LonDonCarlo
Okay,
so how come whenever I try to reactivate, it's about opera? Probably, to choose the simple answer at this late an hour, because I love opera. Attention, this time it's not that opera, but my slashy darling Don Carlo. At Covent Garden, London. Yep! Crazy me, innit?
And this time my baritone of choice didn't cancel. He and his colleagues Mssrs Kaufmann and Furlanetto absolutely rawked, as Opera Chic would put it. The ladies were quite impressive too. Each of the principals had their trouble spots, but that didn't matter because altogether it was a heartfelt, energetic performance. And Simon K, damn him, almost made me cry. Which is, of course, a good thing. For me at least it's the greatest compliment you can pay a musician. Unfortunately I didn't manage to impress him by telling him I'd wished Carlo had run off with Rodrigo. And pity they left out the Lacrymosa. That would definitely have done me in.
I also really really need to practise celebrity posing. I can't have my pics ending all up like these. It's a shame. Because the guys were so nice even though they didn't take me to their party with them. Okay. Click at your own risk to see
The queue at about nine in the morning (I'd arrived at 8, box office opened at 10). It got longer. Mind you, my bag on the right side of the pic was at position #11. But I had the feeling those real experts in front wouldn't want to be photographed.
Zer Kaufmann isn't shorter than me, after all.
But zer Keenlyside is. And, yeah, Zombie, toldyaso.
Hope this finds you all well etc. This time I won't even promise to really be back, but the urge to blog has just popped up again and my friends are in bed already, and the nice American I met in the queue this morning didn't show up again after show to have drinks and discuss...
Love to everyone!
Yappy the infidel
so how come whenever I try to reactivate, it's about opera? Probably, to choose the simple answer at this late an hour, because I love opera. Attention, this time it's not that opera, but my slashy darling Don Carlo. At Covent Garden, London. Yep! Crazy me, innit?
And this time my baritone of choice didn't cancel. He and his colleagues Mssrs Kaufmann and Furlanetto absolutely rawked, as Opera Chic would put it. The ladies were quite impressive too. Each of the principals had their trouble spots, but that didn't matter because altogether it was a heartfelt, energetic performance. And Simon K, damn him, almost made me cry. Which is, of course, a good thing. For me at least it's the greatest compliment you can pay a musician. Unfortunately I didn't manage to impress him by telling him I'd wished Carlo had run off with Rodrigo. And pity they left out the Lacrymosa. That would definitely have done me in.
I also really really need to practise celebrity posing. I can't have my pics ending all up like these. It's a shame. Because the guys were so nice even though they didn't take me to their party with them. Okay. Click at your own risk to see
The queue at about nine in the morning (I'd arrived at 8, box office opened at 10). It got longer. Mind you, my bag on the right side of the pic was at position #11. But I had the feeling those real experts in front wouldn't want to be photographed.
Zer Kaufmann isn't shorter than me, after all.
But zer Keenlyside is. And, yeah, Zombie, toldyaso.
Hope this finds you all well etc. This time I won't even promise to really be back, but the urge to blog has just popped up again and my friends are in bed already, and the nice American I met in the queue this morning didn't show up again after show to have drinks and discuss...
Love to everyone!
Yappy the infidel