, I will express the caveat that my judgement may be affected by the generally appalling acoustics of the place.

The Wagner was the most insipid Wagner I have ever heard and I could only regard it as a necessary opener to allow the Latecomers (from the long toilet queue) to take their rightful seats. I hope that Wagner, especially something like Parsifal will sound grand, almost pompous. I was out of luck.

Then the Szymanowski. I have never heard it before, but I definitely want to hear it again. I really liked it. I'm writing this review five days later so I can't remember why i liked it was big, raucous and thrilling. I think it was probably quite a difficult sing for the soloists; at times I noticed that both Anna Burford and Grant Doyle were having a few strains at the extremes of the range (him at the top, her at the bottom) and at one point I caught an characteristically breathy sound in Carolyn Sampson's usually crystal clear top. But please don't let those quibbles detract from an overall good performance. I haven't heard Anna Burford before but would hear her again. Interesting voice - a wonderful rich and dark sound near the bottom that made me think she was a contralto, but then she didn't really get those really low notes, so she can't be. So, I suppose a dramatic mezzo with a curtailed range. Perhaps, what do I know. But definitely a voice that's pleasant to listen to. Grant Doyle had a pleasant sounded voice and put plenty of expression into what he was singing, although I sensed that there was not a great amount of natural colour in the voice. Still, he's young.

And Carolyn was gorgeous throughout.

After the interval was the Brahms German Requiem, which is mainly a choral piece with occasional passages for the soprano and baritone soloist. I don't possess a CD of it, but I do have various extracts on various compilation CDs. And although I enjoyed hearing it live, I can't say I'm in a hurry to rush out and buy a CD. It seemed to go on for an eternity. And although I enjoyed the performance of orchestra and chorus, I do feel I have been spoilt of late by the LSO/LSC.

New Tosca at ROH

A brand new production of Tosca opens imminenently at Covent Garden, the first in my lifetime, and it's positively brimful of stars, a couple of whom I have already spotted on Floral Street.

An interview with Marcelo Alvarez: The Bee Gee who never was - he seems quite quite mad in a very endearing way.

An interview with Bryn Terfel: The power and the glory

I wonder if La Diva will be doing interviews. Rumours are that she has decided that rehearsals are over...

I love the way the newspapers put Box office details at the bottom, just in case anybody who's an opera fan,ora Tosca fan, or a fan of any of the three stars might not be aware that it's happening and might suddenly want to get tickets...(my advice, if you want them enough, you will get them, but perseverance will help!)

Opera Holland Park

Country House Opera in Inner London. I have Fedora, Manon Lescaut, Queen of Spades and Rigoletto in my diary and ticket-folder...

The best way to satisfy the romantic snob inside us all

A feature on the 'yobs' that run OHP - An opera you can't refuse (one of whom has been known to comment on this blog)

Timperley Superstar

The Frank Sidebottom Oh Blimey Big Band

If I had known that Frank Sidebottom was going to be at the Tate last week, I would have been there.

Frank Sidebottom was very big in Timperley. Quite possibly the biggest thing ever to come out of Timperley.

Except for me, of course. I went to school in Timperley. Only Primary School, though.

I know someone who once did a VAT visit to Frank Sidebottom. That is what I call surreal.

Smut

I have been using up valuable blogging time writing more unmentionable porny-smutty fiction.

It helps if you have a passing knowledge of Wagner and cheesy Latino-Pop...