Today
Absolutely exhausting few days, rehearsing for and singing in the Classical Spectacular concerts at the Albert Hall. I'm one of a loosely formed 100-strong choir named The English Concert Chorus and a few times a year we provide the choral element at these concerts.
I'm beginning to know a few folk and my way around and it's quite fun to sing away at the top of your voice in all these old pot-boilers. You know, Zadok the Priest, Aida choruses (choose between slaves or soldiers), bits of Carmina Burana. A great "Can Belto" occasion.
Of course, to make it spectacular, there has to be audience participation in such favourites as Jerusalem, Rule Britannia (the soloist usually saunters on draped in a Union flag) and Land of Hope and Glory.
There are canons for the 1812 overture, fireworks for no reason at all, a laser and light show. 100s of red, white and blue balloons cascade down at the end and everyone (including the choir) is issued with yet more Union flags to wave.
And the audience loves it.
In My Day
I spent the summers of my late teens at the Albert Hall (AKA the Great Jelly of London) at The Proms. I used to buy a book of tickets and then fund my travel by selling those I didn't want to use. I probably went to about 25 concerts during August-September. We queued outside door 2 and quite a lively social scene developed.
How we despised those who came along sedately and actually sat in seats. Door 2 opened a few minutes before door 15 (where the on-the-door tickets were sold) so that we regulars had a fair chance of being at the front. The doors would open and we'd all career down the stairs and along the corridors to bag a place "on the rail".
Of course we all did the last night. This was always crowded so you turned up the day before at about 1.00 pm with your sleeping bag and flask. Because you couldn't be expected to stay at your place in the queue all the time, there was a list system in force. You actually slept (or tried to) on the pavement and hoped that there'd be no rain, or if there was, that it wouldn't blow under the canopy.
And we all sang away lustily to LOH&G, Jerusalem, RB etc. We clapped madly to the Hornpipe and swayed rhythmically together in the slow bits (until officials who feared the power of 2000 youngsters all clapping and swaying in time would damage the fabric of the building stopped it...) and threw streamers over the orchestra.
It always signalled the end of a great summer of friendship and music and wasn't an object in itself.
No fireworks, though!
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Friday, March 09, 2007
Not Mushroom Inside
Today
Splendid breakfast this morning. Four big flat mushrooms, sliced, gently fried in butter with wild thyme and black onion seeds. All served with toasted rye bread. Very nice way to start the day.
I bought the mushrooms at the local Tesco. I could've had: Flat mushrooms, closed cup mushrooms (standard or Value) chestnut (small or flat),Portobello, Button, Porcini, Shitake mushrooms or a selection pack of several varieties.
I read an article recently that suggested that we are excessively spoiled for choice in our food buying and harking back to the old days where you had what you were given and put up with it. I don't agree: greater choice adds to variety and fun in my cooking and diet.
In My Day
Mamma would buy 1/4lb mushrooms. They were always the same: middle-sized closed cup.
Splendid breakfast this morning. Four big flat mushrooms, sliced, gently fried in butter with wild thyme and black onion seeds. All served with toasted rye bread. Very nice way to start the day.
I bought the mushrooms at the local Tesco. I could've had: Flat mushrooms, closed cup mushrooms (standard or Value) chestnut (small or flat),Portobello, Button, Porcini, Shitake mushrooms or a selection pack of several varieties.
I read an article recently that suggested that we are excessively spoiled for choice in our food buying and harking back to the old days where you had what you were given and put up with it. I don't agree: greater choice adds to variety and fun in my cooking and diet.
In My Day
Mamma would buy 1/4lb mushrooms. They were always the same: middle-sized closed cup.
We only ever had mushrooms with our Sunday breakfast which was also the only day when we had a cooked breakfast. Egg, Bacon, Tomato, fried bread. Mamma would wash the mushrooms and pop them into the frying pan after everything else had been cooked and removed, put on a lid, turn off the stove and let them cook in the residual heat.
Given that there were 6 of us, I probably got about 1 1/2 mushrooms. I do remember enjoying them, though.
On a holiday in Ireland 2 years ago, my brother in law picked some mushrooms from the side of the lane and cooked and ate them for his supper. Now that is a step too far for me!
Monday, March 05, 2007
Wallflower
Today
On Saturday Paul and I did our duty and attended the annual dance of the Somerset Association of Amateur Winemakers. It was, as always, run on a shoestring, but we put on our glad rags, packed a little supper and some wine and trotted off.
This year, apart from the fact that we were doing our duty and supporting our friends, we had another reason for going: to practise our dancing. Yes! We've been having ballroom dancing lessons. Every week we go to a class in Yeovil with about 30 other couples and are learning to put together the waltz, cha-cha, foxtrot and jive.
So, even though the quality of the music was dubious, with the singer occasionally getting a note in tune, we actually did a waltz (twice) and foxtrot (once) for real! We managed not to look at our feet, could only do one step in the waltz and discovered that seasoned dancers, too, tend to cannon into one another when attempting to turn the corners in the foxtrot. Paul's look of intense concentration wasn't exactly romantic but I'm sure that'll pass.
In My Day
When I was about 13 I attended ballroom dancing classes on Saturday mornings in Croydon. I don't know whose idea it was but I went with a bunch of other girls from school. I've an idea that there were also boys attending, but I didn't know any of them and anyway, they never asked me to dance. So I usually partnered another girl and circled the room. We all shuffled about, equally badly. We learnt waltz, cha-cha, tango, quickstep. I remember the day when the male instructor took me for the quickstep. We had the floor to ourselves and he steered me along with a magnificent sweeping movement. I felt as though I'd sprouted wings - this was what it was about!
With all this, there was actually never an opportunity to put it into practice. Social occasions rarely involved dancing at all (since I wasn't a debutante!) and when they did, everyone just jiggled around like ungainly spiders. And anyway, no-one ever asked me to dance.
I'm looking forward to our weekend at Burgh Island in June where there will be real dancing. This time, not only will we be able to do it, I won't be a wallflower.
On Saturday Paul and I did our duty and attended the annual dance of the Somerset Association of Amateur Winemakers. It was, as always, run on a shoestring, but we put on our glad rags, packed a little supper and some wine and trotted off.
This year, apart from the fact that we were doing our duty and supporting our friends, we had another reason for going: to practise our dancing. Yes! We've been having ballroom dancing lessons. Every week we go to a class in Yeovil with about 30 other couples and are learning to put together the waltz, cha-cha, foxtrot and jive.
So, even though the quality of the music was dubious, with the singer occasionally getting a note in tune, we actually did a waltz (twice) and foxtrot (once) for real! We managed not to look at our feet, could only do one step in the waltz and discovered that seasoned dancers, too, tend to cannon into one another when attempting to turn the corners in the foxtrot. Paul's look of intense concentration wasn't exactly romantic but I'm sure that'll pass.
In My Day
When I was about 13 I attended ballroom dancing classes on Saturday mornings in Croydon. I don't know whose idea it was but I went with a bunch of other girls from school. I've an idea that there were also boys attending, but I didn't know any of them and anyway, they never asked me to dance. So I usually partnered another girl and circled the room. We all shuffled about, equally badly. We learnt waltz, cha-cha, tango, quickstep. I remember the day when the male instructor took me for the quickstep. We had the floor to ourselves and he steered me along with a magnificent sweeping movement. I felt as though I'd sprouted wings - this was what it was about!
With all this, there was actually never an opportunity to put it into practice. Social occasions rarely involved dancing at all (since I wasn't a debutante!) and when they did, everyone just jiggled around like ungainly spiders. And anyway, no-one ever asked me to dance.
I'm looking forward to our weekend at Burgh Island in June where there will be real dancing. This time, not only will we be able to do it, I won't be a wallflower.
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