Gertsamtkunstwerk

To Do Lists

I would love to know how to manage To Do Lists.

I'm actually not bad at work. I've tried all sorts of different methods and have come back to the list. Most specifically, keeping a bound book where a list of things that need doing this week can be crossed through and carried forward. Coupled with Outlook Reminders for 'Chase up in two weeks time', this tends to work well. Every phone call made, even if only to leave a message can be marked as an achievement.

I have never worked out how to manage non work stuff.

For example, at the moment I have a to do list that says 'get dressed, check to see if anything needs recording off telly, gather stuff together for going out'.

I have another one that says 'Write Christmas Cards'. Oh...

A list of people to contact when I have the time and energy and believe it won't impinge on them.

A few things to do on Tuesday morning: contact mortgage company, contact GP's surgery (about CICA claim). Also, fill in tax form...it's a five minute job, just do it.

There's stuff that needs doing round the house but isn't urgent. Conversations to be had with Jimmy and decisions made. Books to read.

And so on. I just wish there was something that worked for me that managed to combine the 'must do at earliest opportunity' tasks with the medium term projects, the chores with the pleasure, that can be crossed off as urgent tasks are completed but retained for the wish list. I've tried using categorised to do lists on my Palm, but that doesn't work.

I have considered the nice notebook approach, lightweight and always with me, scheduling an hour for 'Weekly Review'. That seems attractive but it requires something which for me is a great failing...a disciplined approach and not losing interest.

It used to be a lot easier when I was a busy person. Things just got done, because not doing them was misery.

Elektra

Couple before a performance of Elektra. She: "I don't think I know this one, do I dear?" He: "Remember that splendid Viennese night we went to - it's the same composer, Strauss."

Well, no, it isn't, it's not exactly full of cheerful waltzes and polkas. The accompanying booklet that comes with this explains that at the time of writing Richard Strauss and Hugo Hofmenstahl were heavily influenced by the newly fashionable Freud. I don't know a great deal about psychology etc and if I did I doubt I would be much of a Freudian. Nevertheless, I sort of like the idea of an opera influenced by psychoanalysis or whatever, one which is as much about the characters' inner turmoil etc. More specifically it is based upon Greek Mythology, an don the Jungian/Freudian ridiculous notion of the Electra complex. I was going to stick in a link to the Wikipedia on the Electra complex but it's dreadful. There is the Wiki-caveat of disputed neutrality. It is a misogynist diatribe but I'm so ignorant I don't know whether that because Freud/Jung's original theory was misogynist bunk or whether some pygmy with an agenda has decided to parody it in a way that almost as comical as it is insulting.
 So let's move swiftly on to the opera. I am yet to get Richard Strauss. I feel I ought to, because there are some beautiful tunes* surrounded by some fascinating orchestration. In some ways, someone who likes Wagner ought to like Strauss, but, as I say I have not (yet) grasped Strauss in the warm and all embracing embrace that I have with Wagner.

As far as I can tell the performances are of high quality, with Eva Marton being a tour de force in what is obviously a taxing role. Good dramatic singing.

I suppose it's the difference between 'accessibility' and 'non-accessibility'. Wagner is so instantly accessible, whereas Strauss isn't. I feel a bit guilty, like I ought to, but with an opera CD/video/DVD database containing 174 items and growing, I am not sure I really want to spend a great deal of time examining this inside out. I played this a week or so ago, and I am playing it again this evening, Boxing Day, which is sheer lunacy, but I want to move on, rather than getting into my very own Elektra Complex**.

It's a good DVD, in that it's an imaginative staging, and is well-filmed etc. Some excellent personenregie and compelling performances. It's very dark, persistently and unremittingly dark, recorded at Wiener Staatsoper in 1989. I just don't feel enough about these characters to really care, and I am wishing it over, although at less than two hours it's hardly an ordeal. the Royal Opera House is planning to put on a whole load of Strauss later this decade, and I guess this would be the time to spend time really exploring his works.

I feel all wrong writing this, because I'm basically dismissing an acknowledged great work by a great composer. I've done it before in my "Aida's crap" post, not to mention my "Bohème's crap" post. Any half intelligent person will accuse me of great impertinence and arrogance in presuming to have any meaningful thoughts on an opera I barely know, and further impertinence and arrogance in publishing them on the internet, but what the hell, my blog my rules. In time, having reached die Zauberflote, I shall return to A, and introduce previously omitted operas, and revise already blogged ones, and in this way I shall grow in my knowledge and understanding. Maybe this isn't about any specific opera in particular, but about the corpus

So I wrote all that, and suddenly it started drawing me in, more than midway through, at about the time Orestes returns home. but then, I lose interest again. I know, I know, I ought to try. I'm too much of an instant gratification girl, the more effort you put in, the more you get out of it etc etc, but I have to be motivated to put the effort in. I keep hearing reminders of the Ring and I am tempted to have an all night (and all day) vigil of the Ring, confident that its sixteen hours will pass more quickly than the remaining fifteen minutes of this. Still, we've had an extended Mad Scene, and two murders and a death-by-extended-mad-scene.

* the Presentation of the Rose can lull one into thinking Der Rosenkavalier is full of tunes.
** of gagging for L'elisir d'amore but being denied by alphabetical constraints.

Happy Christmas

I want to take this opportunity to wish all my readers peace and joy at this time of year. I appreciate that not everybody celebrates Christmas but I am sure everyone wants peace and joy.

First Emperor on YouTube

Yesterday Deirdre kindly emailed me some links to some First Emperor clips on YouTube. Thank you very much Deirdre!

Because I received them in between post-Christmas-lunch drinking session and pre-opera-nap bath I did a hurried copy and paste into my comments. Monitoring my blog management information I see that significantly fewer people are clicking over than would have done if I hadn't buried them in the comments.

Clip 1 and Clip 2 are from the Met Opera's Press Conference. That's about an hour in total, but as Julia notes, Plácido arrives at 15:15 of Clip 2, in costume and looking splendid and spectacular.

Clip 3 is from a Dress Rehearsal. Includes the Yin-Yang Master, some drumming, with sound a lot less impressive than on the webcast - it must sound damned impressive in the house.

Clip 4 is from Act 1 Scene 1and emphasises the really static nature of the production,which is a shame - if you're going to write an opera for a singer who loves to hurl himself round stage, you might as well let him do so...

Clip 5 has more of the percussion I really liked (although the bassoonist appears not to have...) and then has a scene...I'm not sure whether it's after the seduction in Act 1 or after the singing lesson in Act 2, in either case, it's when the Emperor interrupts the Princess and the composer.

First Emperor Reviews

The Mainstream Media Reviews are beginning to trickle in.

An entertaining read: Domingo Sings World Premiere of `First Emperor' at the Met - although perhaps the phrase "Even in his 60s, the tenor is still a handsome showboat and soprano magnet" isn't strictly necessary...!

He could have dressed as an elf and just sung ``Jingle Bells'' at the Metropolitan Opera last night and made everyone happy. Instead, always the over-achiever, the tenor waded through a strenuous new piece, ``The First Emperor,'' by composer Tan Dun, that started around 8 p.m. and ended 3 1/2 hours later with one intermission...

 

Tan Dun's 'First Emperor' has world premiere at the Met

The singing, with Domingo leading a strong cast a month before his 66th birthday, couldn't have been better. For Domingo, who has now mastered an extraordinary 124 roles*, it was the first time he had sung a world premiere at the Met in his 38 years with the company. His tireless tenor depicted the power of Emperor Qin Shi Huang, a task made easier because his part generally was in the brawnier, lower range.

First Emperor striking, but not quite successful

I expect that I shall update this post once or twice; updates will be clearly labelled in bold.

Update: Tan Dun mixes an East-West 'Emperor': Even with Domingo, Ha Jin and Zhang Yimou, what begins gloriously doesn't always thrill.

Update update: East meets West in ambitious 'First Emperor'

Tan Dun's 'First Emperor' big on style, short on substance

The Familiar Kingdom Of 'The First Emperor'

A Majestic Imperial Chinese Saga Has Its Premiere at the Met

with photos:

And give credit to Mr. Domingo, who at nearly 66 is still ambitious, still taking chances and challenging himself. He mostly sang with stamina and burnished power. True, his best friend onstage often seemed to be the experienced prompter, Donna Racik, invisible to the audience but quite often the focus of Mr. Domingo’s attention. And though the role was written for him, he could not disguise the effort involved in singing it. Despite his trouble with top notes in recent years, Mr. Domingo’s voice sounded freshest when the lines took him into his still clarion upper range. The man takes on too much. But what a major artist!

(but no characteristic Tony Tommasini adjectives...)

* I demand a recount...

First Emperor - My Thoughts

It was good fun to stay up last night and listen to the webcast live from New York. I say stay up, the staying up was preceded by a three hour opera nap, nearly an hour of that spent dozing in the bath. I set my alarm wrong - for 12.30 rather than 00.30, so it was a good thing I woke up.

Would I have stayed up if I had had to be in work today? Yes, for Plácido, but I'm not going to make a habit of listening to these live webcasts.

I joined in the chatroom hosted by La Cieca. I think probably about fifty or so other people did so for at least part of the evening. I don't know the extent to which my opinion was subconsciously influenced by that of other people listening as I listened. Or of the reviews I have read since. I think I probably liked it more than anyone else in the chatroom.

Obviously, listening to an opera is only part of the story. The point about opera is that is a staged dramatic medium, otherwise it is oratorio. So I don't think one can draw conclusions from an audio-only experience.

First of all, I thought that Plácido sounded good; in the second act he sounded very good indeed. And I was certainly not alone in thinking that. I think that I would prefer to hear him sounding that good in something else. Something better.

So what do I think of the First Emperor?

Cards on the line - I liked it, but not as an opera. The stuff I really liked would have made a fabulous and exciting piece of orchestral music. An orchestral suite from "The First Emperor" would be a very special evening out. The vocal lines did not do it for me at all. I think all the singers sounded good, but that was in spite of the writing rather than because of it. I didn't feel any great concern about the storyline, not could I really care about the characters. In the end, it was this supposedly horrible horrible tyrant, who didn't sound particularly horrible, wanting a national anthem. Through the twists and turns of plots, the denouement is that the composer bases the national anthem on the slave song sung by the slaves building the Great Wall. Well, all I can think is, so many tunes come originally from 'folk' music, and I can't see how adapting a slave tune especially counts as revenge on the Evil Emperor. Unfortunately, the anthem was nothing special. Okay, it was exponentially better than God Save the Queen but just because I was the first person to mention Va pensiero, as in it's not, does not make that my own special insight. The point is that Va pensiero is such a moving and rousing tune, literally a show-stopper, that one is forced to think: all this fuss for something that just isn't up to much.

I think the composer was the most interesting character but only because he fucked the Princess so hard she miraculously regained the use of her crippled legs, then later, he cut his own tongue out, which doesn't happen in your average everyday opera.

So, the music.

I have mixed feelings. I really liked the use of percussion and could listen to it again just for the percussion. A special percussion version of the orchestral suite would find itself a prominent place in my collection. And in general, I did enjoy the orchestral textures and the rich harmonies. There was a bit of a game of 'spot the reference' . The Sharks/Jets derivations were very obvious. I could swear I heard Tara's Theme from Gone With the Wind, and also something very like the storm that opens Die Walküre. But any hint of a melody, or a coherent musical line being developed was cruelly stopped. As I say, I liked the music. Not loved it, but liked it. There seems to be some disagreement about whether it's atonal, and I'm not sure I really know what atonal is, but it was certainly well within my comfort zone.

So, will I go to it at the cinema? First of all, as someone has pointed out, the Picturehouse website is only currently advertising The Magic Flute, so we can't be sure it will be shown. Because it's Plácido, I'm determined to make my way to Notting Hill to see it. If he wasn't in it, I wouldn't travel, but I would consider it if shown in Brixton or Clapham.

And it certainly isn't the worst opera I've heard this year...

Some blogs on the First Emperor

They're not exactly blown away:

Lord of Heaven! How long is this opera? Longer than a hundred wars.

A Message From a Nightingale

9.30

and from rmo, Richard calls his report My Last Emperor

First Emperor Photojournal

Photo Journal: Tan Dun's The First Emperor at the Metropolitan Opera

First Emperor

Someone's reported Live from Lincoln Center on the Dress Rehearsal of Tan Dun's First Emperor. (This is an account that wasn't run through a spell checker, but it's worth a read)

There are arias and ensembles, and the stellar cast acquitted itself well. In the title role, Plácido Domingo was little short of miraculous, for a man approaching 70*.  His presence was regal and electrifying, and his voice in a role that does not  lie very high, sounded full of bloom and color. He put across his monologues powerfully.

La Cieca will be hosting a live chat for the webcast. This webcast will be from the Met Opera site 8pm New York time on Thursday evening, or 1 am GMT Friday. I'm intending to stay up, because I finish work at 12.30 until after the New Year. However, the afternoon will involve my team Christmas lunch, so who knows...

Total Recorder is a handy little bit of software for recording off t'internet.

Update: Can't decide whether I like this picture or not.

* approaching 66, I'd say...

Rant

I'm sitting here with the BBC News on, only half concentrating.

Apparently, the British public is demonstrating short attention span and are pandering to the 'Instant Gratification' culture.

And how do we know that? Because apparently we are no longer doing our Christmas shopping in October, but trying to 'cram it into less than a month...'

Apparently, that's a bad thing.

Well, I'll be jiggered...

Future appearances, including role 125...

Iphigenie en Tauride seemingly confirmed

NEW YORK - Gluck's "Iphigenie en Tauride" will be co-produced by the Metropolitan Opera and the Seattle Opera in the first collaboration between the companies, one that will feature Placido Domingo in the New York run.

Stephen Wadsworth will direct, and the production will open in Seattle on Oct. 13, the companies planned to announce Monday. It will open at the Met on Nov. 26, and star Domingo as Oreste, Susan Graham as Iphigenie, Paul Groves as Pylade, and William Shimell as Thoas. Louis Langree will conduct in his Met debut.

I don't know Iphigenie en Tauride, although I have a DVD on the pile-yet-to-be-watched, but I do like Gluck. Sorely tempted to travel for that - although only if the multiple solutions to my financial problems arrive in time...

Also of interest is a free concert in Santiago. And even more interesting is the line

Domingo will be making his fourth visit to Chile. During his first trip in 1967, the singer ended up prompting at the Municipal Theater, when the original prompter was suddenly taken ill.

I didn't know he had appeared as an opera prompter as well as singer, conductor, organist, gong ringer, supernumerary, and administrator.

Language

I am becoming increasingly conscious of the inappropriate choice of vocabulary I employ on this blog.

This blog started out nearly five years ago as a 'private diary'. I published on the www, because I could, not really believing that people will read it. And now I get a readership of 600-800 per day, from all over the world.

Although this is not always apparent, I possess a very sophisticated grasp of English. I know precisely how to write reports for work, or articles and speeches for political persuasion. I grasp instinctively and can analyse precisely the subtle nuances of vocabulary choice and sentence structure. I regard this blog as a place for informal, colloquial English. Sometimes I swear, using words I would never dream of using in the workplace or in formal communication. I tend to assume that my readers will accept the swearing in the context.

However, I know that I have many readers who are not native English speakers, and many English speakers who are more sensitive to swearing etc than I am. To the former, I want to emphasise very strongly that the English I use here is not always a good example of how to write or talk, and I want to explain to the more sensitive readers that I am not really potty mouthed all of the time and to apologise for any offence caused.

Sometimes I construct sentences that appear horribly convoluted on re-reading. I find it quite difficult to proof-read immediately after writing; 24 hours later, errors leap out of me. Sometimes I want to express how I feel without being constrained by the rules of grammar and syntax. Sometimes I construct new words just for the sake of doing so.

There are certain words I over-use such as twat, tosser, wanker, bitch, which are not friendly words at all and I would never use in a formal meeting at work. I shouldn't use them in informal conversation at work and with family members (and my mother tells me off).

In my opinion, words such as 'bloody' and 'crap' are acceptable - I have seen 'crap' used in a job application for an extremely senior post by the successful applicant. 'Bloody good' is absolutely not swearing. However, neither would be used in newspapers or by the BBC except as direct quotes or in a discussion such as this (or 'bloody massacre').

I occasionally use 'fuck' which is a horrible word, except in the heights of sexual passion, and should never be used by anybody who has any doubt about its appropriateness in any given context. Even where offence is not intended, it can be taken as offensive by people who are not generally sensitive. I (think I) only ever use the word 'cunt' in its correct Anglo-Saxon meaning of genitalia, and I want to reclaim the word as a description of something beautiful. It should never be used as a term of abuse, and never in any conversation unless you are absolutely certain of the reaction of the person you converse with.

Now I'm puzzled...

English-language version of interview with Alexandra Coman, with reference to a concert in Mexico.

I was thinking of blogging it, and saying sarcastically "So, Alexandra, what's it like to be next to Plácido on stage...?" is not the question I would ask. Then I thought, I know nothing of a concert last week in Mexico, so it's probably old news.

Then I found the original, longer, Romanian version. Although Romanian is not one of my languages*, I have enough Latin to work out that the phrase "Cum iti explici scandalul cu Roberto Alagna, recent huiduit de public la Scala din Milano?" puts this interview very squarely in this week. And she says something about making her debut in Luisa Fernanda

Alexandra's website is here but needs updating.

* that makes it sound as though I have languages above-and-beyond English and gobbledegook...

Group dynamics

I think the need to form a gang or group must be an instinctive part of human nature and proof of our close relationship with pack animals. Cod-sociologists refer to the forming of gangs at school, highlighting the in-crowd/out-crowd mentality.

In my life experience the best-formed group happened in Reception Class aged 5, when there was a natural gravitation towards one girl, Donna. Everyone knew how to measure popularity/glamour by the degree of closeness to Donna. Interestingly, Donna was a natural leader, someone with charisma and an absence of bitchiness. Somehow collectively and individually we were able to make that instinctive judgement at age 5.

Subsequently I have always been aware of gang groupings. In-crowds and not in-crowds. I have always tended actively avoid being in the ‘in-crowd’. Don’t ask me why, personality flaw or a desire to be with soul mates. As I have got older I have observed more and more the insecurity aspect of group forming. To an extent it’s natural. We all have our insecurities, and we are, by nature, social pack animals.

If the group centres round a natural leader it is a success, because the natural leader, the “Donna” will never deliberately exclude people. But when the group is formed around someone who masks her insecurity with a domineering manipulative manner, it is doomed to failure. A school cohort is relatively stable, spending 7 or even 14 years progressing together, with few movements in or out. Adult life is fluid or even dynamic, with rapid change of personnel.

The newbie might initially gravitate towards the dominant self-appointed pack leader in order to feel included but as they settle and put their feet under the table, they grow disillusioned with the petulant demands of the one that reached out, and feel a growing need to create distance. They initially see this as betrayal that causes feeling of guilt. Soon, they realise that the out-crowd are out by choice and the in-crowd are deluded in assuming their superiority. Only the very few individuals with genuine leadership can keep together a group formed by convenience.

I reckon, anyway.

Carmen Stage Door

After attending the wonderful performance of Carmen, Faye and I were on SOSSLED duty at the Stage Door. There was a fair handful of people there. Not a large group and not a crowd, but more than allowed us for monopolise the attention of our stars. We don't like to detain them long if they are a bit shy, or seem to be in a hurry, or whatever, but they all graciously posed for photos, which is always appreciated. We took time to complement them on and thank them for their peformance. Photos in the order in which they emerged.

Norah Ansellem

Ildebrando D’Arcangelo

Anna Caterina Antonacci

 

Tony Pappano

Last out was Jonas, who did linger. I got the impression he was in a hurry: one of the minor roles was anxious to go and eat, so I checked whether he was in a hurry, and he reassured me he wasn't. We chatted for a short while,  photos were taken (I took one of Faye with him, but I'd better check first before I publish it), and I hope I impressed upon him how much I had enjoyed the performance. He presented each of us with a signed photo, saying that he had two left, and we should have them. Very nice!

Jonas Kaufmann

I always appreciate it so much when singers and conductors take the time to be greeted by fans afterwards. they're under no obligation to do so, and often tired and hungry after the perfomance.  I know some enjoy extending the adrenaline rush and love the adulation, but I don't think that goes for the majority.It was soon clear, for example, that Ildebrando was struggling to understand English, and the lovely Tony our wonderful conductor always looks a bit bemusedwhen greeted by fans 'rabbit caught in the headlights' as Faye put it.  I do think it's very brave of them, because they never know quite who'll be waiting on any given evening, and they surely know that every house has its nutter quotient.

I would say that the majority of singers etc I have met are approachable, personable, pleasant.  Most of them seem to be pretty much down to earth, tending to leave their glamorous side for stage and for photo shoots. It's a nice end to an enjoyable evening.

We also met another star, Louis the horse, but I didn't take a photo, in case flash was a bad move. Big horse. Beautiful.

Carmen at the Royal Opera House

That's where I was Monday. I attended the Dress Rehearsal and reviewed the production, so I won't do so again, except to add a few things I missed.

• As well as Pollyann the Donkey and Louis the horse, there were also chickens.
• In Act 3 the smugglers abseiled down the orange wall into the gypsy camp
• I missed a bit of furniture abuse - when the Lieutenant (Matthew Rose) has finished kneeing Don José (Jonas Kaufmann) repeatedly in the balls he sends him flying across the stage, knocking over a couple of chairs in the process
• Matthew Rose does the most convincing impression I have ever seen of a Middle England bloke prematurely Middle Aged getting a bit lathered up (but not chavvily leathered) on a package holiday to the Costas and dancing in a naff awkward manner

I still think the stage is a bit busy at times, sometimes you're attention is caught between two competing bits of action: eg, do you watch Lieutenant being striped to his combis, or do you watch Carmen and Don José getting seriously down with it at the other end of the stage.

Okay, the opera. Everybody who is reading this either knows it intimately or else is familiar with very many tunes from compilation CDs, adverts and ringtones. It's easy to think of it as a selection of catchy tunes, but I refuse to do that. The orchestration is the work of a genius. I forget where I read it but Wagner is reported as saying after he heard it, "At last, someone who understands." And if you don't listen to what is going on in the orchestra, you're missing a lot. It's not just about mood music: the sexiness of the Seguidilla and the gypsy song, or the lyricism of the Act III entr'acte, but also about the leitmotifs. Particularly noticeable when the Torreador theme is reprised, but I also like the premonition of doom at the end of Act III.

Orchestra good without being great. Some dodgy notes from the brass in the Prelude; also can't remember where, don't really care the odd bit that didn't sound quite right. The Hobbit kept things moving at a spanking pace and mainly brought some delightful sounds out of the band.

The singers. Micaela isn't a part I like and I was a bit underwhelmed by Norah Ansellem, which is a shame, because I have enjoyed her in the much meatier role of Violetta both live, and on TV from Madrid (2005). Otherwise I thought the singers were all wonderful. The smaller parts were all at least as good as they had to be, with Matthew Rose and Elena Xanthoudakis being particularly memorable, their stars definitely in the ascendancy.

The three stars were incandescent. Overall, they all had their moments of being rough around the edges - I think it's a role debut for all of them - but I would argue that it's immaterial that they were, because that was part of totally committed all-round excellent performances. It is conceivable that any one of Anna Caterina Antonacci, Jonas Kaufmann, and Ildebrando D’Arcangelo would take the stand-and-deliver option: (except in the case of Ildebrando where, in fairness,  sitting atop a horse gives one very little option!). The interplay between them was of the highest order, thoroughly naturalistic, never any sense of being aware that they were acting. All completely at ease in their bodies and their roles, and singing beautifully to boot. On the strength of this I wouldn't hesitate to go back to hear either of Anna Caterina or Ildebrando.

As I have already intimated, both by Twitter and by this, I have fallen totally under the spell of Jonas, who is now the deserving owner of the title "Gert's Favourite Tenor (Under-65 division)", which is in no way meant to put down the lovely Rolando, Marcelo and Juan Diego.

Honest, it's his voice first and foremost. A rich tenor with a baritonal edge,very much heading for the dramatic roles - he's got Florestan and Parsifal in his rep (Gert shivers with anticipation, especially at the thought of the latter). Not a great 'high note' tenor, but as someone once said, "The high note is not the only thing." In addition it's his stage presence, his instinctive acting ability, the way he moves, gets into the character. The fact that he is easy on the eye is no bad thing either! I first saw him in La Rondine and again in L'incoronazione di Poppea. He's cancelled live on me twice (although on one occasion it was mutual) and he's also cancelled on me on the TV. Thirteen months seems a long time to wait to see him again. I'm seeing Carmen again with the B cast and I'm completely skint,  but I am tempted to see if I can get a return.

His La fleur que tu m'avais jetée was exquisite. Such feeling, such a beautiful voice, so rich and caressing the notes, and finishing on a delightful pianissimo. I wrote a few months ago that I am not overly keen on that aria. Let's just say I am now...!

Overall, a really enjoyable experience, full of life and passion. It would be so brilliant if it was shown on TV or put out on DVD, neither of which are likely, unfortunately. But it will be on the radio, including the internets,  on Boxing Day.

There are lots of photos on ArenaPal, which is quite difficult to navigate, but follow this link and ignore the ones from Spice Drum Beat: Ghoema by David Kramer at the Tricycle, unless, of course, that interests you!

And here are a couple I took...

Jonas Kaufmann

Curtain call with Act 4 (Bull Ring) Scenery

The Suffolk Strangler

I feel uneasy writing that piece of tabloidese, but I suppose it's slightly preferable to the Ipswich Ripper.

I'm just about old enough to remember the Yorkshire Ripper. He was arrested when I was thirteen.I can remember exactly what I was doing when that news came on the TV. My opinions were youthful and uninformed, hand-me-downs from the media. The Yorkshire Ripper targeted prostitutes and women he believed were. All five victims in Suffolk were sex workers.

I feel uneasy entering the debate about language. Is it right that the media are so firmly referring to them as prostitutes? Is it better the way that the police refer to adult women as 'girls', stripping them of dignity even in death?

As it happens, I think it's important that the message does stress that the women murdered were prostitutes. The words used are another issue. There are a lot of derogatory slang euphemisms and, at least, they are not being used. The police have to keep hammering the message out that sex workers are not safe in that area. It is clear that many women in Ipswich who are not sex workers also feel vulnerable. I know I would if it was round here. I have lived in or near 'red light' areas for fifteen years. That in itself does not make me feel vulnerable. In that time I have been cruised no more than twice, which is not nice, but I feel more threatened by potential robbers on a weekly basis.

When the Yorkshire Ripper was at large and later during the trial I had a very fixed view of prostitutes. Although I didn't articulate it I think I had an assumption that they were different, certainly not the sort of people that nice girls from a nice town in Cheshire would mix with. I wondered how anybody could live with the shame of being one, or being related to one. But knew that they could because they were 'different' from the sort of people I knew.

Times have moved on and I've grown up. It was a bit of a shock to learn that someone I knew had been at teacher training college with the wife of the Yorkshire Ripper and had socialised with him on numerous occasions. Three degrees of separation.

And I also know that very many women from all sorts of backgrounds are on the game. Thinking exclusively of 'street-level' prostitutes I have seen the changes in this area. Back in the old days in Streatham, it was women in their twenties or thirties, often commuting from Wolverhampton, who chose to sell sex in order to earn a living to support their children. It was business, and I admired that while simultaneously being grateful that, becaus eof qualifications etc, I would never end up in that situation.

Nowadays many of those who operate round here are from 'good', stable backgrounds, with 'respectable' parents. The main impetus is drugs. Very few are from stereotypical broken homes, childhood 'in care', history of abuse. A lot more started using drugs socially and spiralled into a pit of desperation. I can't condemn them: if they were men they would be robbing and burgling, and I think that a 'business transaction' between consenting adults is morally preferable to robbery and burglary. Because they are drug-dependent, because they have vicious 'boyfriends' (pimps and dealers) they are far more vulnerable than I am. I know that when I am coming home of a night to take sensible measures to minimise risk. I usually take a longer route home because I perceive it to be safer. I remove my earphones before I get off the bus and I conceal my jewellery. If I am in heels (ha!) I get a cab.

They do not have the luxury of that choice. They go where the punters take them - often up my drive, but that's another story. They go off the beaten track, away from the street-lights and the CCTV, and the passers by and the traffic.

And, when it boils down to it, each of those women murdered in Suffolk was a human being. Somebody's daughter, somebody's sister, maybe somebody's mother. There may be people who condemn what they do for a living (but say silent about the punters without whom there would be no prostitution). But literally screwing for a living is no worse than those who figuratively screw the public. If they were 'normal' women murdered on the way home from the office party we would be in national mourning by now. The media are being relatively sensitive but I still sense an underlying unspoken feeling of 'they were asking for it'.

What's the betting the murderer turns out to be a brainwashed extremist religious freak. I bet he's not a bogus asylum seeker. And I am absolutely certain he isn't a woman.

Interview with Plácido

PlaybillArts: Features: The Conversation: Plácido Domingo

Don José and me

Jonas Kaufmann kindly posing for a photo with the Brixton Village Idiot

It makes me look as if I'm smitten...post-performance I sidled up to him and said apropos of the Carmen I had just thoroughly enjoyed, "That was...steaming...!"  He clearly got my drift!

Please understand, if I fall for a singer, it's voice first, interpretation second, acting third, stage presence fourth, personality fifth, and then only looks/sex appeal.

He confirmed he would be back at Covent Garden for Traviata in January 2008. when he said "with Anna Netrebko" everyone went 'ooooh'!

Just found this feature on him: This sexy singer is sticking to opera  Jonas Kaufmann: why he won't be jumping on the crossover wagon

A plague of booing

Well, Jose Cura was booed for his Don Carlo in Wien on Friday, and in extraordinary breaking news from Milano, Roberto Alagna threw a total hissy fit and refused to return after he got hissed and booed for his Celeste Aida.

ALAGNA OUT OF AIDA. He's all like: C U L8R LAM3RZ!!

So, in one week, there's been booing in New York, Wien and Milano. If any such unrowdiness happens in sedate London tomorrow, rest assured I shall text to Twitter at the first opportunity.

And an update:

Apparently the paparazzi have responded to Alagna's withdrawl from Aida in full-commando mode, and are currently stalking the tenor outside of his super-luxury Milan hotel, patiently waiting to pounce on the delinquent tenor once he leaves his room to get ice from the vending machine. (just kidding...we don't really "do" ice-vending machines in Italy) ;p Anyway, I'm sure we'll have some entertaining "official statements" by tomorrow...

And from Giorgia, complete with an artist's impression of how it may have happened.

Update: Giorgia has kindly emailed an English translation of Signor Lasagne's hissy fit...

Tories still barking mad

Bring back Victorian values, says key Tory | Politics | The Observer

In fairness, the Tories have moved on a smidgen and are beginning to recognise that having large numbers of the population living in poverty is not good for society or the economy. Well, duh, one is tempted to say.

So, their solution: bring back Victorian values.

Hmm, I would say, first get facts straight.

My housemate did her Social Administration dissertation on something to do with poverty in single parent families. One of her stunning pieces of research that there were far more single parent families in Victorian times than in the 1980s. As this was an undergraduate dissertation I am certain this was not an original discovery. Any casual perusal of history, literature etc will reveal many flaws in the Victorian method of bringing children up.

Again they bang on about tax-breaks for married couples. No,no, and again no. This is a dangerous assumption that all married couples have dependent children and that all longterm stable couples with dependent children are married. The focus should not be on the adult relationship but on the children (and also importantly other dependent adults such as those with learning disabilities and the elderly infirm). I am the opposite of an expert on the loopholes and traps of the unintended consequences of the tax-and-benefit system.

The report backs tax breaks for married couples, arguing the present tax credits system makes some couples better off apart.

I find this difficult to believe. I will accept that the take-home pay of two people living separately is higher than if they were together, but I need a great deal of persuading that this is so distorted that it makes sense for a happy couple to incur the costs of maintaining two separate households simply for the tax-benefit advantages. Otherwise, thousands of happy couples would be maintaining two households next door to each other, which to my knowledge just isn't happening.

They have confused chicken with egg or cause with effect. They argue that more co-habiting than married parents split. I have no doubt that this is true. But. And it's a big but. Even nowadays, a great number of people still go through the routine of deciding to get married and then deciding to start a family, having already built a relationship with a fair chance of enduring...hey, I only need to look at my blogroll.

A great many more people find themselves with an unplanned pregnancy, before their relationship has established itself as 'together forever' and, accepting their responsibilities, try to establish a sustainable relationship, where carrying out a wedding ceremony takes a lower priority than the pregnancy or founding a home together. If they split, it's not because they weren't married, but because they were ultimately not suited. They would have split, or lived unhappily together forever, if they had been forced or tax-break-bribed into a marriage.

But can anybody justify a tax system that would make Jimmy and me better off simply by dint of strolling down to Lambeth Town Hall, dragging two random strangers in from the bus stop to act as witnesses, and calling ourselves married? Would that tax break be equally ludicrously applied to Mike and K? If not, is that because they are same-sex? Where would that leave same-sex coupled parents - exempted on the grounds that one is not the 'biological parent'. Would there be similar exemptions for numerous committed straight step-parents - eg from the blogroll Elle and Himself. It's bonkers and bears no relationship to actual real functioning families that exist in reality today, but to an outdated religious-inspired ideal that many people may aspire to but few achieve.

They also talk about tackling poverty. The easy way to do that is by throwing cash money at the problem. And it does make a difference. People still claim that they lose money if they go out to work rather than claim benefits (rent/housing benefit is the big obstacle). I am not entirely convinced, but if this is the case, there is a need for a relook at the system, and it is a persuasive argument for continuing to raise the minimum wage, ensuring that the working tax credit is fair, simple and accessible, and guaranteeing that housing benefit tapers properly not to act as a disincentive.

But poverty is also tackled as society. This article also discusses anti-social behaviour and petty crime, of which poor people are disproportionately the victims. Much of this is blamed, rightly and wrongly, on 'disaffected youth'. I was at a lecture the other week hosted by my Professional Institute about 'Respect', where the Government's Respect Co-ordinator argued persuasively that aggressive intervention in the poor or non-existent parenting skills of a hardcore tiny minority would be as big a social achievement for our generation as building sewers was for the Victorians.

There is a body of evidence that proves consistently that seemingly expensive programmes, from intensive reading to sports and arts, that force children and young people to participate as full members of society reap dividends in a range of social objectives, including economic activity, tackling poverty and anomie, crime prevention, and health improvement that benefit wider society perhaps more than even the targeted individuals.

Tinkering with the tax system may make some households who are comfortable but struggling marginally better off, probably at the expense of people like me. I would willingly pay higher taxes to fund properly social integration and anti-poverty programmes. If I had a straight choice between paying 'x' more a month in tax or 'x' more in interest rates, it's a no-brainer. And - here's the political bit - under a Labour Government I have paid a lot less in mortgage interest and a bit more in tax. Long may this continue.

Juan Diego Florez

A thoroughly enjoyable evening. What a gorgeous singer!

He came on the stage looking a bit nervous and started by addressing the audience explaining that he had cancelled a concert in New York last week, but he couldn't let us down; however he wasn't feeling 100%, so he was changing the programme slightly, and would have a cup of tea on a table next to him.

And he started to sing - all arias and songs were accompanied by Vincenzo Scalera on piano (who played all the right notes). Programme below the fold.

Oh boy, did he sing! If he hadn't warned us about his cold, or if I hadn't already known about the cancelled New York concert, I wonder whether I would have noticed. I did notice a few examples where the sound was less than perfectly shaped and filled; in the Rossini L'Esule it was particularly noticeable. But for the main part, it was like "he sings like this with a cold; what's he like without?"

He has a very different voice and sings very different repertory from the type of tenors I usually favour. If you don't know his voice it is difficult to describe relative to a Verdi/Puccini tenor, and quite quite different from an "English tenor". Sometimes you can kid yourself into thinking 'this isn't a particularly masculine sound' but that's silly, it most definitely is - he is a tenore di grazia. Most of the interesting and thrilling vocal colour is towards the top of the range. There is a very distinctive sound towards the top, especially when he's pushing the volume. It's not to everybody's taste but I love it, mainly. There were one or two occasions where it sounded a bit squeaky or shrill.

But it's not just about high notes, indeed I am not a high note freak*. What is just as thrilling is the flexibility and agility in negotiating brilliant runs of very rapid notes, with trills etc in florid passages. Apparently, no one ever comes away from an opera or concert lamenting that they missed the tenor's low notes, but I would definitely say - perhaps exacerbated by the cold - his low notes are not great...

However, it is hardly fair to dwell on notes here and there, when the overall performance was excellent. He is assisted by exceptional good looks, which no photo does justice to. He is lithe and moves well. He is not an exuberant performer and is tempting to think of him as a bit cold, but he is very expressive in subtle ways. A very naturalistic style of acting: the occasional hand gesture, or flicker of expression across the face, more expression with his body.  Giving the impression that he's feeling rather than thinking the emotions and their physical response.

I was not over-familiar with the programme, and to my surprise I greatly enjoyed the Rossini. I am not over fond of Rossini, a couple of arias and overtures apart (admittedly I have not much made effort to familiarise myself with him) but I did love the execution of these songs and suspect I shall end up buying the Rossini Arias CD I have been avoiding because it's Rossini.

I thought the Mozart was fine, if nothing special. I was not sure about the Il mio tesoro. I've become a bit obsessed about this aria. I like it to be sung with balls, even though most tenors prefer to reflect the wimpish character in their singing. This wasn't ballsy but nor was it wimpish.

I thought the Latino pop songs were nice and delightfully sung, but they left me  a little indifferent. Before the encore, the highlight was the Donizetti Linda, si ritirò, which was just gorgeous, and brought the concert to an end on a high, and the audience into enthusiastic applause. I'm afraid Faye and I were screaming a bit like fan girls. We were sat on the front row of the block with nothing really between us and the stage and his passage to back stage. As we screamed at him he twice gave us an amused-bemused glance. She had come down after the interval to sit in the spare seat next to me after unfortunately finding herself next to the Notorious Soap-Dodger for the second week running.

After a uncertainty-causing delay he came back and said he would sing Una furtiva lagrima. He sang it gorgeously. The pianist struck up a few notes and a buzz went round the audience. Ooh I said, he's singing my song! His one concession to the heavier Verdi rep La donna è mobile. And he sang that gorgeously too, hanging onto that final note for seemingly ever, bringing the audience to its feet in a roar of approval. Then he disappeared,  perhaps not to return. Some audience members were getting ready to leave - and he came back. He gave the impression of not really being sure what to sing, and there was considerable muttering in the centre block. Someone called out "Ah mes amis...?" Casually he dismissed this,saying he'd be singing it at Covent Garden. He conferred with his pianist, they flicked through some music. He turned back to the audience and said "Okay, I'll do the end of Ah mes amis..." to great cheers. So he  played the closing phrase on the piano. Ha, ha very funny. But he obliged and finished off in style with the final section of Ah mes amis from La fille du regiment. This is a very special aria because it contains the legendary nine High Cs which most tenors don't even attempt outside their shower. One of those ultimate tests. And it is fabulous to hear, even for non-high-note-freaks such as me. Cue more adulatory screaming!

Afterwards, he did the obligatory signing session. Just as I had texted off to Twitter that all my friends had disappeared, I spotted Caro and we queued together. It was a fleeting encounter, reinforcing my belief that he is a shy and private person. I suspect that it was a bit of an ordeal for him, but much appreciated by fans such as myself.

Before the concert started there were a couple of amusing announcements, the first being  "Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and girls, Fairy BowBells is on her way," then a few minutes later, I missed but was informed that there was a request not to take photos because it scares the animals and fairies. Dick Whittington was playing in panto in the Barbican Theatre...

* no surprise there...

I invented a new word

It's quite simple to do.

What you do is you spend the best part of a week with disturbed sleep - however tired you are, you can't switch off brain. Add in an angle grinder going from 8-4 for five days, a Sloane Ranger baying into her phone under your bedroom window at 2 am Saturday, a necessity to get up for gasman Friday and Saturday mornings 8 am (not just up, but dressed, and bathroom tidy), plus three Howling Banshees and their Grunting Boyfriends audible in my bedroom (they weren't shagging, this is what passes as conversation next door) at 1.30 Sunday morning. Follow by a night wearing earplugs, and a wake up to a dull ache in right ear.

Put fingers on keyboard and the word that emerges is "ipentfgelsea"

Pls to use as you feel appropriate.

It's all about me

follow Gert at http://twitter.com

via Hg

9/12/06: 14:50 Update: I'm bumping this to top post, because I'm going out in a couple of hours and I intend to provide a running commentary on my life between now and midnight-ish.

Domingo, the unstoppable

Lengthy article in the Los Angeles Times, accompanied by seven good quality photos. It seems almost too fulsome in praise, and yet, not hyperbolic.

I love this phrase

Asked if he has any special vocal regimen, he says, slightly abashed, that he hopes to make this a New Year's resolution.

but best line of all comes from Rolando:

It's a fantastic instrument. But somebody else with the same instrument would have done nothing. It's what he's done with his heart and his brain: They gave the right person a fantastic Stradivarius.

Now I'm really annoyed with the Guardian

Arts blog - music: Hurrah for those who booed the tenor*

I'm hardly a neutral bystander, but that is just appalling 'journalism'. They sit there on their fat overpaid arses googling the world wide web, expressing opinions. Imagine getting paid for writing:

Sadly, I wasn't at the Met on Tuesday, but it sounds as if...

That isn't journalism, that's sheer conjecture and hearsay. Seems like this idiot - name of Guy Dammann - isn't even competent at Googling.

I know you might think I'm over-reacting, but this is the same standard of journalism that is supposed to hold the Government and Big Business to account. And fail miserably. We, the public, rely on proper journalists to find out, check facts and present a full and balanced picture. Day after day there are examples of utter lunacy in the Press written by tossers who presumably got their job based on who they know rather than what their abilities are. Unless their niche talent is sitting in front of a computer screen and pontificating. In which case this stupid little man is less competent than hundreds of thousands of bloggers. Imagine if he had to work for a living. Twat.

To leave a comment at The Guardian blog requires registration, but it's free and painless, and they're not spammers.

Why oh why did I get rid of my 'Rants' category?

* can't even get the headline right - they booed the conductor

Marilyn Monroe

The next "Wild Woman" listed on my t-shirt.

From the Seven Year Itch. I think all women have adopted this pose at one time or other...

I assume that everybody has heard of her. Is that a reasonable assumption. I have this sense that intelligent educated people have a corpus of knowledge and in the 'popular culture' subsection, everyone should know of Marilyn Monroe.

Disturbed childhood, successful film star, sexy, iconic,

She married three times, two of her husbands died just last year.

She was just 36 when she died, long before I was born. Was it an overdose of barbiturates or did one of the Kennedys murder her?

I shan't write any more. Come on, you know everything you need to know about her, and it's not like there's a shortage of information on the web. She even has her own website

Happy Birthday Mr President

Wild Woman? I don't think so. Unhappy and abused, definitely. It seems that the person who designed my t-shirt is more interested in victims, whereas I want my Wild Women to be strong, independent sorts who broke barriers.

I'm doing a series of blogposts based upon a much-loved t-shirt

Queen of Spades at Covent Garden

By Tchaikovsky.

I've left it far too late to give a fresh review of this.

Nice music. Decent cast. Crap production.

I saw it twice in November.

It's one of those operas that I sort of know but not very well. It's a great story, libretto by Modest Tchaikovsky, based on a Pushkin novel

tragic obsession to follow the burgeoning romance between a Russian officer and a young woman of higher class, through to his insanity and their suicides. As the drama slips increasingly towards desperation and despair, the score depicts the shifting moods through such contrasts as Prince Yeletsky's beautiful declaration of love to Liza and the haunted encounter between the mysterious Countess and Gherman, who blindly pursues her supernatural - and fatal - secret of the 'three cards'

To be honest, a great deal of parts with very little to do. Or is it just that the production does its best to minimise their importance. It was a pretty mediocre production. I didn't like the sets at all: the right side of the stage was a double-decker row of theatre boxes leaning backwards, and the back and the left of the stage was like windows, doors and so on. All in off-white. There wasn't much else of the set before the interval; whilst we were intervalling, they brought in a dirty big piece of polystyrene to look like a mountain of snow. It was rubbish, and they had split Act 2 in half to bring on the ski-slope. I thought the costumes were pretty awful. I suppose Ghermann's was okay for the character, and Prince Yeletsky's was gorgeous, but the rest were dire. And the personenregie was really not very good. Although Ghermann did a lot of pacing around being broody and depressed.

I suppose when you think of Tchaikovsky, you tend to think of those nice ballet pieces like Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty and Nutcracker, or maybe the 1812 overture. So if that's what you think this is about, you're in for a bit of a surprise. That having been said, the prelude to the Third Act is rather reminiscent of 1812. And then there is the first scene of Act II, which is a long - overlong - ball at Prince Yeletzky's house, where Tchaikovsky throws in some music deliberately reminiscent of Mozart. And then there is a ridiculous pastorale which in all honesty ought to be cut, even though it did produce some good performances. It just did nothing for the dramaturgy.

A lot of the music coming from the orchestra is really powerful stuff. I don't think the orchestra was on particularly good form on either evening I was there. Someone there on another night said that it is about time that the ROH sorted out new principal cello and horn. I could put up with the cello but I agree the horn has to go. And in general, I was thinking that it's nice music, rather than nicely played.

The story is engrossing and compelling. A psychological examination of how one character falls apart because of his obsession in knowing the secret of the three cards. The countess holds the secret. she's told her husband and her her lover, and the third man to whom she tells the secret, who is driven by love, will be the cause of her death. Cut a long story short - here's the synopsis - there is no secret. It's random, and he stakes his entire fortune on the three cards - troika, semyorka, tuz. These gradually take over as an idée fixe from tri karti.

There are a few good arias in this, although only one that really stands out as an aria Ja vas lyublyu, or the Prince's aria, which is what makes this relatively lesser role actually a star role. On my first attendance I was not overly impressed with my lovely Gerald; on the second hearing, even though I still think it lies a bit too high in his range, he did sound lovely. I did ask him why he was doing this role; he protested it was a lovely role. I pointed out that it's not really a star part, and he said you can't be a star all the time. Sorry, Gerald, I love you to pieces and I want you to be the star all the time...

But it is so overwhelmingly a Tenor's opera and Vladimir Galouzine was stupendous. A strange voice. Robin Leggate commented that he is one of the three loudest singers he has heard in thirty years at Covent Garden. To be honest, I think he only does loud. Not a great deal of beauty in the voice, plenty of steel. And stamina. He moved well on stage, elegantly, sparingly, depressingly. And looked good, too.

This doesn't seem like a particularly positive review, but I did enjoy it. Tchaik was just a bit of a genius.

Obligatory Grumpy Christmas Blogpost

In which I try to fathom out the true meaning of Christmas.

The religious freaks are at it again, telling us to remember the Real Meaning of Christmas. I think they think it's about commemorating the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem. And, that aspect has a certain attraction to it. Christmas Carols. I love them. Not unreservedly of course. Ideally when played with full orchestra or alternatively a pumping brass band. Preferably sung by people who can sing. My personal and perennial favourites are Hark the Herald Angels Sing and It Came Upon that Midnight Clear (the Sullivan tune, words, thankfully not by Gilbert). Lots of brass. Harmonies, music.

But I don't think Christmas Carols are really what the Christians mean. The words of It came upon must rest uneasily on the hearts and shoulders of many.

And this Christian Christmas spirit is just bah humbug to me, having been delivered of the news that my devoutly Christian neighbour might be having building work done to her house over the Christmas break, just at the time when Jimmy and I are looking forward to peace and rest from the ever-noisy building works that were supposed to have finished in September but will seemingly go on ad infinitum.

The Christians who sanctimonious lecture us on TV are either ignorant or deliberately untruthful, because they always fail to mention Saturnalia and other Pagan Festivals that pre-dated Christianity by millennia, celebrating the natural rhythms of the earth, and were hijacked by Christians scared of the fact that ordinary people enjoyed an opportunity to eat, drink, dance and shag. How can we take such people seriously.

The Christians' objection to how 'we' celebrate Christmas is to the grotesque commercialism of it, and in this I happen to agree with them. Christmas excess is a great favourite of Bloggers: from the first signs in August, to spotting the first domestic decorations, to hilarious sightingss of chav OTT blink-bling decorations.

I don't know any adult who actually looks forward to Christmas (there may be rule-proving exceptions...!), except that it represents an opportunity for a few 'free' days off work and the chance to cocoon. More and more people are 'escaping' to the sun, perhaps as much a natural reaction to dark and cold as it to Christmas itself. Which reminds of that pagan festival of lights! Now we moan that the cost of holidays over Christmas and New Year is so exorbitant compared to, say, mid-January.

I live in an area where there are many poor people and even more who are hardly well off. Many of Jimmy's customers fall into the latter category. He despairs as he listens to the expense that some will be going to over Christmas. And I despair. I do not know how people with children cope. It would be so easy for me to sit here and pontificate about "Do this", "Don't do this", but there are so many pressures coming from so many sources.

It is easy to get lulled into thinking that certain things are 'expected.' I've been there. One year I swallowed all the guff about Christmas Parties this and Christmas Parties that, and the need to have a new outfit. At the time my self-esteem was not very high. In fact I had loads of parties to attend, two from work, about four in the local Labour Party, plus less formal get-togethers of friends. I enjoyed them all, because of the informal nature and the good company. And it's nice to dress up, but I would have looked a total prat wearing the sort of dress the magazines and shop displays told me were the season's 'must haves'.

A million people piled onto pedestrianised Oxford Street last Saturday, to which I can only say why? One year, the Saturday before Christmas I found myself on deserted streets in Central London, avoiding the main Oxford Street/Regent Street axis, with time and space to think. Back-streets such as Haymarket and Trafalgar Square. Last year I did the bulk of my shopping in an eerily empty Peter Jones in Sloane Square.

I want to declare a complete moratorium on Christmas (neplings excepted) but I'm scared that that makes me look a killjoy, or worse, selfish. I am dreading going through the routine of yet again writing Christmas cards to people. Relatives aside, out of my old friends, only David and Rachel responded to my news that I have been ill. I go through a whole guilt trip about not making enough effort to contact people. But, really, who contacts me (except Ria, to whom I really owe a long call and a visit. I know that other friends have also been ill or are caught up in their hectic lives, often with babies (I suspect in some cases I have been declared a non-person for not having bred according to their expectations). But I have slowly concluded that it isn't my sole responsibility to maintain relationships that are dead.

Perhaps I have a problem in that I don't like being told what to do. I have an allergy to certain occasions such as Valentine's Day or Hallowe'en because they have no personal resonance for me. Christmas is more complex, because I do have an ideal of a perfect Christmas. It's New Year I dread more, with even more forced jollity. It is difficult to break out of. Part of my problem is I hate shopping as a lifestyle choice. I can tolerate if it leads to the acquisition of 'necessary' or desired goods. But I can't abide trailing round shops looking for yet more to add to the list of tat to give to people who don't really want it but feel obliged to give me tat in return.

I'm conscious this is in danger of turning into a smug "I'm better than the common masses" post, because I have seen through the hype. I am a lot happier now than when I felt pressured to conform to commercial expectations. But I feel hypocritical, because instead of spending money on tat, designer clothes, and magazine-inspired interiors, I blow it all on going out (operas and restaurants), holidays and on electronic gadgets and DVDs. So that doesn't make me better, just different and, I believe, more discerning. I suppose I would love to be able to convince everybody else that they shouldn't feel obliged to run up punitive debts and put immense strain on their relationships and their mental health. I want to be able to convince parents that their kids will love them, not for the expensive presents they buy, but for the loving attention they give (or in the case of teenagers,being allowed to skulk ignored in their rooms). But no one's going to listen to me, because I'm just the Grumpy Cow who wants to ruin everyone else's fun and profit...

Housemartins

I love the Housemartins, in the sense that I can think of precisely two songs by them, only one of which is in my record collection in any form at all, and that is Caravan of Love on a TDK 'taped-off-the-radio' twenty years ago practically to the day.

Their other song that I adore I only need to carry in my head, but nevertheless it's great to find it on YouTube, in a wonderful clip filmed in, of all places, Farnworth. Obviously a much cherished tape that somebody's played a million times before uploading onto YT. Still sounds fabulous, however flat it is...

Although I have only been nightclubbing about five times in my life (and hated each time), I did a lot of discos in my first couple of terms at University and no disco was complete without Happy Hour. Or Don't Leave Me This Way, Walk This Way and In the Mood. Nottingham University, at the cutting edge of Indy. Not.