The day was dreary, but the company on the train out was not, with my being entertained by a party of mature ladies - say forty to fifty years in age - out on a bash somewhere. There were five of them, all very much of a size and shape and mostly blonde. I did wonder whether they were all from the same family. But whoever or whatever they were, they were clearly out for a good time, with important supplies in a shopping trolley. Sadly I did not get to see what the important supplies were - had I thought at the time, I imagine I could have raised a laugh by asking in a suitably droll way. It was not taking much to get them going.
There was also a very expensive school satchel opposite me, an elaborate replica, only slightly elaborated, of the sort of thing I had at school, until the wave of duffel bags swept over the schools of Cambridgeshire. Quite different, I may say, from the sort of things that google turns up this morning. While I, needing to make a statement of my own, used an ex-RAF haversack, a sturdy blue affair. I wondered about the cost of the replica satchel, at a guess, £100 or so. How did that compare with what my mother paid sixty years ago? A quick peek at google this morning suggests that the RPI has gone up by a factor of around 25 in that time, while I would think that my satchel cost perhaps £1 or so from Remploy (probably late lamented). So the expensive school satchel was not that out of line, particularly if you allow for it being a fashion statement rather than a bit of school kit. See reference 3.
Pimlico Plumbers looking very festive, but I completely forget to pay them a visit on the way home. Perhaps a special expedition is needed.
Took a Bullingdon at the very top of the ramp (a life time second) at Waterloo 3 and pedaled off to Roscoe Street. Stamford Street eastbound was rather blocked up, probably because of the building going on at the northeastern end. Slightly surprised that the young builder I talked to at the lights sounded as if he came from Denmark or Germany, rather than somewhere further east. Perhaps he was an engineer rather than a grunt.
Came across some Californian walnuts in Whitecross Street, the first I have seen for a while, at what must have been very nearly the last proper market stall, the rest having been given over to street food. Proper cockney too, with a wife who liked wet walnuts. We agreed that this must be a lady thing. Also that stamping the red diamonds on the nuts would be a pretty tedious job and that one would be better off stacking shelves.
Market café in good form, as busy as I have ever seen it. Bacon sandwich on crusty bread (aka thick sliced factory wrapped white) very good. Made to feel a touch old by a party of young people cheerfully chomping away outside despite the cold: given that it is not as if there are not plenty of young people about, perhaps it was that they particularly reminded me of my student days for some reason.
St. Luke's sold out for Pires and Khachatourian, I think for the former, whom, notwithstanding, I had not previously heard of, never mind heard. Modest enough not to have a web site, at least not under her own name, although there is one for her Partitura project at reference 1, a project with the admirable mission '... to create an altruistic dynamic between artists of different generations and to offer an alternative in a world too often focused on competitiveness'. Playing at St. Luke's with a much younger pianist was very much part of this. He explained that being on a platform with another pianist was a wonderful way to learn. Playing something four handed even more so, and we got a demonstration of this last with the funeral march from Chopin's Sonata No.2 - played instead of the billed Bartók. She explained that the hands were different, with the left hand playing in a different way to the right hand, a difference which made playing something four handed which you were used to playing two handed even more interesting. Something I must look up, lateralisation being of interest on another account. See Gazzaniga.
Chopin Sonata No.1 interesting, Nocturnes Op.9 and Op.27 terrific. But the funeral march seemed a bit vulgar after the nocturnes. There was also the minor irritation of talking head in some of the intervals - which I would much preferred them to have dubbed in after the event. It was not as if the thing was going out live, despite the lunch time billing.
To the 'Masque Haunt' for afters, the first time we had been there for a while, to find it very smartly decorated up for Christmas. Presumably the Christmas lunch season is well under way. There were also a couple of chaps from Pickfords, the people who moved us from Norwich, many years ago now, so we could swap removal stories. I then learned about an important reunion of nearly all the people who passed through the 'Kinks', now mostly in their seventies, at the Boston Arms at Tufnell Park, a public house which I used to use occasionally in the olden days, not at that time the music place it seems to have become. Just an old style boozer for paddies. See reference 2. Sadly, it was too late for the reunion.
Bullingdon'd backed from Berry Street to Stamford Street, this time to find that Alaska Street rather than Stanford Street blocked up, with a large film lighting crew rather than the builders. I was reminded of a very cross New Yorker, really cheesed off that his street was being used for the umpteenth time for filming - without, it seemed, any form of fee or compensation. Being so up close and personal to the luvvy scene was thought to be reward enough. I found the baker - Konditor & Cook - far too crowded and passed.
Reference 1: http://musicchapel.org/presenting-the-partitura-project/.
Reference 2: http://www.bostonarms.co.uk/.
Reference 3: http://swanlowpark.co.uk/rpiannual.jsp.
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