And, again following the report of 22nd, difficulties with the train. There had been problems south of Epsom with the result that the train I caught was promoted to express and did not stop between Motspur Park and Waterloo, omitting my intended Vauxhall, although this did not mean that the thing thundered along, rather drifted. But we did make it to Waterloo in time for the train to incarnate the 1720 to Woking from Waterloo, so at least the journey of the folk from Woking was not disturbed.
On the way, prompted by pondering on how the in-train indicator board might - or might not be - updated to reflect this new off-train situation, I had the time to ponder about how the in-train indicators worked, that is to say the overhead displays with the moving yellow dots. Were the yellow dots made by a yellow light coming on or by rotating a small object black on one side and yellow on the other? I had always assumed the former but close inspection of a display with temporarily stationary dots suggested the latter. And if the latter, where was the light coming from? Would the indicator work in the dark? I thought it best not to pursue my inquiries too closely lest I was removed from the train for treatment.
This was followed by getting slightly lost in the tube station at Waterloo and I eventually emerged at Oxford Circus where I was able to admire the early evening crowd, coming, as it did, in all shapes and sizes. There was, for example, a rather plump young couple with extensive but rather faded tattoos, all the more visible for their not very extensive clothing. Not too appetising.
Unlike the sub-ground lounge at Debenham's, noticed on 14th May, which was fully up to expectations. We were looked after by a very personable young waiter, whom we suspected of either being a management trainee or a student, rather than a professional waiter. I think he told us that he worked from 0900 to 2100, so perhaps the lounge was a franchise which more flexible employment arrangements than those appropriate to a respectable place like Debenham's. I had a Lebanese chicken something by way of a snack and very appetising it was too: a confection of chicken strips, humous and some sort of white cheesy confection served on a round flat bread. Plus a perfectly respectable red wine. All this in a quiet and spacious lounge where we stopped noticing the rather loud musak after a surprisingly short time.
Arriving at the Wigmore Hall, my neighbour was a young lady from the US, perhaps New York, who seemed quite knowledgeable about music and its performance and who was very enthusiastic about the Elias Quartet. But she left rather briskly after the first half, leaving me to wonder whether she was or was connected with the agent for the supplementary viola, Malin Broman, who was then finished for the evening, but subsequent perusal of http://www.lauratearmanagement.com/ was inconclusive.
We enjoyed the two opening pieces, while the performance of Op. 132 completely blotted out that of the Takács Quartet only a few days earlier, and was very good, albeit in a different way, with the Elias doing it with a lighter and fresher touch, perhaps reflecting their relative youth. I noticed the tossing of the pony tail of the cellist, a tossing which nicely highlighted her bits of the quartet, but which one might have thought was a bit distracting for the cellist herself, rather as I had thought the floaty muslim (or similar) top of the cellist from the Takács Quartet might have been distracting. Perhaps lady cellists like to flaunt it a bit.
Once again, in the interval nipped across to the Wimpole Street branch of http://www.beatone.co.uk/, the only disadvantage being that one is a bit nervous about missing the bell. But it worked on this occasion.
Home through Raynes Park, where I found the free library shut, but the platform included a thirty something cyclist complete with cycle, bottle of wine (being opened) and a fag (already lit). No helmet, but no-one thought it necessary to bother him about that or about anything else. I thought about the free library as a place to deposit Bacon (see 7th May), but I felt the customers were too mixed and I would be concerned lest the Bacon fell into profane hands, profane hands being far worse than a waste paper recycling plant.
PS: too late now to find out whether the programme notes for the two interpretations of Op. 132 were the same, identical even. Does the Wigmore have to economise on fees for writers of notes? Or do these last do it for the glory of seeing their names in small print?
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