Oh no!

It’s that empty feeling; cold, a slight ache and a sick realization that time lost will not be made up.  Everything will have to be done again.

My reintroduction to the delights of study with the Open University is drawing near.  The course officially starts on the 3^rd of November, while the web site for my course opens on United Nations Day.  A day as I say each year is known only to the Secretary General of that august organization and my humble self – and of course those who I have been able to corrupt with my individual view of life and what is important.

So the course is, as it were, coursing towards me and I am eager to give myself something of a head start because, if previous study with the OU has taught me anything it is that “events, dear boy, events” (thank you yesterday’s book for reminding me of that useful phrase) inevitably jump up from nowhere and disrupt even the most painstaking of self-learners – and I am not one of those.  So, any little advantage that I can gain is worth garnering.

Taking the point of least effort, and knowing that it was a part (albeit a late part) of the course, I decided to re-read Hard Times.  Hardly an imposition for me.  I think that I probably have the edition which is stipulated by the OU, but I preferred to download a free copy from the Internet and read that on my I-pad.

As I read I learned how to highlight and then make electronic notes and spent a delightful time enjoying the writing and feeling smug that I was already well into a major part of the course.

With the printer out of action and being far too lazy to go up to the rain drenched Third Floor to find another one, I printed out nothing preferring to wait for the missing part of the new printer to be replaced.

This part was, surprisingly read for me to collect today, well within the two-week period that I was threatened with when I took it back.

And, having updated my Kindle content making sure that the books were available on my computer and I-pad I decided to print out the work that I had already completed.

And I couldn’t find the book.  I searched through the electronic library and, as they searched, the more I looked the more it wasn’t there.  All the work gone.

I was loath to voice my despair because I feared that the updating of the Kindle app. on my computer had done all the trouble and I had wiped out what I had written.

Frantic clicks on various menus brought me no nearer to the missing volume and it wasn’t until I realized that I was looking in the wrong library and my thumping heart slowed down and I realized that the work was all still there.

I should by now, of course, have made a copy because who knows what might happen.  But I haven’t.  Those who believe in modern technology must have faith!

Today I wrote my first “story” for Irene to use with the kids that she teaches.  These take the form of two page efforts of about 500 words with two simple English exercises. 

Each “story” should have some clear grammatical object and, for the younger children should be written in the present tense.  It was an interesting exercise and I am looking forward to Irene’s feedback.  If it is positive then I have said that I will try and write a “story” a day for the next week or so, so that we can have a body of “work” to discuss before it is presented to the kids. 

Who knows, there might even be a book in it!

Rain and reading

Torrential rain today and a consequent (and fully justified) disinclination to do anything other than read.

I have been gripped by a downloaded impulse buy book as dangled temptingly before me by the ever-ready leading hand of the Guardian.  The real trouble is that anything which looks interesting in the newspaper can be downloaded in an elongated moment through my Kindle.

The book which I have just finished reading is “Events, Dear Boy, Events” A Political Diary of Britain from Woolf to Campbell, edited and introduced by Ruth Winstone.  This is a sequential series of extracts from a hundred different diaries which makes for absolutely compulsive reading.  I have read it in very much the same way as I would have read a novel.  I recommend it without reservation – though if pressed I could probably make my own list of people and events that I would have liked included.

The delights in the writing are many.  I will only give a couple of examples as you should find the rest for yourselves and give the editor the benefit of some sort of payment.  However, who could resist Vera Brittain’s take on the Abdication Crisis and her take on the Duke of York becoming king, “I cannot believe that stiff, shy slow-brained man and his snobbish, limited little Duchess will do anything to increase the prestige of the monarchy.”  I love the description of the arrogant dwarf who I almost stepped on in an exhibition in the Royal Academy one time!

Gems like “The apocryphal and the mundane blend together at the Home Office like absinthe.  It blows your mind” and “It has been said that if a Labour conference makes you wonder why you are a member of the Labour Party, a Tory conference supplies you with the answer” fill the pages.  Pages you should read!

It is a highly partial reading of the political history of Britain but an exhilaratingly refreshing view.

Late night culture

After the opera was over last night and I attempted to find something to eat in a swathe of closed restaurants, I ended up back on the Ramblas and in a tapas restaurant that was fairly obviously just about to finish for the day.  However, I was welcomed with what seemed like real enthusiasm (or at least real feigned enthusiasm) and settled down to write my notes about the music and get something to fill the empty space left by not having lunch or dinner.

So, by quarter past midnight I had my first food since muesli that morning.  Good but expensive and basically unmemorable in spite of the rather overblown description of one of the dishes as being made with Cava!

What was much more memorable was a unique experience.  One of the waiters became quite chatty and told me a joke in Spanish of which the punch line was a pun in English!  That was a first for me.  The joke was, “What language do Irish lesbians speak?”  I will leave you to work out the answer.  Which like all puns should result in a groan!

As they gave me a cup of coffee on the house I might well go back there after the next opera, at least I can expect the place to be open.

“The Force of Destiny” was my first opera of the season and it started in an unexpected way as we were launched straight into the singing and we were denied the overture until the Marquis de Calatrava has been well and truly, if absurdly, killed and the whole bloody tragedy started.

However, before then I was angry that the small translation screen on the back of the chair in front was not and did not work so I was left labouring to remember the exact details of the ridiculously melodramatic and totally unconvincing story line from an uninspiring past performance in the dim and distant past and a very cursory reading of the on-line entry for the opera.

The acting was awful and it forced me to think about how I would have done the opera – always a bad sign I think!

The dramatic themes of the opera are timeless and as relevant now as ever, but the staging of the opera did little to make it as relevant as I think it could have been.

The killing of the marquis by the accidental firing of a gun as it was slammed down on the table got a muttered laugh and there were other occasions when the action provoked mirth rather than dramatic involvement.

The costumes were, I think, historically accurate for the period in which the action was originally set, but as the emerging motivations of class hatred, racism, revenge, upholding inappropriate ideas of family honour, militarism, religion, deception, hypocrisy and ethical justification all are mixed into the cauldron of emotion that is this piece one could not help but wonder at the missed opportunities that it offers for a more relevant presentation – though it would be a brave director indeed who set it in, say Pakistan and used the honour killing or cross cultural relationships to make sense of the dramatic opportunities!

There were some nice ideas in the setting as for example when the gauze walls containing the family portraits as seen in the opening scene before the overture were used as the “cave” in which the hermit Leonora was retired from the rest of the world – but literally hiding under the family tradition which eventually brought about her death.

The over life size crucifixion was also effective and provided a very dramatic focus, though the religious significance of the representation was ambiguous given the action of the opera. 

Perhaps the setting of the piece in a country like Mexico might be interesting with the emphasis on the drug cartels, the Roman church, native religion and the disparity between the classes.

There is a lot of work for the chorus (directed by José Luis Basso) in this piece and they rose to the challenge superbly – on stage and off they were a delight with power, subtlety and excellent musicality.

The crowd scenes were done efficiently, though the use of highly professional dancers were a slightly discordant note – though good to watch!

The orchestra under the direction of Renato Palumbo was outstanding with the accuracy and dynamics observed astonishing.

You will have noticed that I have not mentioned any of the soloists.  An omission which is slightly unfair as Leonora sung by Norma Fantini was excellent and Roberto de Candia as Father Melitone was also characterful, funny and assured.  Neither of the male leads convinced me and the tenor seemed to be to be under sung.

This was a competent and enjoyable production that left me wanting much more.  There was too much posturing of solid singers and not enough re-interpretation to revitalize the empty melodrama.

The audience in the theatre was predominantly old and middle class and I am not sure that anyone young and inexperienced in the cultural form would have been won over by this production.

Obviously I am not saying that all opera production should be geared towards the young first time opera goer – indeed I realize that what I am asking for is the sort of production which will appeal to those who know the piece and are familiar with the conventions of the genre but Baz Luhrmann filmic production of Romeo and Juliet shows what can be done without destroying the power of the original.

Nevertheless I am much looking forward to my next opera.  Dvorak and lots of tunes!

The past is popular

Popular wisdom says that one should not try to turn the clock back, but there again it also says that BoJo would make a good leader of a national political party – so what do they know.

The clock is fully turned back and I am now a fully registered undergraduate in the Open University and my first course will start on the third of next month. 

I have to be fair and admit that it is not the course that I would have chosen but the dates did not work out and I was a week too late to register so I had to compromise.

The compromise is that I am doing some sort of Arts course (of course) in which I will be concentrating on language and its uses ending up by the study of the nineteenth century and a reading of Hard Times by Dickens.

As a function of my keenness I have already re-read the book and, as I read it electronically I was able to highlight the passages that I found interesting and also make notes as I went along.

The great discovery was finding out that one quote from Dickens that I have been trying to pin down to a novel was in Hard Times and not, as I had previously thought in Bleak House. 

Mrs Gradgrind is an eternal invalid and when she finally has the good grace to enter into her dying phase of moaning she is asked if she is in pain, to which she replies, “I think there’s a pain somewhere in the room,  (. . . ) but I couldn’t positively say that I have got it.” 

That concept of “a pain somewhere in the room” is one that I can certainly relate to when one needs to describe a feeling of discomfort which is just short of pain but within the realm of conscious appreciation.  Dickens, as he does so often, adds a clear extra layer of experience through the creative use of language.

I have thoroughly enjoyed the re-reading and have been musing about a whole variety of themes and ideas that seem to underpin the novel.

More importantly I have also discovered how to print out what I have done and those sheets will go into the writing books that Toni and I have bought for our respective subjects.

After the meal with Irene a couple of day ago I also have to print out the stories that she sent me that she uses in her teaching.  The idea is that I attempt to write some simple grammar heavy stories that Irene can try out with the pupils and then, after I get a collection together, I try and peddle them to some publisher to see if there is any money to be made from them.

Toni has offered to do the drawings for them.  Which should be interesting.

Tomorrow is the start of the opera season – at least it is if you have the Season Ticket that I have.  I do not have tickets as such, just a plastic credit card which is “read” when I go into the Liceu and records that I have started my musical adventure.

Usually I have taken the car to the centre of Barcelona and have steeled myself to pay the exorbitant parking charges, so large sometimes that it really does take the edge off the enjoyment of the operatic experience.

I have therefore determined that I will find a cheap (!) hotel in Barcelona and spend the night of the concert in the city rather than wending my solitary way home in the early hours of the morning.

I also hope to find some sort of reasonably priced place to have a late night meal after the opera to make the whole thing worthwhile.  It says something for the cost of parking that the hotel room that I have found, which comes in at €30, seems like a good deal!

I also want to find a stamp shop n Barcelona so that I do not have to get pages for my First Day Covers from Britain – there has to be somewhere that can provide exactly what I want within the old part of the city.

I have had the sad news that an aunt of mine has died.  This means that of the husbands and wives of the three children of my maternal grandparents now, only Uncle Eric remains.  He is 93 and is sharp and politically aware and I think that I have more interesting conversations with him now that at any other time in my life – better late than never!

It does mean that I will probably be going back to Wales some time next week to join my cousin in the funeral.

It is a sad fact of life that when a person reaches a great age most of the friends and close relatives have died so that, unless there is a bustling, geometrically increasing series of next generations the congregation can be quite sparse.

I expect a healthy showing from the private school in which my aunt was a pupil and taught.  Until her death she was the oldest pupil/teacher and I think she rather revelled in her predominant longevity.  Her death closes a chapter.  I only hope that it opens another for my cousin.

The illness that Toni is at last combating – the one donated to him by his kindly and plague carrying family – is trying its best to latch on to me.  By sheer strength of will I am attempting to keep the depressing symptoms at bay until I can get my flu jab to give my defences a boost.

And anyway with opera and study and trips to the UK I have to be at my best and not sneezing my way along bent double with coughing.  I refuse to give in to the illness.  So there.

What is waiting for me now is attempting to bring some sort of order to the Third Floor; not the terrace but rather the cluttered chaos through which you have to pass to get out into the open air.

With the new printer being unworkable at the moment and the other workable and ink loaded machine flitting from place to place I have to pin it down and ensure that the pages that I need made concrete are done before tomorrow.

It is a sad fact of modern hotel booking that a printer is an essential part of the process and the humble sheet of A4 with agreed details is something which gains you your room with the absence of fuss.

Checking in is at 12 midday and I do not really want to get there that early, especially as I will be going in by train so that the expenses of the trip are kept to a minimum.  Leaving me in the centre of Barcelona with time on my hands is an expensive business!

This will be a trial run and will pave the way for other little trips or will confirm the expensive car parking as the best way to gain from the experience.

So, printing and packing are called for.