Random Jottings

Cardiff Singer of the World - the Final

OK I am still sticking with the Chilean lady but but but the English soprano, Elizabeth Watts turned in the most magnificent all round performance and might just pip her at the post. However, I have a feeling that the jury might go for the Chinese bass baritone who is also simply stunning.  There are two that I think will NOT win, the Australian soprano and the Hungarian bass, and it is out of the other three.

I am going to stick with Isabel from Chile but it is nip and tuck all the way

I will let you know in about 15 minutes if I was wrong or right - I am posting this now as I said I would be honest and let you know if I had picked the wrong one.  No cheating!

My feeling was correct - the jury went with the Chinese bass baritone!  He is only 24 - but then so was Bryn when he won it.

Fantastic competition and now I have to wait two years for the next one - think I will start saving and see if I can go to it in Cardiff - for the whole week. 

Cardiff Singer of the World - Part Quatre

Should think you are all getting pretty bored by this now but pretend I am writing about the Booker Prize and I am working my way through the long list and perhaps that will make it better...

The last heat took place last night and this one was a corker.  I mentioned that I had not yet seen The One.  Well, I think last night might have produced the winner, we shall see.  There were some simply great performances.  One young baritone, Jacques Imbralio, started off with a fiendish Handel aria that did him no favours, then the serenade from Don Giovanni which was better and then finished off with a simply wonderful rendition of the big baritone aria from Queen of Spades by Tchaikovsky.  This was his repertoire and showed off a warm, rounded tone and sung with great feeling.  I felt his choice for this evening let him down and he did not pick music that really enabled him to produce his best.

To cut a very long waffle short, the first lady out, a Chilean mezzo, Maria Isabel Vera took the stage and gosh what a voice.  The tingle factor was definitely there and she was very very good indeed.  Then later on, an Australian soprano, Miranda Keys, came out (a lady of traditional build I have to say) and was also equally stunning so I had to have a rethink, but plumped for the Chilean mezzo and was delighted when she won, thus keeping me with a clean score sheet.

The winner of each heat does not necessarily go through to the final.  The singers are chosen on their overall performance throughout the week and also the singing competition takes place in which they have to show a totally different side of their repertoire.  I had made a list of the five I thought should go through and was delighted when Edward Seckerson (music criitc of the Independent) came up with exactly the same list.  Isn't it nice when a critic says the same as a blogger? (OK Elaine don't labour the point).

The five were then announced and lo and behold Edward and I were right and there they were.  I really will have to write to congratulate him on his perspicacity.....

So, I am going to put my money where my mouth is and plump for the Chilean mezzo as the ultimate winner, with perhaps a caveat that Miranda Keys might might do it.  Maria Isabel Vera is singing a lot of Verdi in the final and ending with O don fatale from Don Carlos which is a show stopper for a mezzo. Miranda is ending up with another fantastic performance of a big aria complete with stunning cabaletta from Attila, also by Verdi.  Unless I am completely wrong, I think it will be a battle of the ladies.  Though the Chinese bass baritone is also marvellous.  Oh dear I am dithering.....  We shall see but it all depends on who turns it on when they walk on stage at the final.  It is always exciitng so fingers crossed.

I will return to books etc after this weekend.  I have had a pretty bad week workwise so have just come home and slumped on the sofa watching these heats each night, so not much reading done, but I now have a couple of weeks off now and I intend to rectify the sitaution.

Cardiff Singer of the World - Part Trois

OK 100% picking the nightly winner still intact, but as tonight's winner seemed pretty obvious to everyone, I certainly don't think I have used magical powers of insight.  Having said this, however, the jury took ages to choose so they obviously thought differently though they came to the right conclusion in the end.  The audience might have made their feelings known if they had chosen differently.

Lovely coloratura soprano, beautiful warm voice, lovely looking as well, Marie Moriya.  La Sonnambula gorgeous, Gilda's aria from Rigoletto a tad careful I thought, but she won the evening by a terrific performance of the first act aria of the Queen of the Night in Magic Flute whch showed off total control of her bvoice.

Still have not seen THE one yet in my opinion, but you never know, one of them might suddenly blossom on finals night and turn in the performance of the competition.  It has happened before, though ususally the winner is pretty clear early on.  Not this year though.

Crock of the Day

Too tired tonight to write about anything and my wrist is aching so I am pulling out a crock from my never ending library of same.

Ok we are into bowls now.  Fear not, I have loads more cups and saucers around but I just thought a bowl would make a nice change.

This is one of my favourites.  Found it at a jumble sale for 50p - this was some years ago of course, nowadays a bowl like this would be sold at a car boot sale and probably cost at least £8.  I always prided myself on never paying more than £2 for any piece of china at these sales and managed to accumulate a lot.  Always enjoyed putting strawberries in this one.

This one looks good with green apples in - it is getting a bit cracked and blotchy now but I am very fond of it.  I have been using it for some 30 years and has managed to survive children and cats so it is doing well.

That's your lot for today.  Long way to go yet before I reach the end of all my accumulated crocks.

Tee hee

Cardiff Singer of the World - Part Deux

In my earlier post I said a singer had to have IT.  They could be great singers but they needed this extra sometning.  Last night there was a terrific Canadian/Korean counter tenor who had it in abundance, total showman and everyone loved him.  He won his heat.

Tonight there was a Chinese baritone, who made your hair stand on end.  He had IT no worries.  He sang Han Sach's aria from the last act of Die Meistersinger and for a 23 year old sung it with such maturity, brilliant German, and the most warm round gorgeous tone.  I thought my heavens this guy is only 23, and then of course remembered that Bryn Terfel was only 24 when he was in this competition.  Maria Ewing, a former opera singer, was one of the commentators tonight and she phrased my IT comment more felicitously 'great artists are born not made' and then went on to say 'you have either got it or you haven't' and I though whoopee yes she agrees with me!

So far I have maintained my 100% record of picking each evening's winner.  Let's see what tomorrow brings.

Great evening though I missed a bit of it as my digital box, which has been slightly wobbly recently, broke down.  The on/off swtich which has always been dodgy got totally jammes and in trying to loosen it up, I ended up sticking the screwdriver deep in the bowels of the machine and killed it stone dead.  Shock horror, so into car, whizzed down to a large electronic store down by the station which luckily is open till 8 pm, charged in at 7.55 waving plastic, grabbed digi box off shelf, paid for it, drove home, plugged it all in and sat back to watch this evening's heat.

Phew.

Dark Hearts of Chicago

Random House very kindly sent me a copy of this after I wrote and asked - have not quite got used to this lark or the thought that publishers might want to send me books.  I still think they have made a mistake and that I am a fraud.  However, this duly arrived and last weekend when I was in the horizontal position with back I decided to use my time well and pitch in. 

The book is a joint collaboration between William Horwood and Helen Rappaport, both of whom I had heard of separately, but never together and I gather this is the first of what they hope will be a series featuring the intrepid woman reporter Emily Strauss.  This story is set in Chicago at the time of the 1893 World Fair and as I have just returned from that city, it really helped to set the story in its correct location.  Mention of going to have tea in the restaurant at Marshall Fields which is what Bluestalking Reader and I did one afternoon, mention of the Elevated Railway, the El, which fascinated me when walking around the streets, all these helped me to enjoy the story more than normal.

Emily Strauss is sent to Chicago with an assignment to investigate the number of young women who have gone missing during the Fair, and whose fate has been hushed up as it is bad for the city's image.  In particular, she is seeking Anna Zemeckis, a young Latvian girl who went there to stay with her relatives and whose body turned up after she went missing from her home.  It appeared she had met her death in a street car accident.  But had she?  Was the body really hers?   and where had she been in the missing weeks?  Emily Strauss plunges into the dark side of Chicago and meets danger, poverty and squalor everywhere but also some unexpected allies and friends where she least expects it. To my utter delight, about one third through the book, Emily was invited to an at home in a house in Astor Street.  Oh my goodness I thought, I wonder if....and yes it was, the house now known as the Charnley-Persky House, designed by Louis Sullivan and Frank Lloyd Wright.  It was just round the corner from where I had been staying and I had visited it one morning and been taken on a tour by an incredibly knowledgeable and enthusiastic guide. So, when I read this chapter I knew exactly where each character was standing and it was such a thrill.

"I like this house' said Emily gazing up at the simply rectangular windows on the double wing front elevation and the fascinating piered balcony along the central part of the second floor".

"What she found inside took her breath away even more.  Beautiful clean lines of plain painted walls, paneled dados and exquisite arched doorways into room over room, subtly lit from a three story atrium that rose over thirty foot from the ground floor"

"Such colour and variety as there was came from Louis Sullivan's intricate pastel decorations and Arts and Crafts Metalwork"

Visiting the house was one of the highlights of my visit earlier this year so to find it featured in this book gave an added fillip to my reading. I will not say much about the story as it really is a mystery and I do not want to give anything away but this is a stonking good read and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Throughout this story the city of Chicago in all its teeming, noisy, splendour provides a wonderful backdrop.  I really recommend you get hold of a copy and just sit down and enjoy a happy afternoon being absorbed and thrilled. There are several narrative strands running throughout so that you, the reader, knows what each character is thinking and feeling.  They criss cross each other around the Windy City and you will find yourself on the edge of your seat as Emily gets out of one scrape after another in her quest to find out the truth.   My daughter who is off on holiday soon asked if I had a book I could recommend to take with her so tomorrow I am going to pop this in the post to her as I know she will love it.

Ex Libris very kindly brought along her copy of  The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson when we met up in April. which is the story of the Chicago World Fair, its designers and architects and the true story of a murderer who used 'his satanic charms to lure scores of young women to their death'.   Ooo-er!  Bet this was used as background reading for the authors.

So I am in the middle of a Chicago-fest at the moment and as I intend to return in 2008 the more I read about this great place, the better.

Cardiff Singer of the World 2007

When this competition first started over 20 years ago the BBC trumpeted it far and wide, gave copious space to it in the Radio Times and broadcast two hours each evening on BBC1 of the heats so that by the time the final came round we had all had a chance to watch each singer and to make our own choice. As the years passed by and the BBC swapped its personnel the station reflected the choice of its then Head and gradually this competition was squeezed out.  By the time Greg Dyke took over it had practically vanished and had to be searched for on the schedules and we were allowed to see the final on BBC2 only.  Then digital came in and it was sent over to BBC4 working on the then premise that nobody had digital so nobody would see it.  The same thing happened to the Proms.  Once upon a time you could always rely on at least one or two Proms a week being broadcast either live, or recorded, from the Albert Hall, but these started diminishing in number as well.

As I lived in a block of flats with no Sky, no decent aerial and no desire on the part of the management company to do anything about it, I was doomed to missing out on my favourite programmes.  I harassed the Services Manager relentlessly and demanded that they do something about the aerial and in the end they did (I suspect it was mainly to shut me up as I told them that I would not take no for an answer as they had to justify their extortionate service charge).  In the end we got a brand new state of the art aerial, I rushed out and bought a digital box and though the supplier warned me that I might not be able to receive all the programmes, found that I could.

Therefore, last summer I was able to watch Proms practically every night, broadcasts of the Ring from Covent Garden and now the nightly heats of this year's Cardiff competition.  As readers of this blog well know, I am a total devotee of Bryn Terfel who I first spotted on this competition when he was 24.  He came out and sang the first act aria of the Flying Dutchman and just nailed the audience to the floor.  I decided then and there that when he sang his first Wotan, which I knew he would do some day, I would be there to see it and I was, some 20 years later.  His Brunnhilde was Lisa Gasteen, another winner of this competition, who when she came out on the final night and sang Pace Pace from La Forza del Destino by Verdi, produced such a terrific performance that there was no doubt that she would win. I met her backstage last year after Die Walkure and a more down to earth, chatty person you could not hope to meet.  I told her that I had seen her win this competition and she said it was, and always would be, one of the most exciting evenings of her life.

Another winner was Karitta Mattila, who I saw in Un Ballo in Maschera at Covent Garden last year and of course, the wonderfully gorgeous Dmitri (gosh aren't I the most sexy thing you have ever seen and don't I know it) Hvorostovsky who I have seen as Onegin and stunning he is too.  Just wish he preened a little less.

So far, every time I have watched I have picked the winner, except one year when the jury made a decision that left everyone aghast.  That singer has since sunk without trace.  I am not boasting or saying that I have any special talent for spotting the winner.  Quite simply, what it boils down to in the end, is IT.  Singers either have it or they do not.  You can have the most wonderful voice in the world, but lack IT. What IT does is make you tingle, makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, makes you leap about with excitement.  And the thing is, that at home watching on television, when you feel this, you just know the audience feels the same. 

Tonight's winner was Elizabeth Watts a wonderful British singer with a creamy voice, great personality and a marvelous performer.  One of the commentators said he felt the 'tingle' when he listened to her.  I did not though I thought she would get through tonight.  So, this week is going to be really interesting and I shall see if I can pick the winner again. 

I shall be very honest and tell you if I am wrong.  promise.

Vertical Jottings

Calloo Callay o frabjous day, I am upright once more!  Climbed crab like into bed last night after red hot bath, what felt like horse liniment rubbed in to the offending part of anatomy (brought tears to the eyes I can tell you) and hot water bottle also strapped on said part.  Went to sleep feeling as if I was in a sauna but when I woke up this morning and cautiously moved in bed found to my utter relief that the shooting pain of the weekend had vanished.  OK so I feel as if somebody has kicked me violently in the back and I am gently aching, but oh the sheer joy of being able to stand up straight.  Am at home for the day though as I do not wish to sit on the low slung seats of my commute train until the back has had another 24 hours rest.

I decided to have a lazy day reading newspapers and to that end took a gentle drive up to my local Co-op supermarket and duly loaded up with three or four.  This is a luxury I never have time to indulge in so was looking forward to curling up on sofa and working my way through them.  Bought a few other sundries and duly got in check out queue.  Now at the Co-op before you are allowed to purchase any booze or fags or buy a lottery ticket you have to press a red buzzer at the check out to say you are over 21.  As the average age of the users of this particular supermarket appears to be in the 70s this is a tad redundant but rules is rules.  A gentleman of advanced years in front of me had a bottle of Merlot and when asked to duly press the buzzer did so with an air of pained resignation. Well, the button did not work. So the young man at the check out (who appeared to be about 12 but obviously I must be wrong) asked him to press it again. 

Still, no result. 'Well sir, I am afraid I cannot allow you to purchase this bottle of wine because I have no proof you are over 21'.  As the gentleman in question looked like he was about to clout him with his walking stick this brought about an outbreak of unbridled mirth.  'Why don't you try bashing it?' I asked.  'I usually kick the photocopier at my office and it works every time'  this was greeted with total horror by youth and then another customer chimed in 'oh go on darling give it a thump'  youth retorted that he could not do that and he would have to call his 'supervisor'  Queue had lengthened by this time and as my back had now started to play up again, I sat down on a chair and awaited the outcome.  Lengthy discussion on intercom about said problem and a few minutes later the supervisor arrived.  She also looked about12.  Youth told her of problem and, wait for it, I kid you not, she looked at him and said:

'Have you tried bashing it?'

I will draw a veil over the reaction of the customers except that by the time we reached the car park we had managed to wipe the tears out of our eyes and our hysteria had abated somewhat.

This totally made my day and I came back home in a really happy mood.  Coffee made, papers to hand and constant checking on computer to see how we are doing in the cricket.  As I feared, the West Indies are fighting back and we are in danger of that old snatching defeat from the jaws of victory thing again.  In theory the Windies have to get 107 runs to win and we have to get 3 wickets.  So we should do it.

One hour later:  West Indies now only have to get 79 runs to win

Ahem...

Horizontal Jottings

This is where a laptop comes into its own as I am having to spend the weekend in a horizontal position flat on my back.  Not for any other reason which may fleetingly cross your mind, but because when I tried to get out of bed this morning I couldn't.  Back went into spasm and all efforts to obtain an upright stance resulted in shrieks of pain from mois.  Stoic - yep that is me.

Had promised to take my mother (AKA The Aged P) shopping this morning and knew that she would be up and ready with hat and make up on so could not let her down and managed to gradually get on the move, have a cup of tea and then off.  Well, I managed the shop by spending most of the trip round Tesco leaning heavily on the trolley but by the time I had driven home was feeling not so good. 

I spent the afternoon on the sofa thinking I would watch the final of the French Tennis Championships Ladies Singles, but it was just so boring I fell asleep with hot water bottle on lower back, window wide open to let the overpowering aroma of embrocation dispel and did not wake up for three hours, by which time my back had locked totally.  Getting off the sofa involved a convoluted process whereby I rolled over onto the floor onto my hands and knees and gradually and incredibly slowly hauled myself up the wall inch by inch.  At the moment my gait is that of Quasimodo. As I have spent the last two weekends painting and climbing up ladders and laying kitchen floors, I have only myself to blame so I am writing this with the computer resting on my lap which is marvellously flat and firm, until I stand up of course when it then shoots south.

So, no writing of any merit today (no comments please) but here is a picture of the books I have purchased this week and which have arrived in separate deliveries at work on three days running and cheered me up immensely. 

Monday - Amanda Grange Mr Knightley's Diary - after Mr Darcy's Diary no way could I resist this and Captain Wentworth's Diary will be on way soon when it is published. Then another Lord Peter Wimsey book by Jill Paton Walsh which will be fun and The Orchard Book of Opera Stories by Adele Geras which she mentioned to me after noting I was an opera fan.  These are stories retold for children and are quite beautifully illustrated.  All these came courtesy of Amazon.

Tuesday -Then Two lovely books from Fidra, including The House Called Hadlows by Victoria Walker, the sequel to Winter of Enchantment which I know I am going to love, and a book by Mabel Esther Allen.  Now there is a name to conjour instant nostalgia for me.  I used to raid my children's library three or four times a week and twice on Saturday and I think I read every one of hers going, so to discover them being reprinted is heaven.

Wednesday - Is it True what they say about Shakespeare? by Stanley Wells, who we all know from Susan Hill's Blog as SP.  Have dipped into this.  Full of interesting facts and answering questions about the Bard along the lines of He Couldn't Spell his own name - who says so? and His First Job in the theatre was holding the heads of horses for Patrons - who says so?  and then providing the likely answer based on the evidence available. Fascinating and signed by the Great Man himself so I am really pleased with this acquisition.

Nothing arrived on Thursday and Friday which was a tad lowering but hit the jackpot today.  I had to go and pick up a parcel from my local post office about which I had totally forgotten and of course, it was books.  These were from Fortune Green Books and Jill who owns this treasure trove sends out catalogues every month of which I am a recipient.  I have been pipped at the post sometimes for books I want as by the time I call it is in the evening some ravening book hound has got there before me.  This time the catalogue arrived on a day off so I was able to ring quickly and was able to knobble the two I  wanted.  These are Scribbling Women - Short Stories by 19th century American Women selected and introduced by Elaine Showalter.  Authors included are Louisa May Alcott, Susan Glaspell, Edith Wharton, Kate Chopin, Willa Cather,  all of whom are known to me, but there are others whose names are not so familiar and I am looking forward to discovering their writing - Harriet Prescott Spoffard, Constance Fenimore Woolson and others.

Then Wonderful Sphinx a biography of Ada Leverson by Julie Speedie.  I discovered Ada Leverson last November when I came home from a local annual book sale clutching one of those wonderful old Viragos with the fantastic covers, The Little Ottleys.  I purchased it purely because I loved the picture on the front (current Virago marketing editors please note) and found this to be a delightful read.  I have blgged abut it  Here  so will not repeat myself, so when I saw this in the catalogue I had to have it.  It is also a Virago, but in hardback and in very very good condition with dust jacket. 

So a good week.  I also purchased the new Sir Paul McCartney CD, Memory Almost Full and an album of the Dubliners Greatest Hits.  I have a great fondness for this group and Virgin records were playing it when I popped in in for Sir P so came out with that as well.

Now, refill of hot water bottle and back to the sofa.  I think instant meal shoved in microwave tonight will have to do and will be watching the Cricket at 7.15 pm.  England are doing rather well, I shall start getting used to this if they are not careful, but I gather Kevin Petersen was out when the ball hit his helmet, it fell off and knocked the bails off the stumps........

My Family and other Animals

This is one of those books that has lurked on the periphery of my reading all my life.  I have lost count of the number of times I have stamped this book in and out when working in the library system, or put it back on the shelves.  It is one of those 'I really must read this some day' books that tend to get pushed to the back of the pile because you are too busy catching up on the latest big thing.  NewBooksMag have started a new project Is the Film as Good as the Book and sent me a DVD of My Family and Other Animals to watch and review.

Well, that meant that it would be a really good idea if I read the book first so nipped out to Waterstones when I just happened to be meandering by the other week (as you do) and picked up a copy.  As you will know if you have read my riveting weekend blog, I spent two hours in bed on Sunday morning absolutely helpless with laughter while reading this hilarious account of the time the Durrell family moved to Corfu.  At times I had to put it down while I wiped the tears out of my eyes.

Very very difficult to define a funny book or what it is that can make the reader laugh.  Another book which always makes me hoot is Diary of a Provincial Lady by EM Delafield and yet when I try and explain why, I am stumped.  You just have to read it to find out why.  It is elusive, it is in the writing, the play of words, oh I am sure you all know what I mean.

The Durrells decamped to Corfu after a dreary summer In Bournemouth where it was grey and cold and rained all day so off they went.  The casual ease with which they just upped and set sail (metaphorically speaking) to this Greek island left me extremely envious.  One assumes that some money must have been lurking somewhere.  Anyway they find a battered old villa to rent once they have been befriended by Spyros, an English speaking islander who learned his English in Chicago and sounds like Al Capone. 

Larry the elder of the four children is vastly superior and languid and spends all his time being scornful and high minded.  Leslie, second son, is obsessed with guns and shooting and seems to spend most of his days in slaughtering the wildlife in Corfu, Margaret has acne and a complex about it but seems to manage to find romance, and Gerald (Gerry) Durrell, the youngest is in paradise.  He adores wildlife, insect life, beetles, bats, cockroaches, tortoises, dogs, jackdaws, in short - everything that crawls, flies and swims and he spends days and weeks exploring the island and 'bringing a motley crew of snakes, scorpions, birds and toads into the family villa'.

One of my favourites out of all the animal characters we meet is a Tortoise called Achilles:

"He was a most intelligent and lovable beast, possessed of a peculiar sense of humour.......he loved wild strawberries and would become positively hysterical at the mere sight of them, lumbering to and fro, craning his head to see if you were going to give him any, gazing at you pleadingly with his tiny boot-button eyes........he developed a passion for human company.Let anyone come into the garden to sit to read or for any other reason, there would be a rustling among the sweet williams and Achille's wrinkled and earnest face would be poked throuhg"

Gerry then finds two huge toads.

"They were grayish green with curious white patches here and there on their bodies where the skin was shiny and lacking in pigment.  They squatted there like two obese leprous Buddhas......the toads blinked their fine golden filigreed eyes at me and settling themselves more comfortably on my fingers, gazing at me trustfully, their wide thick lipped mouths seeming to spread in embarrassed and uncertain grin"   

Gerry was delighted with them, but his family were not so keen..

This book is packed with stories and anecdotes of the daily eccentricities and sheer FUN of the Durrell family's life during the five years the spent in Corfu.  And though I laughed and laughed, please don't think it is all just written to get you giggling and that it might be a bit over the top.  This thought had crossed my mind but then you come across a descriptive passage like this:

"The moon rose above the mountains, turned the lilies to silver except where the flickering flames illuminated them with a flush of pink.  The tiny ripples sped over the moonlight sea and breathed with relief as they reached the shore at last.  Owls started to chime in the trees, and in the gloomy shadows fireflies gleamed as they flew, their jade green, misty lights pulsing on an off...... the boats gathered speed and headed along the coastline and beyond our wash fanned out, white and delicate as a spider's web on the dark water, flaming here and there with a momentary spark of phosphorescence"

Beautiful.

I shall now watch the DVD and see what I think.  I am pretty sure it will be fun and it will be good, but can it capture this wonderful evocative feeling of a Greek island?  Well, I will soon find out.

Well it didn't.  Lots of wild over acting, every character a total eccentric and the most irritating background music I have ever heard.  Did not let up for a second.  Oh dear