Gertsamtkunstwerk

Plácido Domingo's Operalia Winners

This concert happened at the Royal Opera House last Wednesday. I bought a programme, but they run out and a lot of people were unhappy. As a result, the (revised) programme is available for download from the website. I say revised, because unfortunately Erwin Schrott had to withdraw due to illness. Considerably the large number of people performing and knowing how these things can go, I was pleasantly surprised that no other singers found reasons to withdraw.

I am not a reviewer, I'm not paid to review, and I certainly  don't get free tickets, so I don't intend to go through a detailed review. And I decided not to take any photos because my seat, in row H of the amphitheatre, was so far above the stage that I know that they would be just shots of the top of people's heads, I have 300 unedited photos on the PC and I didn't fancy going through dozens of dismal shots trying to salvage something usable. I wasn't quite sure what the people two rows in front hoped to capture with their phone cameras! And, as I write, they appear to have no photos available on their Facebook or Flickr sites.

I was, by and large, pleased with the way the concert was programmed. Apart from starting, suitably, with the Prelude to Act I of Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg every other piece was sung, and the transition between pieces was smoothly executed with no long pauses after the applause had died away. Certainly no near neighbours found time to read the newspaper as we waited for the next act. And there was a reasonable variety of pieces, although nothing post-Puccini and nothing pre-Rossini. Also, this being badged as part of the London 2012 Festival, the absence of English pieces was an oversight. In short, less bel canto and a token nod at Handel would have been welcome, but with Tony Pappano conducting, this was never going to happen.

I found the Bellini and Rossini pieces boring beyond words and I won't insult the doubtlessly fine singers by commenting further, because this was undoubtedly due to my personal feelings about bel canto, and anything further is unhelpful to you.

My personal highlights were, unsurprisingly, the Wagner excerpts, which by default makes Nina Stemme my outstanding singer. Indeed, as she took up Du bist der Lenz from Winterstürme wichen dem Wonnemond I spontaneously burst into tears. Up until then I had felt rather disillusioned, but the magic of the music grabbed my emotions. Not least, flooding me with memories of some wonderful performances of this opera and this excerpt in particular. I especially remembered being here two days after London had won the Olympics, one day after it had been bombed, the incredible spirit of that day, and reflecting that we were now just two days away from London 2012. I also loved her Dich, teure Halle.

My other highlights took me slightly by surprise: Sonya Yoncheva's Depuis le jour from Gustave Charpentier's Louise was moving. A strong and expressive voice. I also loved Joseph Calleja's Nessun dorma; I don't believe I have ever heard it performed live. It's the opera aria that everybody knows, and it can sound tiresome and clichéd when over-used or used out of context. But it was a stirring performance.

 And Plácido Domingo, I can feel you ask! His appearance was pretty low key, actually. I enjoyed his Wintersturme but felt that his voice wasn't fully warmed up, and it seemed a shadow of previous times I have heard him sing it, in opera or in concert. His Nemico della patria was impressive, although it's not an aria I can warm to. In the Rigoletto excerpt I was transported by what I suppose you'd call stage presence or his immersion into the character.

All in all, an enjoyable evening, somewhat marred by the anti-social behaviour of certain audience members near me - the woman next to me insisted on talking to her husband through the opening bars of every piece, the person who hummed along with Wintersturme, the person heard snoring through Nessun Dorma, and the woman behind me who exclaimed loudly about Joyce DiDonato "She's changed!" - she had sung a female role in a dress before the interval and had, seemingly, defied time and space to change into trousers for a trouser role after the interval. Perhaps this person had never attended an opera or a concert before where singers change their outfits!

Also, from where I was sitting, there were various times when I was struggling to hear various singers over the orchestra. Simply because, being a concert, the orchestra were on stage, not sunk into the pit. But it wasn't a major problem, certainly not enough to diminish my enjoyment.

 

A leisurely amble through the Pool of London

The Sunday following our Whitstable outing was stiflingly bakingly hot. We knew we wanted to get out. We wanted to be in the open air. We didn't want to expand too much energy. And we didn't want to be in a place where masses would be congregating to enjoy the heat and sunshine.

Writing that, I realise that walking, in Central London via a major Tourist attraction was pretty much a failure on all of these points, but at the time it didn't feel that way.

We walked from London Bridge to Wapping, along the North Bank of the River Thames. Hardly virgin territory for us, the internet or visitors to London. We had been on boat trips so many times and, in various ways, taken in so many of the sights, some of which form the core of a tourist trip to the city whose origins go back at least to Roman times.

I have been thinking how to write this post. In that short stretch we walked, there is so much history, so much to see. If I tried to research - however superficially - background to every landmark, it would be a book, not a blogpost. 

Part of the attraction of such a walk is spotting the small but meaningful artifacts, such as this wood from the Roman wharf. At the time of my walk and previously, I've always thought of London as a Roman city. Wikipedia says Although there is evidence of scattered Brythonic settlements in the area, the first major settlement was founded by the Romans in 43 AD. 

I subsequently watched a TV programme which revealed something to me:

Two recent discoveries indicate that London could be much older than previously thought. In 1999 the remains of a Bronze Age bridge were found on the foreshore north of Vauxhall Bridge. This bridge either crossed the Thames, or went to a (lost) island in the river. Dendrology dated the timbers to 1500BC.

I was actually poised to write that this information was entirely new to me, until I remembered that I was a Lambeth councillor in 1999 and I have a vague memory of this discovery being brought to my attention. It seems that I didn't fully absorb the significance of this. Of course, it doesn't alter the history of 'London' because throughout most of (written) history Vauxhall was not considered London, so I doubt it would have been 3500 years ago!

The City of London is known for its many churches often named after somewhat obscure saints. Orcadian St Magnus is perhaps less obscure than some, having a cathedral in Kirkwall named after him, and, I read, has a chamber opera, The Martyrdom of St Magnus,  written about him. Sunday Service was underway, so we didn't go in, and instead set out for a stroll against the Thames Path. St Magnus is one of the many 'Wren Churches' rebuilt after the Great Fire of London 1666

There is so much to stimulate the eye - Tower Bridge and HMS Belfast are never out of sight, nor is the most recent monstrosity, The Shard. I detest the Shard. I'm usually quite a fan of fancy tall buildings and innovative building designs, from bridges to ferris wheels, but The Shard, as seen from my vantage point on the top of Brixton Hill, is completely out of proportion to the rest of London. 

The path takes us in front of the Old Billingsgate, distinguishable by the fish in its weather-vane. Now used as a Conference Centre and otherwise entirely anonymous. There wa sa fascinating set of TV programmes about 3 major London markets, including New Billingsgate, where the fish market relocated (to the Isle of Dogs) in 1982. It's in decline; the supermarkets buy direct from producers, as do many smaller retailers.

With the tide out, the beach was visible. We were clearly not the first to have been down there, but once we got down on the beach, it was part irritating part hilarious watching certain tourists waiting for us to make the next move so they could follow us. Incapable of using their eyes or their legs to explore, they needed to copy us.

 

 
We walked past Custom House, but I failed to get a decent photo. I audited there many years ago, a rather wonderful place to visit. The Long Room is rather ornate and has an interesting acoustic affect which means quiet conversations can be heard the other end of a large hall. I believe it sometimes opens to the public on Open House day. Not the Queen's Warehouse, though.

Our walk took us directly to the Tower of London where my heart sunk. The place was swarming with tourists. However, and notwithstanding the usual quota of idiots, and a greater number of sheep with no respect for personal space, our visit was uneventful. We even had a look round the tourist tat shop. I was a little surprised about the focus on Henry VIII, especially the lack of context. Erm, he sent a lot of people to be murdered in the Tower. Not my first choice for a character cuddly teddy bear.

I took the obligatory photos of the Tower, of Tower Bridge, and of views upstream from there. It seemed a bit pointless. Professional photographers have taken so many over the years. On the other hand, I'm telling you a story: I walked past the Tower, and Tower Bridge. Here they are!

     

 On the beach below the Tower an archaeological dig was taking place, seemingly under the auspices of the The Museum of London Archaeology's Thames Discovery Programme, which allows members of the public to get involved.

 
This woman seemed to be one of the leaders. She looked very cool. Maybe someone should write a children's TV programme about a Riverside Archaeologist!

On the other hand, this family seemed entirely inappropriately dressed. You seriously wouldn't find me sloshing around in Thames mud in a pair of flip flops!

 Under the bridge, and more opportunities to take photos of this famous landmark.

 

Startling how few tourists managed to walk the few extra metres to relative quiet east of Tower Bridge! Just a few steps further on and we were in St Katharine Docks, which I had always previously called 'St Katherine's'. It's one of the first examples of dockland redevelopment. It's years since I've been there, on a similarly hot day, and recall it being packed tight. I was surprised on this hot day - the hottest so far this year, I think, how quiet it was. Nice to wander round and look.

 
 
 

 

By this time I had walked far enough in the searing heat, so we retired to The Cape in Thomas More Square. I doubt it would be my scene on a weekday evening, but it was a welcome oasis. We both ate a decent plate of fish and chips, nicely cooked and attractively served. I stupidly shook the tomato ketchup bottle without checking the lid was on, and splattered its contents over my white skirt. Looked light the slaughter of the innocents. I rate highly the quality of the soap and the hand dryers in the Ladies!

So, all in all, a pleasant enough stroll in the heat. And, surprisingly not too bothered by daft tourists.

A day out to Whitstable

It seems a long time ago. The sun was shining. It seemed like summer.

I was on Sick Leave. Officially signed off  by the doctor. And my Carer decreed that I needed a trip to the seaside. So, bus to Brixton, and then a mad dash up the thousands of stairs to the platform at Brixton station, needless because my watch was two minutes fast. And, anyway, the next train would have got us to Whitstable just as quickly - we changed at Bromley South.

The first thing I wanted on arrival at the seaside was a cup of tea. Drawn to an al fresco place, we were soon tempted into ordering no-fuss hot meals. It was an odd place. Clearly unprepared for the burst of hot weather and understaffed, it was almost painfully slow and disorganised. A few tricks missing, such as bringing drinks straight away, irrespective of how long the wait for food. The tables weren't numbered but the orders were, by numbered blocks of wood - so we were number 5, but the people on the next table who ordered just before us were number 36. However, despite the obvious chaos I would highly recommend it. The staff were, without exception, the nicest bunch of youngsters I have ever encountered in their positions, and the food was worthwhile. I had a large bowl of delicious mussels and a generous bowl of chips, and Jimmy was happy with his 'catch of the day'. I'm sorry I didn't photograph them, but I did shoot my tea, such a pleasure after having been served too many poor quality cardboard cups of tea. Other than a couple of doughnuts later in the afternoon I didn't eat again all day.

 

After eating we walked around the harbour, enjoying the heat and sun (looks outside at pouring rain, sobs uncontrollably). I've been to Whitstable once before, the first serious outing with my previous camera, a Canon G3. There's something about the town I like. Although I don't like that it's a disproportionatelt long train ride for its distance from home - it's easier and quicker to Brighton. But it's a working port and thus more photogenic than Brighton Marina.

At this point, I realised that somebody was watching me take photographs and then take the 'same' photo himself. I thought it a bit silly. He didn't really know what I was focusing on or why I was photographing it. It's like cooking when unhappy - if you don't feel even a mild personal inspiration, it doesn't taste very nice. But at least an unhappy will be nutritious. 

But I can feel very competitive so I had a short burst of shooting at quirky objects

 

 

We walked a short distance along the sea front. I noticed from signs that the beach is privately owned - by the Whitstable Oyster Fishery Company. They seem to be quite dominant in the town...I know I need to be careful because I'm sure I'll be corrected if I get this wrong! They won restaurants, pubs, a hotel, and ex-fishermen's huts to let. I feel uncomfortable at the thought of one company dominating in this way, but my thoughts when writing now are influenced by my subsequent visit to Bournemouth. For now, I'll say that the Whitstable's way of doing it is better for the visitor!

 

 

We sat on the beach in just about the same position as we had on our previous visit. It was at this point that I realised that sitting on a pebbly beach is not that comfortable. And most beaches in the south of England are pebbly. (We have subsequently bought a couple of cheap roll-up foam mats, which we hope to use some time this summer!).

 

It was pleasant to people-watch on the beach. It was  gratifying to see how many small children were brought for some fresh air and exercise after school; but a bit saddening to see how few were, too. Here and elsewhere. Frantically jealous of the kids who have this in their life.

Unfortunately, I wasn't feeling too well, although more tea, and doughnuts, helped. But then the breeze began to blow and we decided it was time to head home. A long round trip for just a few hours by the sea!

I've added these photos to my previous set from 2003. I hope they reflect the fondness in which I hold this town.

Open Gardens

Various open garden schemes exist, where ordinary people open their ordinary residential gardens to the public on payment of a small fee towards a charity.

I saw that several gardens in our area were to open as part of the 'Chelsea Fringe' - timed to coincide with the Chelsea Flower Show. They were raising money for Trinity Hospice. 

It's a good idea but it was rather poorly executed. We paid to go into two gardens. £3 per person a time. Yes, that's £12 for two gardens. In retrospect, perhaps the tickets were transferable between gardens. But they didn't say so, and I've checked the website again, and again it seems to imply a separate entrance fee for each garden. It gets rather expensive. Some places advertise that they served refreshments, with some implying that the refreshments are inclusive and others implying the opposite. So, basically, poor communication!

Still, we went to a very nice garden only a few roads away from us. The people were very pleasant and welcoming, although I found it an odd experience walking into someone's back garden, nosing around and making sotto voce observations. They have a relatively long garden, and have divided into three phases, each of which resembles a garden in its own right, but also mesh well together.

 

We went to a second garden, where again, the people were very nice and welcoming. We were surpised that their garden seemed no bigger than ours, although they have a lawn as a centrepiece, whereas ours is based around a paved area. It's informative to  see how other people use the space, and to ponder whether we could learn anything from them. And, of course, for about ten minutes, I had this mad idea that, of course, next year, we'll open ours to the public, too. Of course we won't. We're far too sensitive. It would only take malicious criticism from one ill-mannered buffoon to cast a cloud over our entire existence. Also, I guess it must take a lot of work to bring them absolutely to standard, whereas if you're just entertaining friends, you can get away with a stack of empty plant pots or a patch that's unplanted.

 

Deciding we didn't want to pay any more, we went for a coffee on Clapham Common, which was so horrible I blogged about it that day

From there we moved on, and found ourselves, somewhat inadvertently, on Northcote Road, the beyond trendy shopping parade on the Battersea-Clapham borders. By chance we found ourselves in Gail's, from where we purchased some artisan bread to take home. We stopped for a snack. This was my coffee and cake. Very nice.