Preludes

Back to Smith Square on Friday past for our next installation of Chopin from Mailley-Smith, maybe six weeks since the last. See reference 1. The main draw for me was the 24 preludes, not heard since we hear Pollini back in 2011, and with two or three outings before that - including the Australian Piers Lane, described as a showman. Not seen or heard of him since. See reference 2.

It was rather cold by 1800 or so when we set off, so brain not really up and running. Evidence for this being the purchase of the wrong train tickets and getting into a tangle with a pole which I thought was blocking an aisle seat on the train. However, as it turned out, getting the wrong tickets moved us to explore getting a bus from Vauxhall, rather than getting the tube to Pimlico, with the result that we caught an 88 bus which got us to Smith Square in record time, plenty of time to take refreshment in the basement, not too hot and crowded for once. We passed on the pre-concert concert.

Up to the hall to find our young lady enthusiast to the right and another lady, not so young to the left. This last was something in shipping insurance with Newfoundland connections and seemed to know Canada pretty well. I was slightly miffed to find that, from her shipping connections, she was able to wangle rides on cargo boats to Canada, partly because her aversion to flying was a lot stronger than mine. A lot less than the cost of taking a cruise ship to New York - which was the only vaguely viable alternative that I had been able to turn up. But she reacted with some horror to my suggestion - founded on recollection of some weekend magazine article - that Newfies ate whales and seals and stuff like that; perhaps she was a veggie.

The concert was very good, once again, including one piece from when Chopin was 12 (a high proportion of the famous seem to have been precociously very good at at least something, if not what they subsequently became famous for) and another which was only published posthumously. Mazurkas continued good, and the preludes pleased as ever.

After the concert a little talk with the enthusiast about how, in such a programme played without notes or score, one did not come to lose one's place from time to time. Either play the wrong piece or jump into the wrong piece from the right piece - not that I would be likely to notice either accident. I think that the enthusiast said that such things happened to her quite often. A computer score, such as I have seen twice now (see reference 3), would, when it was working, get around this problem. It could also pop up chatty introductory notes to share with the audience, should you be that sort of performer.

After the show, thought to try an 88 bus again, at least if one of those turned up before a taxi. As it happened, the street containing the relevant bus stop, possibly John Islip Street, was very quiet and where, tired of waiting, we just caught the first bus that came along, a C10, which took an interesting route to Victoria, swinging through the back of Pimlico, on the way passing an elaborately dressed grocer's shop, lights blazing in the wilderness. It being past ten by then we got to wondering whether he had to take his display down at the close of business each day, or whether he had some tent like contraption he could draw down over it. Did he have any trouble with drunks?

Then, entrained from Victoria, we were prompted to wonder why George Clooney is so much in the news. I think I have only knowingly seen one film with him in it, but the chap seems to pop up everywhere, often with his new young wife. Maybe he has a good touch when it comes to opening shops and fetes - or maybe he just has a very good publicity agent. Checking wikipedia this morning, I find that he is busy with various good causes and he gets to chat with Obama about world problems. Never ceases to amaze me the standing we accord successful luvvies; we have moved on since they were told to use the back entrance lest they dirty the guests.

We also picked up a Red Bull bulletin, a magazine which claimed that one could pay £2.50 for it. A bit like the country house magazines read by ladies, that is to say a magazine full of show-off stuff that your man in the street could dream about, maybe aspire to. So a lot of rugged holidays and a lot of bronzed young ladies. Leavened with the odd posh watch and some instructions about how to deal with a grizzly bear, should one get up close and personal.

Reference 1: http://psmv2.blogspot.co.uk/2015/12/by-appointment.html.

Reference 2: http://pumpkinstrokemarrow.blogspot.co.uk/search?q=preludes+chopin.

Reference 3: http://psmv2.blogspot.co.uk/2015/01/dorking-time-again.html.