Gertsamtkunstwerk

Signing off

I'm leaving home early on Friday morning for a long weekend in Barcelona - Die Walküre on Saturday, 3rd row of the Platea. BTW, it's going to be broadcast live on radio.

I doubt I shall be posting much of substance tomorrow*. Work, packing, early night.

Saturday's weather is . Sunday's weather is . However, Friday and Monday are . So, I'm packing my pashmina and sarong, my bikini and my woolly pully, my flip-flops and my boots, my cagoule and my sun hat. I doubt it will rain, because I have it on very good authority that the Rain in Spain stays mainly in the Plain

* except for any reviews of tonight's Walküre I might encounter

Tosca photos

As I entered Covent Garden, as usual, I handed my open bag to the young woman who searches handbags. Or the 'Bag Lady' as I have been known to refer to her and her colleagues.

"Is that a camera?" she asked.

I did my butter-wouldn't-melt/sheepish look, ans she said "Absolutely no photos until the curtain call. Then it's alright." Which I knew anyway, but it's nice to get 'official' confirmation.

Come the curtain call, I had my camera all set up. I swear I changed the ISO setting to what I normally set it to but the photos came out very dark and when I next checked the camera, the ISO was on the 'auto' setting. So, I got really bad curtain call photos. and now, I can't for the life of me remember what I normally do for curtain call photos...do I normally set it to ISO 400, the highest on my camera? Someone help me out desperately - I've forgotten what has become habitual.

I did however manage to get some pictures at the Stage Door:

  Tosca- Micaela Carosi    Scarpia - Lucio Gallo

And now, I have to issue a Hunkentenor Alert:

Finally, I feel I have to issue an official statement of clarification

Last night two people mentioned to me: "I expect you're here for Jonas Kaufmann" and today a third person emailed me with "Enjoy seeing your other favourite tenor in Barcelona"

Of course I like Jonas. I am still kicking myself for missing Marcelo Alvarez in Bizet's Don José. I am full of excitement at the prospect of two performances of Don Carlos with Rolando Villazón. Not to mention Juan Diego Florez in concert. I also am partial to several baritones "even though they're not tenors". And I don't ever want to give the impression I don't enjoy female voices.

It's great to have so many really excellent singers appearing in so many different operas, and my appreciation of them is total and sincere. All that having been said, however much I may thrill at Jonas and Marcelo and Rolando and Juan Diego, and even baritones, my first and true opera love was, is and always be Plácido, and to coin a phrase, to him I am faithful in my heart.

Cavaradossi @ ROH

Really really really fantastic.

Despite not being much of a Puccini fan I am such a fan of Tosca, as it is more commonly known.

And tonight...last night...was wonderful! All of the supporting cast were up to their jobs, the Tosca and the Scarpia were more than satisfactory.

And Jonas Kaufmann just knocked my socks off as Cavaradossi.

As I went in, I was already drafting my blog post, 'Jonas Kaufmann was fabulous...' then I thought, maybe he won't be.

He came on stage and sang Recondita Armonia and I was 'this is beyond fabulous! And that was just for starters.

As I say I just love the opera. The music is so cinematic and the band were on fire tonight, too: I understand what I read in a review that Tony Pappano brings out the nuances and details, perhaps at the expense of the big picture. I loved those nuances, and I didn't notice a lack of big picture.

The Vittoria vittoria knocked me back in my seat as I writhed with the exquisite pleasure of such beauty...there was an outbreak of applause, for a two word aria (the famous second act tenor aria!). Someone did say to him afterwards he should tone it down, it was OTT, but she was soon silenced, and he was told to ignore her!

And I was very lucky to be in one of the best seats in the house, one of those restricted leg room ones on the front row of the amphi, where the acoustics are just perfect. I'm in pretty much the same seat next week and I can't wait! Just the minor matter of Walküre in Barcelona first. I'm on a tenor roll from now till mid-July. Life is beautiful.

It's not a great production, but perfectly functional.

It was one of the those nights when everything just seemed to gel.

And a big hello to people I bumped into including Caro, Janet, and Marion from the Unofficial Jonas Kaufmann site, a treasured resource.

7000 photos

I got my camera almost exactly five years ago. Yesterday I took photo 7000. When I first got the camera I had the counter set to restart, and I had taken a hundred or so before I changed that to continual. then I dropped the camera and it needed fixing, so I borrowed for our holiday in Scotland.

Photo 1000 was taken at my brother's wedding, in September 2003,  a picture of his former housemates Mark and Tim, who might not like their images being published here. The children present at that wedding were impeccably behaved.

2000 occurred in July 2004, not one of the best I took when we went to Dungeness, where all the children were well-behaved and took a real interest in the miniature steam railway.

The 3000th photo was taken at a Classic Spectacular at the Royal Albert Hall in March 2005. The child present repeated her impeccable behaviour she had previously displayed at her uncle's wedding .

4000 came in Goa, in December 2005. The problem with Goa was a group of loud drunken violent Adults, who inspired numerous complaints from the other guests and led to this loud violent group receiving numerous warnings "if you're not careful, you'll get another warning...". An afternoon in a beach shack was an excellent way to relax.

The 5000th was a picture of Bryn Terfel, at Kenwood in July 2006. The problem there was having to sit behind halfwits who alternatively talked through and sung along with the music. And the ducks that squawked while Bryn was singing!

Photo 6000 no longer resides on my computer. By context, it was taken in May 2007 while I was cooking, and presumably was dark or fuzzy, hence its deletion.

And without further ado, I bring you, photo 7000, quite possibly one of the most boring photos ever taken, of the lake at Hever Castle. Supposedly a boating lake, but no boats were out, presumably because of the wind. Drum roll, tada...

Which all goes to show, that with intervals between the 1000 markers of 3 months - 10 months - 8 months - 9 months - 7 months - 10 months - 12 months, I am definitely slacking off in my photo taking and must do better...

Hever Castle

My advice is Don't Go

If however, you have children of Infant School age who spend most of their time cooped up in a large car and you regard any open, ironically car-free space, such as formal gardens, as being the place for your children to let off excess energy, then Hever Castle is definitely the place for you.

In fairness, the gardens are quite nice, but I don't think they are worth travelling to, especially not in preference to the numerous other gardens in southern England.

But its faults are many. I had been warned that it is commercialised, but not as much as Leeds Castle. Therefore, Leeds Castle is a complete no-no for me.
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Firstly, it isn't a castle, but is a fortified manor house. Despite its historic origins, it is mainly the product of a massive 20th century refurbishment.

They make great store of it being the childhood home of Anne Boleyn, no doubt wishing to cash in on the TV series 'The Tudors' and the book/film 'The Other Boleyn Girl'. So, they laid on some entertainment for 'Henry VIII' despite the fact that neither the series nor the book mention Henry actually visiting Hever. I doubt very much that, if he had, he and Anne Boleyn would have been sitting on chairs in the open field within touching distance of mere groundlings - I am certain they would have been ensconced within lavish tents, with dozens of flunkies and servants.

It's pretty obvious that they are only interested in visitors who arrive by car. Their website says it is a country mile from Hever station, and then leaves it to us to figure out which route to take. There are at least three, one along narrow windy undulating roads with no verges where cars thunder round bends at great speed. We thought there were no signposts, but on the way back we spotted the hints of one entirely overgrown by hedgerow. Alternatively, they say you can get a taxi from Edenbridge, but leave it up in the air whether you can get one to return. We asked for a number for a cab firm at the Henry VIII pub; we were given the number of an elderly lady's house and she gave us an alternative number, which just rang and rang.

It is a another example of how people only matter in respect of their relationship to children. The person hosting the entertainment addressed the crowd as "Boys and Girls, Mums and Dads, Grandmas and Grandads." No such thing as "Ladies and gentlemen...". No doubt there is some sound marketing reason for targeting the 5-11 demograph, but I really think if you haven't got one of those in your entourage it's a waste of time going. Unless, of course, you want to observe the bad parenting of the Yummy-Mummy Brigade.

Children running through formal gardens with no respect for the elderly and infirm, or indeed for people who had thought that a visit to a country garden might be an opportunity for quiet contemplation. And,of course, I didn't once witness one of these smug complacent inadequate parents stop and say to their brat "Ooh, look, Olivia, Ben look at that pretty flower, we have that in our garden, did you know you can put that in food, it's a herb" (and yes, they were all called Olivia and Ben, or Jordan, and yes, both Olivia and Ben are names that feature in my family).

Actually, I am sure there were plenty of parents who did just that, but they were the quiet ones, who seemed to know their children, and didn't feel it necessary to draw attention to themselves, the ones who had taught their children from an early age how to behave in public. The apogee, or nadir, came in a walled garden. Three couples were on benches or the ground, half asleep and quiet. Two more couples, ourselves included, strolled around, quietly inspecting the flowers, grateful for some escape. And then arrives the family where the children were encouraged to run around chasing each other, whilst father bawled into his mobile "We're in the Secret Garden, it's really quiet..." and two Ladies of a certain age remarked disapprovingly "They're throwing coins in the pond again..."

I remember as a child in the 70s going to Visitor Attractions and, let's be honest, being a bit bored. The highlight was the few brief minutes spent in the Adventure Playground at the end, tucked away from the main event. I don't remember being encouraged, or allowed, to treat the rest of the place as an adventure playground. Now, it seems, the entire experience is designed to be one big playground for children. The majority of the visitors seemed to be without children - Twentysomething friends or lovers, older couples who might or might not have grown up children, Ladies who Lunch and Garden. And yet the day put was spoilt because it was over-run by children, the enjoyment of the majority ruined once again by the tyranny of the weekend-only parents who believe the world revolves around the children with whom they can't communicate, for lack of practice.

I don't suppose Margaret Hodge is reading this, but the other noticeable fact was that the customer base came from a very small and elite background. Almost completely white - the only BME people I spotted were in mixed-race groups. There was a representative number of Polish people and a few Americans, but clearly this attraction needs to be radically changed to make it relevant to people other than elites. I suggest that accessibility might be a start, followed by a re-examining of what the focus ought to be. Not that great a garden, a historically inaccurate historic 'experience', or a theme park, it does none well. But it has a big car park.

I took some fairly decent photos. It did amuse me that when I found something to photograph that was a bit different from the obvious, people would look at me weird, and then take the same photo. At one point, I was convinced one couple was stalking us, to take the same photo.

Not a day out

Well, we didn't go out today.

Blog inertia has set in.

I really want to wrote about the European Cup Final. And I don't know what to say! I don't have to write about it, because I will remember Wednesday night for the rest of my life.

I haven't actually written about being domestic Champions because I was so confident we were would be triumphant in Moscow I thought I would make a tandem entry.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :-):-):-):-):-):-):-):-):-):-):-):-):-)

Does that sum up my emotions?

We didn't go out because Jimmy went to the dentist. He was totally convinced he had a fifth wisdom tooth pushing through.

So the dentist sent him down to the dental hospital. It turns out he has some bone in his jaw pushing through the gum. A possible solution is cutting away the gum and cutting off the offending bit of bone. But there's a risk to that procedure, which involves a nerve, which, if accidentally damaged, would mean he would lose all sensation in his tongue. So, instead, he has to avoid chewing on that side, and gargle with salt-water.

And, anyway, the weather wasn't up to gadding around Southern England.

Between a rock and a hard place

The rock being Brixton 'ill, the hard place being deepest darkest Sussex.

The constraint being the railway network.

In my role as Gert Cottage Entertainment Manager I am aiming for third time lucky in respect of planing a day out. I planned Hever Castle, and was up half the night before and too weak on the day. I planned Chichester but Jimmy was hitting the slough of despond in the ongoing cough-cold-lurgy of Spring 2008.

I thought, the weather is set fair. A day out for Friday, I thought. I have selected a place to go where the main attraction is ten minutes walk from the railway station. An hour and half train ride form my local station (Streatham Hill). National Rail says I might have to buy two separate tickets because through tickets may not be available. I would be surpised...I have bought tickets for more remote and obscure destinations than a major Sussex cathedral city.

I checked the fare. £41.10 per adult is the cheapest return. I gulped a bit. I could go to Manchester or Leeds and back for less. Sussex is a day out, not Inter City. I investigated further. Oh, look there are all sorts of cheaper tickets, with attractive names like Mily Molly Mandy, Looby-Loo and Big Fat Rosie. Or they might as well be for all the meaning they convey.

I have read on blogs about the utter confusion of rail tickets. To be honest, it has never happened to me. Either I plan so much in advance that I get really cheap deals on Inter City, especially when I can be bit flexible. Or I make journeys whose cost are really just pocket money - Brighton and Southend are inconsequential amounts. However, uncharacteristically, I have the humility to realise that just because it hasn't happened to me doesn't mean it doesn't happen.

I understand about dynamic pricing of tickets, and how the price adjusts to reflect relative demand and propinquity, an attempt to risk manage market fluctuations and maximise income. It's a complex calculation but a simple concept.

My ideal would be to get a train out of Clapham Junction as early as possible after the peak fares have finished. This would be on Friday. My intention would be to leave London in the morning and return in the evening, in both cases going against what I assume to be the peak flow. In effect I will be ballast, as they have to move the carriages anyway*. So the price is irrelevant. They have a captive audience on the upline in the morning, equally captive down in the evening. Yet I am being offered tickets whose numbers are limited by capacity. Hint: if there are capacity limits on the ballast train, surely there would be severe overcrowding on the commuting train?

I had read that it has been decreed from on high that confusing and rip-off names for rail fares are being abolished. Turns out, not yet. We have to wait until Septemebr before being presented with a simple three-point choice: travel when you want, pay a lot; pay weeks in advance and get it for a song; avoid peak time and save a bit.

To be honest, it's not really that I object to paying a price for the convenience, although £85, before admissions and refreshments, is a bit steep. It's the complexity of the ifs and buts and the feeling that the ifsandbuts are not dictated by logic. It ought to be a no-brianer to get the train to the nether regions of Sussex, so much quicker and safer, especially as we consider a good meal and real ales or fine wines a vital part of a day out. I wish I could just roll up at Streatham Hill on Friday and ask for two return tickets and feel confident that the price I get is a fair price. But I already have a nagging feeling in my mind that I might end up being ripped off.

* I first observed this on the London Tilbury and Southend. Each morning crowded 12-carriage trains would thunder crawl into the city, an dcome out again, as deserted as the Marie Celeste. By about half three or four o'clock, empty twelve carriage trains, some in service some not would emerge from the Shoeburyness Trainsheds like nocturnal creatures blinking from their burrows, to pound the miles to the City to return packed to the gunwales. I pondered why they couldn't spend the day grazing in a field in London. Whetehr deliberately or happenstance, loco sheds tend to be remote from London

Embryo research, IVF and the right to choose

I am really puzzled why Cabinet Ministers such as Ruth Kelly, Paul Murphy and (alternatively reported as) Andy Burnham or Des Browne are allowed to selectively exercise their so-called "consciences" in matters such as these, when they had a total departure of conscience when it came to bombing people in Iraq.

I love that sort of conscience where you are happy to see people die or live their lives in pain and suffering rather than create a set of non-viable cells that won't ever become a human being.

I love the sort of conscience that wishes to ban single and lesbian women from having IVF because you oppose IVF, full stop anyway. Every sperm is sacred. Nice for those who can bang a sprog every year for four years.

I find it staggering that on one side of the debate yo get a wide range of research charities, the British Medical Association and other bodies staffed full of people who have dedicated their lives to improving the human condiiton. On the other side of the debate are a bunch of religious nutters whose lives have been dedicated to spreading fear and are full of hatred. And those MPs choose to side with the haters.

I'm almost tempted to up stcks and campaign against Kelly in the next General (I will have connections in her redrawn constituency), only the Tory is even more evil.

Fortunately, with a progressive majority in the House of Commons, the embryo and IVF clauses of common sense got through. I can't hang around waiting for the results of the abortion vote. But come on, does anyone with a brain actually think that a late abortion is desirable? Surely, if it were possible, all women wanting an abortion would want an early one. Most late abortions are for the very old, the very young or for unviable/barely viable foetuses, and far too many people who are way out of touch are playing a game of ramdon numbers.

Canon Numptyness update

A few days ago, I moaned about the incompetence of online retailers. Yahoo finally got their act together and rectified the situation (but it shouldn't have taken two months and umpteen emails).

Canon have responded

Your request for a refund has been processed. Refund details:...........If you have further questions regarding your order, please click on the link below for assistance

Strange I thought, I never asked for a refund, I asked for my goods.

So, I clicked on the link and entered my order number. Not found it said.

So, I thought. How often did I ever use the remote control before it malfunctioned?* And maybe it would be quicker and easier to knit myself a lightweight camera case. I am just puzzled at commercial organisation who seem allergic to collecting money from willing customers.

*which was 3 years ago. It would have been useful when taking a group photo and not necessitate my cousin sprinting across a garden to get in the group before the ten second delay expired...other than that, shrug

Road safety

What did you do this weekend?

One of the most shocking stories I have ever read on the internet.

The unsecured baby, meanwhile flew unimpeded into the front of the car, smashing his head against the windscreen, shattering the glass and collapsing in a bloody heap on the bonnet, just in front of his shellshocked father.

Flowering grass

It's growing in a pot of the garden of National Gert Cottage*. We don't know what it is

* we are now a part of a  Darling Nationalised Industry

An evening with Jonas Kaufmann

I wrote this for a newsgroup the morning after the Wednesday night, so it's not really in blogpost style, but why rewrite what captures the essence of the evening

He came over really well. Relaxed and articulate. A poised confidence that wasn't dependent upon some act of 'look at me look at me'. Thoughtful without being too self-analytical.

There was a lot of talk about roles and his versatility. He said that it's quite difficult to balance the development of roles with the need to commit 4 or 5 years in advance - there might be a new role that he's got booked for several different runs over the next two years, and he finds out that he's bored of it, but he's still committed to singing it in 5 years time. OTOH, there are roles - such as Otello - that he would love to do, but only when he's ready, and he has to decide whether to take the chance of being ready in 5 years. He could book one run, and find that it really works, and have no others booked for years, or he could take the chance that it will be right, find it's wrong for his voice and be committed to further appearances.

Edward Seckerson asked him whether he would sing Peter Grimes. His enthusiastic 'why not' was greeted approvingly by the capacity audience. He'd seen the recent 'Met' production and really liked it.

He talked about different roles, how Don Jose is good to play because of the way he is quite a complex character and changes through the opera, whereas Florestan has that wonderful aria which is a mini-opera in itself, but he says there is only one way to play Florestan, you can't play him as someone with a complex background.

He also talked about the difficulty of changing between roles. How he went from Don Jose to the Duke of Mantua with just a few days in between and it really hurt to make that change.

He was asked what hobbies he has. He said,being with his children. He absolutely doesn't like golf. His major thing is 'working', fixing things. When he rents an apartment, say in London, the first thing he does is go round fixing all the things that don't work properly - the heating, windows that don't close properly and so on. When he first came to Covent Garden someone showed him a tool shop on St Martin's Lane which he absolutely loves. Edward Seckerson remarked - there are some jobs that need doing round the opera house and then later said 'Can I have your number?'

I found myself sitting in an excellent position, pretty central. On the back row, which meant that I was elevated above the hoi polloi.

The talk was interspersed with the playing of recorded excerpts of various things. During Ah, fuyez douce image, our eyes met and locked. I think we both got into this situation where neither of us was able/prepared to break the lock. And from time to time, his eyes returned to mine. at times I felt he had picked me out as the person in the audience to direct attention at. If I was the person I was maybe ten years ago I would be going on an on about eyes meeting across a crowded room blah de blah, significance, destiny etc. But being that I'm now well grown up, I regard it merely as a fun inconsequential encounter between a man and a woman.

He did a signing after, but the person chairing the meeting said that Jonas's time was very limited. Plus, I have the residual of cough, cold etc, so I decided to avoid meeting him one on one.

He was dressed in a tailored jacket, open neck striped shirt (red and black candy stripes on white), jeans that didn't look cheap and had that deliberate washed-out look (but they didn't look hideously overpriced fashion victim). Also scruffy black trainers.

A member of the global conglomerate that is Parsifal79 reported it thus:

Jonas Kaufmann and about 100 of his fans, met yesterday in some studio of the Royal Opera House, where Jonas gave an interview and the fans ripped off his clothes, took pieces of his curly hair and were surrendered to massive hysteria.

with pics

Simon Boccanegra

I approached Tuesday night's performance at Covent Garden with mixed expectations. I do not know the opera as well as I ought to, although what I know I love. The cast had no 'pull' factor for me, but I also knew that a cast of singers of international renown should be sufficient to make a Verdi opera an enjoyable experience.

And I did enjoy, despite rather than because of the cast, and certainly despite the production, which was superficially pretty to look at but really quite amateur in its Met Trash ineptitude. Moments of great emotion, such as when Simon and Amelia realise they are long-lost father-daughter, were destroyed by the casual lack of interaction - her reaction was to walk to the edge of the set and sit down with her back to him, while he did a good statue impression. There was far too much concentration on park-and-bark, with far too many arias and phrases delivered from the front of stage, as if in concert. Most of the time the chorus stood around in a semi-circle, except at one point when they injected excitement by lining up along the front of the stage like an Infant School Assembly. And, bizarrely, in the Council Chamber scene, they rushed in and set the carefully arranged stools tumbling down the stairs.

The set was pretty much the same in all acts, regardless of whether it was outside Fiesco's house in Act I, in the garden, or in the Council chamber. Changes were signified by adding a branch of a tree or a 2-D cardboard cut-out of a ship.

Simon was sung by Lucio Gallo. At first I thought he sounded dreadful, then I began to realise that he was in distress. He hung on until the final act, when Marco Vratogna, who had already impressed as Paolo, took over with music stand from where the front of stage meets the wings - a bizarre plot twist where Paolo not only administers slow poison to Simon but also usurps his role!

Nina Stemme had originally been scheduled to sing Maria/Amelia but decided not to take on the role, so Anja Harteros was brought in late. She couldn't make a couple of performances, so we had Natalia Ushakova instead, the third choice. She wasn't up to scratch, very squawky. One woman commented that we don't pay Covent Garden prices to hear students. There were departures at half time.

Marcus Haddock was acceptable as Gabriel Adorno, but only in the sense that he was a third-rate tenor outclassing the fourth rate around him. The star of the evening was Ferruccio Furlanetto. He was originally called in to replace Orlin Anastassov on the first night, because he was already in town for Don Carlo, and he remains for most of the run. I enjoyed him in Forza a couple of years back and am definitely looking forward to him as Philip II in Don Carlo. Hon mensh in the singing also to Jette-Parker Young Artist Krzysztof Szumanski.

I enjoyed the music, although subsequently I overheard someone commenting that she never really heard the sea come through; I concur. It does seem a bit strange to have John Eliot Gardiner conduct Verdi, and I suppose it was how you would expect JEG to conduct Verdi.

Quite separately, two different people remarked to me that they assumed I was looking forward to the 2010 revival; indeed I am, and I especially noted that in the final scene Simon Boccanegra does a lot of baritonal rolling around on the floor. However, one of those people, and a third, have remarked 'supposing we can get tickets...' which means two years of TASS (Ticket Acquisition Stress Syndrome). Sigh

Where have I been and where am I going

I have spent the past ten days struggling with god knows what. I thought it was a reaction - stomach irritation or somesuch - to iron tablets. That transmogrified into sorest throat I can remember having for some years - possibly since the one I had in Sixth Form which was query-glandular-fever. Or perhaps the one that Christmas when my sister was down with pharyngitis and my brother with query-glandular-fever. 94 or possibly 93.

The red throat disappeared to be replaced with a chesty cough which I accept is self-inflicted and entirely dealable with.That has persisted and for a short time manifested itself as a sneezy cold. A bad spate of very severe heartburn seems to have subsided somewhat. My throat is now back and redder that in was a week ago. My ears are doing funny things which I suspect strongly is a precursor to an ear infection. Oh gosh, I've not had one of those for years.

And Jimmy is going through a similar routine although we are not synchronised

Naturally, all of this has been accompanied by tiredness, by sudden attacks of drowsiness at inopportune moments, followed by sleeplessness during the night. I have read that a couple of bloggers have tonsillitis; at dinner on Saturday the mother on the next table remarked to her son "Well, most of your class have tonsillitis at the moment."

Meanwhile this week, I am scheduled to attend Simon Boccanegra tomorrow, an evening with Jonas Kaufmann on Wednesday (don't worry, I will not be hunkentenor stalking; I don't want him any where near me);on Thursday it's Handel and Rameau, the English concert and Carolyn Sampson.

So, this week, when I ought to be making fantastic first impressions with my new head of Unit I am actually planning to overdo things, which is a big no-no for people with CFS. And not just overdo things, but overdo things whilst under the weather. Deliberately and consciously.

Still, I'm not out next week. Wednesday week is BIG NIGHT IN.

When a business makes me smile by using its brain

It's easy to moan about pisspoor companies who don't get that 'customers' are a vital part of their 'business'.

Sometimes we forget to praise the businesses who are run by grown-ups and appear to have an instinctive grasp that paying customers are pretty important to their business, income and profit.

Sixapart, makers of Movable Type, Typepad, Typekey etc...

I made them a payment for an annual service using Jimmy's credit card. This annual service included a two week trial period during which no attempt would be made to debit the card.

Towards the end of that two week trial period Jimmy lost his credit card and had to cancel it, and I thought, oh no, Six Apart will try to debit the payment, and it will be refused and it will all go horribly wrong.

So I emailed them, explaining the circumstances and that HSBC said it would be 7-10 days before the replacement arrived and I would be ever so grateful if you would allow me a short period of grace under the circumstances. This was on a Sunday afternoon Mid afternoon Monday they emailed me back. Their response was: yes, of course, we'll extend your deadline. Oh, and by the way, even then we give you another seven days to sort out any card errors. And even after that, although we suspend your account, we don't delete it, so once you pay up, everything is back to where it was.

That is what I call customer service. A swift and positive response to a request. No baby talk. A recognition of a fairly common problem and a practical sensible procedure for managing it. It isn't difficult and shouldn't be noteworthy, but in my experience, such behaviour is way too rare.

How being ripped off reduces me to tears of frustration

Sometimes I yearn for a simple life.

A life uncomplicated by the unnecessary pressures of being a consumer in a consumerist society.

I've known problems in my life. Those times when you just don't know how you're going to pay the next bill. Those times when you stand quivering with fear as it seems to take for ever for the plastic card to be authorised - or rejected and confiscated. And you know that these circumstances are of your own making.

I've known periods of self-denial. Snortle. Sometimes I've gone almost whole days without giving in to consumerist desires. I have gone through entire weeks, maybe almost complete months when I have scrutinised every buying decision. I've even had periods where I have rejected every buying decision except 'absolutely essential'.

What annoys me is the three things I have been currently having problems with are all unnecessary. I would not have had these problems ten years ago.

The first has been resolved. I renewed my anti-virus software and now have some all singing all dancing product called Norton 360. It has far too many whistles and bells, and doesn't exactly come cheap. but c'est la vie.

I downloaded it about six weeks ago but couldn't activate it. It simply wouldn't accept my product key. To cut a long story short, my second 'free trial' period expired today, and I was nearly in tears trying to work out what the problem was. Eventually, somewhere in the bowels of their site, I found an option to LiveChat. It turns out that I was trying to 'renew' a new product. Well, bugger me! Here I am thinking that by entering the product key that came with the confirmation that I had bought the product, I would be able to use the product I had bought. The solution involved allowing Symantec's support contractors to take remote control of my machine. I did not feel entirely comfortable with that, but, as they advised, I watched what was going on and it all seemed above board. I'm okay when IT support do that at work, even though it freaks me out. But, anyway, my virus, firewall, spyware, phishing, blah-de-blah protection is bang up to date. And so simple, in the end...

In March I paid out money to renew my MyBlogLog Pro, and they persist on keeping me on the free service. Every week I send an email and most of the time, they do nothing.

I did receive an excruciating twee condescending email from MyBlogLog, now part of Yahoo

Thank you for working with us so we may resolve the issue you are experiencing with MyBlogLog. We have forwarded the information you have supplied to us to our topnotch engineering department for further review and investigation. If it's possible to fix this problem, rest assured they'll do it, or at least find a clever work around. (They pride themselves as master troubleshooters.)

We apologize for the inconveniences and appreciate your patience and willingness to work with us while we work to resolve your issue.

This was a response to my response to them where I detailed the problem and stated in a businesslike manner "I am paying for a service I am not receiving, please rectify this immediately."

So, because they wanted to treat me as a halfwit, I got a bit angry and replied:

Please don't patronise me. I do not want your clever engineers to do a clever work around. What I suggest you do is:

a) verify that I have indeed paid for your service via Paypal (details attached) - you might want to consult with your accounts department, it is part of their job description to verify accounts receivable.

b) write that on a piece of paper and pass it to your very clever engineering department

c) flick the switch that changes 'free account' to 'pro account'. Oh, and please restore access to the statistics I have paid for since March 2005.

Since when all has been quiet. My god, I even suggest a solution and they're too drugged up to provide it. Morons. More seriously, exactly what part of customer service includes talking to customers as if they are zombies/infant-school children/half-wits.

Two months ago I ordered a new case and wireless remote control for my camera, from Canon. A month later they wrote to confirm that it had 'shipped'. Since when, nothing. I have tried sending them a message via their webshite - order number, nature of query, blah-de-blah. I click send, and the page refreshes, but it doesn't actually tell you if you have actually sent off an email. and you get no auto-reply in your inbox confirming they have received it. The only other way to contact them is by phone, to Ireland, and at only at 3 o'clock on a Wednesday morning if that Wednesday happens to be the 31st of the month (or some such nonsense).

I may not be the most canny business woman, but I reckon there is only one way to stay in business - deliver the product which the customer is willing to pay for. There is an additional way of making money - that is, taking money under false pretences. That is illegal and immoral. Right now, I think it's the business models of Yahoo! and Canon, who are currently filed under 'Lying thieving gits'

Lazy journalism...

From time to time, one reads articles in online newspapers that are written by people who don't have a clue about the subject they are covering. Or are merely paraphrasing a Press Release without engaging brain. Or haven't actually been to the event they are supposedly reporting. Or they assume that their readership is so stupid that they patronise them.

And then you get articles that cause one to stare with bulging eyes at the screen, exclaiming "WTF?"

Placido Domingo is joined by countertenor David Daniels in a sterling production of a rarely-performed work by Handel

So far so good(ish). An overlong and far-from-snappy headline; the first half is accurate, the third quarter is an opinion. The final quarter is inaccurate - yes, it's hardly a warhorse, but the plethora of live recordings that abound and three different productions in three different countries just in Spring 2008 contradict the fact. But I wouldn't wish to split hairs on 'rarely performed'.

Then we get to the "substance" of the piece, which is unbelievably stupid.

if you are a giggler or not immersed to the point of humorlessness in the traditions, quirky and otherwise, of opera, be strongly advised to avoid alcoholic beverages before seeing the WNO's production of George Frideric Handel's Tamerlano --at least until one of the two intermissions, that is. Don't get me wrong -- this is a most wonderful and well done opera, a fine example of Handel's baroque splendor. It's just that it has the teeniest of little surprises in it and if the defenses are down... well, let's just nip in the bud right here, shall we? The surprise and delight, I will add, of this opera is the fascinating phenomenon of the countertenor.

Oh my god! A counter-tenor!!! A completely unheard of freak from outer-space!!! ROFLMAO!! LOLCATZ!!

Who on earth is this ridiculous article aimed at? I will willingly concede that any production is likely to attract a proportion of newbs, some of whom might be entirely unfamiliar with trained voices. But this writer seems to think that the bulk of the audience who have bought tickets for a Handel opera have not only never heard a counter-tenor live, they have also never heard a counter-tenor on record, nor have they any prior knowledge of counter-tenors whatsoever. And, furthermore, they are probbaly going to pee themselves just a little. Absolutely unbelievable.

I have expressed before that I am not keen on counter-tenors singing roles written for castrati, preferring on the whole to hear the full-bodied sound of a mezzo-soprano or a rich contralto. But mine is a minority view, I think; many Baroque-lovers feel that a counter-tenor is closer to the correct sound. On the whole, I dislike the lack of variety of colouring and volume that is characteristic of counter-tenors.

This writer refers to the c-t being an 'ancient' voice, which, actually, isn't inaccurate, but in opera, it is really a phenomenom of the late 20th century. And I don't imagine she actually intended to be so accurate - she probably thinks 'counter-tenor' and 'castrato' are interchangeable terms. She fails to mention that the essence of a counter-tenor is that they sing in falsetto. (Castrati's voices never broke, because of the pre-pubescent castration). This is pretty common, to the point of being unremarkable, in pop music.

Such dumbed-down avoidance might be forgiveable in an article aimed at the under-tens, but this appears in an LGBT publication. I would have thought the target demograph for such a publication is hardly likely to get an attack of puritanical vapours from a factual statement about castrati. Considering that David Daniels is one of the very few out gay male opera singers, a parenthetical mention of this would not be out-of-place. Or indeed some mention that many people assume incorrectly that all counter-tenors are gay, or maybe some research to support or refute my theory that counter-tenor fans are disproportionately gay. Maybe, some mention that many roles taken by counter-tenors are alternatively cast with mezzos (or contraltos) so, in this production, there is a gorgeous love duet between Patricia Bardon and Sarah Coburn, which would create a frisson of some interest, I would imagine, to some of the LGBT community.

I have to say a considerable amount of what I have read concerning this production just comes over as ... provincial. But how can it be...provincial...when it's occurring in the political capital of the world's sole superpower. In the rehearsal journal, some reader opines that New York City Opera is responsible for giving baroque opera exposure, a view supported by the self-aggrandising piece on NYCO's website. And the various p/reviews which have asserted without qualification that David Daniels is the best c-t in the world, a difficult claim to sustain unequivocally in a world that contains Andreas Scholl (and others, too.)

The article closes with 'brace yourself for the bearded lady', presumably a euphemism for 'clench your pelvic floor muscles, especially if you ignored all advice and partook of a small sweet sherry beforehand'. I prefer not to ponder the possible inundation that might result from this rather silly writer being subject to Landi's Sant'Alessio, with no fewer than eight counter-tenors...

There does seem to be some dispute whether the Handel revival started in the 1920s, the 1960s or 1985, but even if it's the last, that's over two decades ago. Long enough for people to absorb the characteristics, I think.

Tamerlano, Washington

Video clip

Site stats

I scrutinise my site referral stats relentlessly. For some bizarre reason, I often get people coming here looking for 'topless holiday photos'. Always eager to please my public, I have decided to publish a picture of me topless, on holiday. This were taken as I lay in the jacuzzi in my hotel room in Madrid a few weeks ago. I also have a picture of me in the shower

Local elections

It was a good few years ago that the magazine of my Professional Institute ran a Leader column about elections and politics in general. The thrust of it was - why n earth are politicians bending over backwards to pander to the wishes of people who don't participate in the political process. It was a very black-and-white argument and superficially very attractive - along the lines of: as no one is preventing them from expressing their views and getting involved, it's their choice not to be involved and therefore why bother about them.

It's tempting to go along with that. I met people at University who shrugged that politics was nothing to do with them - although they moaned about the paucity of their grant. I have a recall of a woman whose door I knocked on in a 'Registration Drive'. She lived on the Valley Road Estate in Streatham - so we're talking about early to mid 90s, when a combination of lack of government funding (£4 billion backlog of council house repairs and maintenance) and an inefficient council running a corrupt Direct Services Organisation and inert housing department meant that council housing was dire. She was on benefits and had children of school age. she refused to register to vote because 'The government has done nothing for me'.

I can't believe the number of times I have heard direct or reported about people who found the London electoral system confusing. Granted, there will always be a few who can't cope - two years ago I was behind an elderly woman escorting her mother to the polling station. The daughter and the polling clerks were trying to get over to her that she had three votes. Sadly, I think she was well past understanding the concepts either of 'three' or 'votes'. I'm talking about people who hold down responsible jobs. I am amazed that there are people who can't understand three simple sets of instructions (first sheet - you have two columns, in the first mark an 'x' against your first choice for mayor and in the second mark an 'x' against your second choice; on the second sheet make an 'x' for whichever candidate - who are listed along with the name and picture of their political party - you would like to be the Assembly member in your area; on the third sheet mark an 'x' against which party you like best across London). These people are allowed to have their feet on the accelerator and clutch and their hands on the steering wheel while looking in the mirror, signalling and getitng ready to pull out. And yet they can't follow these simple instructions on how to vote.

( I can understand why people don't always understand the mathematics and the tactics of alternative vote and party lists. Having voted for Ken in the first column it was a waste of effort to put my X next to Sian Berry in the second column, just as in the Streatham Selection, having voted for Chuka 1 it was a waste of effort to vote Steve 2. But the maths and the tactics aren't the mechanics).

I know I am banging my head against a brick wall. My first election campaign was twenty four years ago. My favourite subject at both A-Level and degree level was psephology. But it annoys me like hell that people vote on National Issues in Local Elections. We had the ridiculous situation two years ago in the London Borough elections of certain idiot bloggers saying 'Vote Lib Dem' because of Iraq, displaying their political (and verbal) illiteracy - fortunately sufficient (and more!) of the voters of Lambeth decided 'vote Labour because of the horrendous mess the LibDems and Tories have made of running the council' - and yes, back in 94, many of them said Vote LibDem because of the mess Labour has made. So in each of 94 and 06 Lambeth bucked the national trend because of Local Issues in local elections, whilst in places like Croydon they voted on national issues. Yes, that allowed crowing emails to be sent round work to Conservative residents of Croydon, but I doubt it was really a reflection on how the Tories had been running Croydon Council nor on how Labour promised to do so. The same but vice versa in 2006.

It puzzles me how the closer an issue, and the more impact it has on people's daily lives, the less likely they are to engage. Reading through the 'comments' in the right wing newspapers on-line this week, people are sounding off about this and that and laying blame where it doesn't lie, or only partially lies.

Meantime, in their local communities decisions are being made about local schools, bin collections, planning strategy, social housing, traffic calming, pollution and noise control, parking, and all sorts of issues that affect people on a day-to-day basis. and, it seems, a large proportion of those who could even be bothered to vote decided not to hold their local councils accountable for those decisions, but, instead, participated in a great big opinion poll about...what?

All those who voted Tory on the swing, do they honestly believe that a Cameron government would have left Northern Rock to collapse, and with it the life savings of thousands of people? Do they honestly think a Cameron government would have not joined in the Iraq war which has been a major factor in soaring oil prices and the knock-on effect? Do they think that a Cameron government would somehow join the Eurozone and thus reduce the cost of our summer holidays, just like that? Are they taken in by the Tory promises of £20 billion pounds cuts in public services running simultaneously with vote grabbing soundbites of increasing services (uncosted) to the early-middle-aged-middle-class-prosperous who demographically ought to be voting Tory but haven't done so for more than a decade?

God help London

We have a buffoon as our Mayor. A racist sexist homophobic pig who knows fuck all about what he's in charge of and what he isn't, can't manage his way out of a paper bag, can't add up...

"Oh, but he's funny on HIGNFY..."

"We thought we'd give the government a kicking...", but you weren't voting for the UK government. You've chosen a lunatic to be in charge of policing, transport, strategic planning, and the minor matter of the Olympics.

The only slight consolation I can see is that every mistake Boris makes, every time he puts his foot in his mouth, every time he displays his foolishness, or his ignorance of London and Londoners, it will just remind us all why we don't want his chums from the Bullingdon Club running the country.

Roberto Alagna in Viva Verdi, Barbican

Oh dear, if it was down to Roberto Alagna, poor old Giuseppe would be dead and truly buried.

I can see the attraction of wanting to do an all-Verdi programme, but it wasn't wise.

Obviously, all the pieces performed were at least vaguely familiar and most of them extremely so.

I came away with an increased fondness for Verdi, knowing that he must be special to survive this onslaught.

I think I also came up with a new notch on the scale of awfulness. This was 'Exponentially better than that dreadful Icelandic last year'. I can see a future critique being 'Well, a lot better than Alagna but nothing special'.

I don't know what inspires a singer to come up with a programme which is beyond his capabilities. My verdict on the first half was 'no sense of pitch, no sense of rhythm'. One friend remarked that it's like as soon as he goes above the stave it's just random. And then another friend joined us, with the question "Isn't it usual for singer and orchestra to be in the same key?'

He was out of step rhythmically with the orchestra in 'Oh tu in seno agli angeli' and in Celeste Aida, he finished with an interpolated random high note which is neither in the score nor supported by tradition. It was just bad. People say he has no business singing Radames; arguably a singer can get away with an isolated aria from the wrong fach, not him.

I was slightly surprised that, having heard Va pensiero in the first half, the second half opened with the overture from Nabucco. I was struck by its similarity to Finlandia, and suddenly got a craving for Sibelius. Very strange in a Verdi concert!

Lunge da lei...De' miei bollenti spiriti (Traviata) and Questa o quella (Rigoletto) were just meugh. Not bad, but just very unspecial. When I consider the fine tenors I have heard sing these, in the past year alone, he simply doesn't cut it. Then a piece I hadn't previously heard, although it was familiar: Quadrille on motifs from 'Un ballo in maschera' arranged J Strauss II. I enjoyed that. Oh! fede negar potessi...Quando le sere al placido (Luisa Miller) was so-so, then a fun Anvil Chorus (Trovatore) made me sit up.

Up to this point, I had been willing to give Roberto the benefit of the doubt, reminding myself that it is easy to criticise someone standing there exposed on the concert platform; in a staged performance, because there are so many more stimuli I would be forgiving of a minor slip, or a less than ideal this or the other. I was perplexed that while I thought it was a second rate performance, the hall was full of people shouting and clapping and screaming as if they were at the performance of a lifetime.

He came out for Niun mi tema (Otello). Bizarrely, he removed his jacket in one of those 'let's get informal with the audience' moments. And he proceeded to hold his jacket throughout the murder of an amazing aria. In fairness, he did start in tune, and singing, but it just deteriorated. I suddenly remembered what my friend had said during the interval. If you can imagine Sacha Distel singing Otello, this would be partly it. The rest, well - I know it's not a very lyrical aria, but that doesn't mean it should be delivered in a talking growl. At the end someone shouted out "Bravo". I can only hope that they were actually bravoing Verdi, because the orchestral writing is tremendous, incredibly atmospheric and evocative. They can't possibly have been bravoing the singing, could they?

That was the "end" of the show, but there was more to come. The opening struck up and I got ever so excited: the opening scene of Otello. I had half-sensed it, because just before Niun mi tema I had noticed a wind machine in the percussion, and I had subconsciously thought about the opening, but didn't make that thought concrete. So, the orchestra and chorus started up. What they lacked in finesse and precision they more than compensated for in welly - it really is a wonderfully loud and raucous storm scene. And of course, then, our tenor comes in with "Esultate!"

Oh dear! I had already been ticked off in the interval for making comparisons with 'the Master' even though I hadn't said a word, and I firmly resolved to make no further comparisons with El Maestro, because, especially in Otello, they would be unflattering. But I have heard others than The Master singing it live and on recordings, so I have a good few with which to compare. Frankly, I would rather have heard a counter-tenor. It was a disgrace. Involuntarily I put my hands to my ears to block out the ugly sound of a tenor crashing and burning. And to my amazement most of the rest of the audience were beside themselves in sheer ecstasy.

Next we had Di quella pira (Trovatore), which was, if anything even worse. And was capped off by a random discordant high note (or rather several, such was the wobble) that brought the audience to its feet, screaming for more. By then I had had enough. I thought it might be over, save that the orchestra were rooted to the spot. I later discovered that I had missed 'La donna è mobile' (oh, my heart is breaking) and a cheesy dedication of a Sicilian song to his wife. As I wasn't there, I can only quote a friend of mine (who will remain anonymous unless they wish to claim credit!)

He turned to the audience and said something like "This is a Sicilian love song - I would like to dedicate it to my beautiful wife who I love so much. The words mean "How long will I love you for? = Until I die"

Morticia was sitting in the stalls, ridiculously over-dressed in a vulgar bright red satin cape with a glittery silvery Chav handbag and glittery silver Chav shoes. Clearly dressed to get the maximum attention and shout "Look at me, I'm a diva". She was "holding court" on the way backstage afterwards, being followed by her niece and Bobby's daughter who both looked embarrassed to be seen with their stepmother.

I can't put my finger on the problem. Clearly he has a first-class voice and a confident stage manner. He knows the pieces well. So, what is the problem? He often lost time with the conductor ie the orchestra. He inserted ridiculously long held notes for the sheer macho show-off of it (such as 'morendo' in Niun me tena, and, apparently, in La donna, he held one note so long the conductor just went on without him). He didn't give any great impression of really understanding what he was singing. Yes, the words (although I found his Italian diction to be mediocre) but not actually the meaning, the sentiment. Almost total lack of legato, and something wrong with his breath control that sometimes made the volume uneven and at others demonstrated a wobble. And there was a lack of natural beauty. Obviously, he's a big star; I got the distinct impression that many people had travelled from far for this event. They seemed to enjoy themselves, which is great, but I can think of any number of tenors I would prefer to spend an evening with.

As a result of this evening I am resolved not to go to Trovatore at ROH next season. I detest the voice of the soprano singing Leonore (I'm sure she's a lovely person), and I couldn't risk that and a crash-and-burn Alagna.

Roberto is due also in the future to sing the following in London: Carmen, Boheme and L'elisir d'amore. Boheme I will happily miss, Carmen and L'elisir will depend upon the rest of the cast.

Tamerlano in Washington

Building an Opera:  Behind the Scenes of Tamerlano -  a rehearsal diary, which is vaguely interesting in places, as is:

Blog: William Lacey Conducts Tamerlano at Washington National Opera

Placido Domingo takes on new challenge

In his rich-hued robes, the tenor presents quite an exotic sight - "I dress like this for all my interviews," he says with a smile that lights up his dark, penetrating eyes

Critique from Dominic at Musical Criticism

Outwest Arts was there last night

Tame Tamerlano

Amid the Baroque and the Bluster, Love Blossoms

Tamerlano @ WNO

Domingo, a Lion in Winter in 'Tamerlano'

Domingo Goes Baroque

Domingo delivers 'Tamerlano'