From one place frequented by Prince William to another. Before I come to that, my beta reader tells me my link last time led to a lot of nonsense. Here instead is a YouTube clip of Fred Astaire and Judy Garland singing and dancing, much better than JD and me. I can see a picture of them, not just the link, I hope you can. (This applies to rather a lot of today’s links; I’ve not managed to work out which need screenshots nor how to add them to the Post. Sorry, you’ll just have to click).
After January, we had a few quiet days (a steak night at the Shepton Montague pub, one of our favourite locals, with pals) then started again on February 7th with a trip to the Wiltshire Music Centre to see Lisa Pulman and Joe Stilgoe. Lisa is part of Fascinating Aida, who I’ve mentioned once or twice before, and Joe is the son of Sir Richard Stilgoe, a British songwriter and lyricist who I remember from earlier in my life. The concert was very enjoyable, although we found the Music Centre a bit concrete-y and soul-less. Or, as they put it, ‘unique and contemporary’. Possibly it was that a piano and singer would feel better in a more intimate cabaret setting?
A few days later we had dinner at the Archangel in Frome with other pals. This is part of the Butcombe Brewing Company, a beer we’ve always liked since first moving to Somerset. The pub is apparently as old as the Domesday Book, first recorded as an inn in 1311. The reason for going in February was that, in December, we called into a sister pub, The George Inn in Norton St Phillip on our way home from Bath. We had a great lunch and at the end were given a golden ticket, to use at any of their pubs before the end of February. A cunning plan to get people to go out when normally we’d be hibernating after the excesses of Christmas. It allowed up to six people, and would entitle you to 20%, 50% or 100% off your food bill. We only received 20% off but still worthwhile and a fun evening. They’ve even got places in London so maybe we’ll try them one day.
https://butcombe.com/hotels/somerset/
The end of that week was Valentine’s Day. I was all for getting a supermarket ready meal and a quiet night eating in but the chef outvoted me so instead we went to Trinity, a Michelin-starred restaurant in Clapham. We found out afterwards that George and Yangtze had celebrated one of G’s birthdays there. Didn’t invite us. I think I can say it was one of the best evenings we’ve ever had. Here’s JD at the beginning of the evening before we’d had a drink, not sure what was so funny on his phone.
The only possible problem is that we were last out and I read that, if you outstay your welcome, you might find the restaurant is full next time you try to book. Along with if you’re rude to staff, don’t turn up or are generally obnoxious. Surely staying and spending more money on espresso martinis and other cocktails can’t be put into the same league as those? Maybe I’ll try to book again, just to test the theory.
Part of the reason I’d suggested staying in was that we were booked to see the ballet Onegin at the Royal Opera House the following afternoon, followed by dinner at Hakkasan, a well-renowned Chinese restaurant. We thought it a good place to practice our chopstick skills.
You might not have come across the ballet, it premiered in 1965 with the Stuttgart Ballet. The story is based on Puskin’s novel Eugene Onegin, the music comes from Tchaikovsky and the choreography from John Cranko. As you can imagine, a fair number of budding dancers in the audience. We managed to take a shot of their final bow, I’ve used it as today’s header.
Debbie (from Sydney, see Posts 165 and 166 of last autumn as well as Post 66 from January 2020) arrived in London for a few days the next day, so we had to think of a couple of events to take her to. The first was one of our favourite places, Crazy Coqs / Zedel, where we saw a cabaret then had dinner then had cocktails. The following night we saw the musical the Book of Mormon. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see it: although the reviews are very enthusiastic, I wasn’t sure about the subject matter. It almost wasn’t a problem: when we got to the entrance they told us our tickets were for the wrong month. (JD had noticed this as soon as he had received confirmation and corrected it at the time but this had not processed). Of course, we only had them on our phones, not hard copies. After a bit of discussion with the box office they let us in. We were so glad as we had a hilarious night. In the famous words of Ray Stevens ‘Don’t look Ethel’. (Amazing to think that this song was a #1 hit in 1974). There was no actual nudity but a lot of very rude words.
Debbie then left and we set off for a Windsor Castle dinner, courtesy of University of Surrey, my alma mater. We mix in fine circles! (Although you might wonder if we are really distinguished, as specified on the invitation). We were not allowed to take photos (we did spot someone surreptitiously doing so but did not say anything). An official photographer, Ian Jones, was there so here are a couple of us that he took. These are his copyright.
The event was hosted by HRH the Duke of Kent (Surrey’s Chancellor), who is the late Queen’s paternal first cousin. In October this year he’ll be 90 years old and is still working. He shook our hands (told you we were distinguished): I’ve not washed it since! The event was to thank sponsors of the university’s fundraising campaign ‘The Future Says Surrey’ which started in 2022 and aimed to raise £60 million in three years, partly for students who otherwise might not be able to go to university: the part of the funding that we support. In the end they raised more than £70 million.
Two days later we were at the Southbank to attend an LPO rehearsal plus the evening concert of ‘An Alpine Symphony’ by Richard Strauss. Not quite Groundhog Day but, coming to a rehearsal in the morning then the concert in the evening, we decided to dedicate the day to the Southbank Centre.
We grabbed a cab early, before breakfast, which dropped us off at the Royal Festival Hall in time for the rehearsal. First problem: the lift was out of order. Second problem: we arrived before the building even opened. Third problem: there were roadworks so we had a LONG walk around the building before we even realised we couldn’t get in. Making a virtue out of whatever it is, we walked along the riverfront to Giraffe, an all-day diner (not sure they call themselves that) and had breakfast to fortify us for the day ahead. Once we were able to enter, this was almost the first thing to greet us. Despite not wearing any of this we managed to get in.
There is a lift in the RFH that sings to you as you go up. I thought they’d added a new sound as there was a brass fanfare when it stopped at the floor and the doors opened. It was in fact the brass section practicing for the concert, outside the hall, where they play for the concert itself (‘sounds off’). You can see them here (just).
A few unusual instruments are used in this symphony: wind machine, thunder sheet and Heckelphone. I think I could manage the wind machine; you just have to turn a handle. Although he obviously had to read the music to know when to join in, plus knowing the speed with which to turn the handle. Maybe the thunder sheet, it looks just like a sheet of metal you shake? I’d love to see the music instructions for these two. Maybe I’ll leave it to them. There is a short YouTube video from the LPO of the wind machine in action if you’re interested. Ooh, I’ve just watched it and it shows the score. A wobbly line, but it does tell you when to get faster and slower.
I can’t find one from the LPO of the thunder sheet but here’s a short clip from another orchestra (playing the same piece I think) plus you can see it in my next photo. The thing that looks a bit like a drum to the right is the wind machine.
I thought the Heckelphone might be something you use to call up your mates and make fun of them, but no, it’s named after Johann Adam Heckel, a German instrument maker, who met Richard Wagner when he was composing Die Meistersinger in 1862. The instrument is a sort of oboe with a blob on the bottom, with three holes from which the sound emerges. There’s a history with more technical stuff here plus a picture of it:
I think this (below) has to be the most detailed and specialist link I have ever given you (and I know I’ve given you quite a few). Enjoy (haha).
https://www.heckelphone.org/list.html
The second half of the rehearsal was the first half of the concert (keep up). There was a bit of excitement when a walkie-talkie belonging to a member of the staff could be heard in the background. No one could track it down so the rehearsal went ahead with added background sound.
The pianist was meant to be a young Russian but she was stuck in Spain with delays to her visa, so instead we had Steven Osborne. Watching him in both the rehearsal and concert felt like a privilege. If I threw my arms around like that I’d never find the keyboard, let alone the right note. (I didn’t manage to get him in full flight, unfortunately).
An Arabic proverb I’m glad I didn’t know when I started my piano and Mandarin lessons: Learning in childhood is like engraving in stone, learning in old age is like writing in sand (or water). I must remember that plus remind myself I’m not after perfection, they are both hobbies and for enjoyment.
Between the morning and early evening events, I had thought we could wander around the RFH and enjoy browsing the books and gift shop. I had, however, forgotten that it was half term. We found seats overlooking the river on level 4: even there, the sound of excited children screaming along to whatever activities they were participating in was deafening.
Talking of unwanted noises, we added our own. I have mentioned JD’s Pink Bag but never shown it to you (Post 163 dated August 2024). Here they are. It’s not the sort of thing to take to a classical concert though, as every time you touch it, it rustles and you get glared at.
We decided to get away from the brats, sorry, children, by going to eat at the Skylon, a grown-up restaurant that was pretty empty and quiet. Asking for a table, we found out why: lunch had finished and dinner didn’t start for another hour. Oh well, there are plenty of places outside the hall. We thought Cote might be a good option, compared to the pizza and burger places. What sensible child eats fish or steak? As it happens, a great many when there’s a promotion and they eat free with their parents. The noise level was slightly lower but the noise makers were in closer proximity.
Even though it was only mid-afternoon, I decided I needed a cocktail. To show how I was feeling, you’ll be surprised to hear it was a Rose Negroni. But, you cry, you don’t even like negronis! Exactly, imagine how hounded I felt. The table next to us, three ‘women of a certain age’, were obviously feeling similarly stressed as they were knocking back espresso martinis (special ones with salted caramel syrup. I didn’t feel that desperate).
After the concert (better than the rehearsal as there were no interruptions and it was played in the programme order so we knew what we were listening to), we called in at The Archduke, under the arches by Waterloo station, for old times’ sake. By this time of night, I’ve forgotten the cocktails we had. All in all, a long day.
February wasn’t all gadding about, honest. The jigsaw I showed you in Post 167 of December last year continues apace, with Polly helping (or so she thinks). At least she isn’t interested in eating pieces, as a previous cat did.
As a reminder of the Mark Hix evening, I made a Hedge Maze: 45 ml gin, 15 ml vermouth, 7.5 ml Chartreuse. I should have used green Chartreuse but we only have yellow and I am trying to finish off some bottles. We did manage to empty two whisky bottles for Burns Night. It sounds impressive, but they each had less than an inch in the bottom so not much use bringing them out when we have company. Maybe the next cocktails will consist of the bottles that need emptying? I could rearrange them in order of fullness. Picture coming….
George and John's boating trip no longer 