For various reasons I haven't been out much to culture in the past few months. There hasn't been a great deal that has taken my fancy. I have sometimes realised, after the event, that there are things that I would have wanted to attend, if only I had known before the event.
The great Covent Garden Ticket fiasco influenced my decision not to book for Capuleti e Montecchi. A friend went to the Dress Rehearsal and reported that the production was one of the most egregious examples of Met Trash available East of Manhattan. Plus, when writing the music - basically, tralalalalala - Bellini was clearly unaware that this was one of Shakespeare's greatest tragedies.
I knew months ago that I had no wish to see Trovatore. I would have liked to have seen Trovatore but couldn't stomach two of the singers - one for her painful foghorn and th eother for his unsuitability for the role. This review confirms everything - and more - that I feared in advance and completely vindicates my decision to stay away.
But in May we go mad! I say 'we' I mean 'me'. There will be no stopping me. Next weekend I have Peter Grimes and Lohengrin; a few days pause before the Cr**so**r Brits (which I am looking ofrward to with equal parts fear, dread, thrill and excitement).
The next day - after I have done a presentation at work - is L'elisir d'amore, a day's rest (but for the Manchester United v Arsenal Premiership match), then marathon Handel - Agrippina at RFH and Arianna in Creta at the Barbican.
A few days rest will be punctuated by running round and panicking about my trip to Paris (during which the Premiership will come to its conclusion - I hope it will be all over by then because I'd rather be at Versailles then shouting and going mad with myself in some Parisian bar). The trip to Paris encompasses a performance of Cyrano de Bergerac. I return, possibly for the European Cup Final on the telly, possibly not, and attendance at Wuthering Heights the ballet. I no longer have any interest in the FA Cup Final but expect I shall watch it, before finishing the month with a day trip to Paris for the matinée of Cyrano de Bergerac before collapsing exhausted.
I shall endeavour to Twitter as I go along; but I shan't Twitter for its own sake. I shall also try to write timely and non-turgid reviews, including photos where possible and appropriate.
I want to fit in some exercise around these events, and have to accept the inevitability of chores. Oh, and , you know, work. In order to make it happen, I will also need to get to bed at decent times, especially on my 'nights off'. I suspect I might get behind with reading of blogs and so on. Sorry. And I can't see me getting involved in the Euro elections. No real health-based complaints, just disenchantment and demotivation.
All I can say to my British readers. Of course you know I want you to go out and vote Labour, but I can't think of any persuasive reasons to convince the 'antis'. What is really really really important is that each and every single one of you makes the effort to go out and vote Labour, Tory, LibDim, Green, Plaid Cymru, SNP - anything to ensure that the BNP, who are always well organised, don't get any MEPs elected.
