Gentle June

After the madness of May the new month starts at a somewhat gentler pace. First up on 2 June is a trip to Glyndebourne to see the Festival’s first ever production of Wagner’s last opera Parsifal. Having just driven to Stratford and back, I decided to do this one by train and the excellent £10 return Glyndebourne bus service from Lewes Station. It worked really well and I arrived on the most beautiful sunny day, took a walk around the lake, had a glass of wine and watched all the lovely people. I decided on a dark suit rather than the full DJ and it’s becoming clear that the dress code is much more relaxed than it used to be – there were even men in shorts! Oh and had a preview of dinner!

So, into the auditorium and during the wonderfully atmospheric overture a caption appears on the curtain referencing Cain and Abel. Now Wagner had already mashed up Arthurian legend with strict Roman Catholic Good Friday rituals. Could the story take another level of myth? Well in my opinion, no. The main charaters’ alter egos or older doppelgänger mooching around at the back of the set didn’t do it for me and the construct that Klingsor and Amfortas had been quarreling brothers also didn’t wash. All that said it was magnificently sung and the orchestra under Robin Ticciati was just sublime. And there were some great moments of theatre in Jetske Mijnssen’s production too. I loved the gang of Kundry clones whooshing down on poor Parsifal and I liked the procession of Titurel’s coffin round and round the altar before laying him to rest. On the coach back to Lewes one visitor complained that this went on a bit too long to which I replied “Well, there is a lot of music to get through before the next aria and at least there was some action.” Despite some reservations about the over-concepty production it was a great evening and I’m very glad I saw, but especially, heard it.

The next evening (Tuesday) saw me join a friend from 50 years ago, Alison Dunn, at her retirement party in the splendid Humble Grape wine bar off Fleet Street – a great choice as that’s where we first knew each other when she worked on Education and Training magazine with Barry Turner a long-standing writer and editor friend who did some consultancy work for me in my guise as an educational publisher back in the 70s. Tasked with speaking to everyone in the room – I only knew Ali – I did about 70% and what some fine famaily, friends and former colleagues she has.

Each year in November the British Bilingual Poetry Collective, of which I’m a trustee, runs an interactive poetry event as part of Tower Hamlets’ Season of Bangla Drama. So on Wednesday Shamim Azad, the founder, and I head off to see the coordinator of the festival Kazi Ruksana Begum to discuss plans schedules and the broad outline of this year’s event. The theme for 2025 is ‘Kindness’ and we’ll be switching our focus from Rabindranath Tagore to the national poet of Bangladesh Kazi Nazrul Islam in a session with the title Kindness with Kazi.

< Last years’ poster

The evening brings the last concert I’ll see in the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment’s Southbank season. It’s an old favourite but like you’ve never heard it before. Elgar’s Enigma Variations must be one of the most played pieces in the repertoire with ‘Nimrod’ known in many different forms. However, the OAE presents ‘ historically informed’ performances so to hear the music played on gut strings, wooden not metal flutes, French not German bassoons made it sound completely fresh. Quite possibly how Elgar himself would have heard it. The variations formed the second half of the concert. Before the interval we heard his lively concert overture In the South written while he was in southern Italy and reflecting the sounds and landscape of the country. The mezzo Frances Gregory then performed five of Elgar’s Sea Pictures with great sensitivity and bursts of power to soar above the rich orchestral tones. the Portuguese conducter Dinis Sousa made his debut with the OAE and clearly developed a great rapport with them. He’s the principal conducter of the Royal Northern Sinfonia based a the Glasshouse in Gateshead and looks a fine prospect.

I remember a lot of excitement around Patrick Marber’s Dealer’s Choice back in 1997 in the confines of the Cottesloe theatre at the National and I enjoyed it very much at the time. I was looking forward to this revival in the similarly contrained arena of the Donmar and it didn’t disappoint, mainly thanks to a brilliant performance from Hammed Animashaun as Mugsy. The banter between the boys, the knowledge that he’s going to lose and his dream of opening a restaurant in a disused toilet in Bow infuse the whole play which has a spectacular set transformation that’s worth the ticket alone. As with House of Games, I’m more than ever convinced I’m not cut out to be a gambler.

I should have gone to Garsington to see Tchaikovsky’s Queen of Spades on Friday. However my frequent opera comapnion Jadwiga was unwell and I couldn’t find a replacement at short notice. The brilliant box office have moved my booking to 21 June and we’ll be seeing Handel’s Rodelinda instead.

My next musical outing was on Sunday 8 June when I went to a new venue for me – Charterhouse. It was a concert organised by the Barbican as part of the European Concert Hall Organisation’s (ECHO) rising stars programme. It was a recital for trumpet and piano and featured a premiere piece Continuum by my friend Dani Howard. Dani had worked with the trumpet player Matilda Lloyd to create the piece. As Matilda said in her intro “It started with an icecream on the beach”. Knowing Dani’s large orchestral works, her opera and hearing her percussion composition for Colin Currie last month, it confirmed – if it needed it – her versatility and gift for melody and creating atmospheres. Matilda and her pianist Jonathan Ware had played this piece 18 times as they toured the European concert halls who form the ECHO with this one being the last. They all kindly invited me to join them for tea and cake or a beer after the concert so it was altogether a super Sunday afternoon.

As a special offer if you’d booked a Barbican ticket you could see the Encounters exhibition for a fiver, so I did. This was in a small gallery on floor 2 and featured the contrasting works of Giacometti, with whom I was familiar, and Huma Bhabha who I didn’t know at all. Huma was born in Pakaistan but is now based in upstate New York. Her monumental works which incorporate found materials contrast with the elegant skinny figures of Giacometti. I know which ones i’d like to own but it was an interesting hour contemplating differeing approaches to making sculptures.

Continuing with our catholic cultural chase, my next visit was to Sadler’s Wells with my daughter Jo to see Mathew Bourne’s The Midnight Bell . This was a belated birthday outing for Jo and we had a fine early supper in Moro before making our way through the heaving Exmouth Market up Rosebery Avenue. What are all these people doing out on a Tuesday? The ballet is set in sleazy Soho in the 30 where the eponymus pub is host to prostitutes, closeted illegal gays, a lovestruck barman and various other denizens of nighttime London. There were duets, larger ensemble pieces, the most amazing and fluent set changes and original music blended with ballads from the era sung with original vinyl hiss and crackle, endless style and commitment by booming baritones. We both enjoyed it a lot and chatted about it as we made our way back to Farringdon for trains back home. It’s good to enjoy your daughter’s birthday treat too!

Yoshitomo Nara is an artist I’d seen a little of and so off I went to the Hayward Gallery to see what must be one of his biggest ever shows outside Japan with over 150 works displayed. He’s the epitome of Japanese kawaii kitsch but with a twist – those sweet faced Hello Kitty style children’s faces contain messages of disquiet, protest and fear. Nara is very political in his work and repeats themes throughout his long career which the exhibition spans. There are installation – a ramshackle shed, a teacup fountain, paintings, drawings and sculptures spread over the whole expanse of the Hayward. It was fascinating to start with but there’s just too much to see and too much repetition of the themes that are dear to him. I’m glad I went however and got to have a chat with a film crew shooting it for The Sunday Times.

There was a double challenge getting from the gallery to my dinner with friends in Soho. First I had to navigate the waterfall and fountains on the walkway. They were fun – a cascade from the level above, water pouring from a waist and a green figure with a fountain for a head. Then I had to make my way across the Hungerford footbridge the scene of my disastrous fall last May. I managed both and had a great evening. I’ve been a fan of Nubya Garcia the young British saxophonist for a long time and managed to pop into the Queen Elizabeth Hall to get one of the last few tickets for her gig there next Thursday. It’s part of Little Simz’ Meltdown Festival which sounded a bit youth for me but I do like Nubya’s music so I bought one

The warm up band, Oreglo were a quartet of keyboard, drums, guitar and tuba – the latter becoming an instrument of choice it seems since Theon Cross in Sons of Kemet and other of the new groups that have arisen from Tomorrow’s Warriors – also a training ground for Nubya which she graciously acknowledged in her concert introductions. Oreglo were full of life and energy in a field that spanned jazz and prog rock and were an adequate preparation for the main event.

I was very surprised to see the band walk on stage Sam Jones headed for the drum kit but that doesn’t look like Daniel Casimir and that is certainly not Joe Armon jones at the keyboards. Nubya then followed in a huge-skirted off the shoulder gown and later introduced Lyle Barton at the keys and Max Luthert on bass. It’s a tribute to the quality of musicianship that you didn’t notice the personnel changes – yes the solos might have been a bit different but they fitted the music, mostly from the latest album Odyssey. She proudly announced that she had done all the arrangements for the strings that are on the album herself – taking her out of her comfort zone to make the sounds she wanted to hear. She also apologized for the lack of a string section tonight but had rearranged the songs for this concert. I am so glad I bought that ticket. The album is great and different but her live performances and those of these superb players were electrifying. She even did a walkabout through the audience with the final song from the album ‘Triumphance’ with its spoken word lyrics of life enhancing advice about resilience, tolerance and collective power. Nubya is true talent at the height of her own powers who received a standing ovation from the packed QEH audience which did include a few other people of my generation as well as all the meltdown youth.

After another visit to the Union Club, this time for lunch with a friend, we set off in the evening to enjoy The Taming of the Shrew in Tredegar Square in Mile End performed by a group called Shakespeare in the Squares. They perform an adapted version of one of the bard’s plays – different each year – in squares across London. I think it was 18 this year. The production includes songs for the audience to sing along with, some high quality acting and projection against traffic and aircraft and other ambient noise. And not only do they speak Shakespeare’s words eloquently they also play instruments and sing. We were lucky that it was a beautiful sunny pre-solstice evening and it was hugely enjoyable. I’ll try another venue next year.

The Taming of the Shrew in Tredegar Square

More music on Sunday when my son was singing with the choir Pegasus and the Outcry Ensemble at St John’s Smith Square. Two fanfares opened the evening the familiar Copland’s Common Man and Joan Tower’s Uncommon Woman which I didn’t know and then a Britten choral work which I’d never heard ‘Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam’ which was, I’m told, very hard to sing but was a great listen with six differently styled sections setting the words of Gerard Manley Hopkins for unaccompanied voices. I had a good catch up with Tom in the interval and then enjoyed Britten’s Variations on a theme of Frank Bridge and Leonard Bernstein’s Chichester Psalms where the countertenor soloist was none other than Hugh Cutting who had been at Garsington the night before. I was able to tell him how much we’d enjoyed Rodelinda and his performance tonight. He too enjoyed the production at Garsington and thought it worked well, especially the dancers.

The Outcry Ensemble and Pegasus Choir at St John’s Smith Square

Sicily of the stars

So Thursday dawns bright after a another horrendous Sahara storm in the night which has left the car looking like a Damien Hirst dot painting with sand blobs or a negative Dalmatian dog. The washers work, I can see out safely and set off. I decided to head for Taormina up to the northern part of the Ionian Sea nestling under Mount Etna, Sicily’s pride and joy. A bit like Fuji in Japan, Etna imagery is everywhere and it happens to be a very good wine DOC. I’m not going to do the many tours on offer. But she looks great from the road, (it should be said there are frequent stop areas so no driving danger involved).

Movie stars, models, la belle monde have made Taormina the playground of the rich and famous since the days of the Grand Tour. I was intrigued by a Monty Don BBC series about a garden made by the Brit socialite Florence Trevelyan. The best way there is up the motorway past Catania – a place I’ve decided to omit from my trip as it looks like a sprawling industrial city – actually Sicily’s second biggest. What the road does do is give great views of Mount Etna.I bypass Catania, the second largest city as I think it will be too much for the last of my days here. From the road it looks like an enormous sprawl as the Catania plain floats into the sea. Taormina looks much more attractive, after all Wagner visited in 1881 and said “We should have fled there in 1858 and spared ourselves many torments. The children could have lived on prickly pears!” It proved a haven for Oscar Wilde when he was too gay for Capri. The composer Ethel Smythe spent time here as did D H Lawrence. I don’t have Sky Atlantic but I believe series two of White Lotus was filmed here so it must be worth a look. Giulia does a great job getting me to the gardens I was seeking but of course there is nowhere to park and I descend back to the seafront some two hundred metres below. Following my Ragusa experience I look for a hop on hop off bus to take me back up. From a sign on the exterior, there’s supposed to be an Tourist Information point in the elegant station but there isn’t, not even a closed window. I wonder for a moment if I should have come by train. I enquire of a taxi driver who says he’ll take me up for 50 euros which I politely decline, have a wander along the seafront and have a coffee to think about things.

The station at Taormina and a cove and beach.

Eventually I decide to drive back up and hope a parking space opens up. I’m amused by Giulia’s instructions to take ‘via Luigi Pirandello’. I think whoever was responsible for street names had a great sense of humour. This street from lower to upper Taormina is a hair-raising, gear-changing succession of hairpin bends – with as many twists as Pirandello plot.

The centre looks very crowded and touristy and I let her take me straight to the gardens again. They were created by Florence Trevelyan who came to Taormina after – rumour has it – Queen Victoria exiled her after an illicit affair with Prince Edward. Whatever she built a house near Taormina’s Greek Theatre, She married Salvatore Cacciola a doctor and sometime mayor of the town. She also bought the small island Isola Bella and a large expanse of land up in the centre where she laid out a private leisure garden with views of Etna and a whole host of follies (a feast for my folly guru Gwyn) which she called her ‘beehives’. They are in many different shapes and sizes and made from a variety of stone, cloth, brick, pipes, wood and other architectural salvage. There’s also a war memorial formed by an Italian wartime two man submarine, her own henge and lots of bougainvillea (one on the move?), sunflowers and fragrant plants.

Time for lunch and where better than Ristorante al Giardino? I happen to be wearing my Murakami T-shirt today (a story from another day here). It elicits an admiring comment from a couple also dining there. I tell them the story and we have an intersting conversation during which Lilian – who I think said she was from Chicago – and her companion express an interest in travelling to Japan so we chat even more. They move on and my sea bream in lemon sauce arrives with a glass of Etna Catarratto – perfect. I explore the town a bit and then head back to find my car. From up here have a great view of the station from above – glad I didn’t come by train and try to walk up! – posh dolce vita hotel and the beaches I was walking along earlier. It is a truly spectacular coastline and I can see while it appealed to so many in the belle epoque and to producers of glitzy TV.

As I set off back down the A18 I think of making a slight detour to a town the sign for which I’ve seen a few times as I pass. Augusta is the very pleasant capital of Maine. I think there’s another where people play golf. So when I see a sign claiming it as the city of two ports I visualize myself sipping an evening beer watching activity in a quaint harbour. Fat chance! After a rigorous exploration of the terrain I discover that the two harbours are #1 Military and #2 oil terminal complex. Tail between legs – back home!

Augusta – Intersting town gate, military harbour and oil refinery sprawl.

My evening beer is in the brilliantly named Civico Maltato (the malted city) near the amazing cylindrical church of St Thomas of the Pantheon where the setting sun catches the stained glass dramatically. I had food left over from last night’s culinary efforts so it’s back home to eat and pack.

Sicily day 2 – the fun continues

I’d booked a tour of the Palazzo Conte Federico from the UK as I thought it might be interesting to do a ‘Stately Home” tour abroad – and it was to be conducted by the current count. That was for 11 o’clock so I had a while to wander in search of breakfast and the famed Ballaro market. Previous readers will know how much I love a market. And in Siracusa I’ve arranged to stay in an apartment with cooking facilities so maybe I can buy something in the market there. But back to Ballaro – not the elegant framework of La Boqueria in Barcelona or those in Valencia, Madrid and Palma but a sprawling muddle of streets – one actually via Ballaro – with pub umbrellas (mostly Messina beer), tarpaulins stretched over metal frames and a variety of stalls with staff hawking their produce. It was hot, it was colourful, it was lively and it was fun. It also provided A stall with seats, freshly squeezed orange juice, coffee and a croissant so breakfast was ticked off. And I may well have seen the swordfish being cut up that I had for lunch later. Certainly the guy was making a fine job of carving up tuna.

I strolled through the streets in the neighbourhood, narrow, golden sandstone, church at every corner and found the Palazzo a little ahead of time. The young count, Andrea, was preparing to take tickets and asking people to wait but nobly allowed me in to use the loo. They may be one of the richest families in Palermo but they buy their hand wash in Lidl! I know the Cien brand well. The tour was fascinating and the palazzo deceptively large given it’s street frontage. It contains within it the last of 26 original lookout towers from the medieval city when it stood on the edge of the harbour. We’re now a good mile inland and most of newer Palermo has been reclaimed at various periods of history, including a large area using bomb damage wreckage after the Second World War. The website gives you a good impression of what I saw. The fun bits for me were that the 86-year-old count was and is a highly decorated racing driver and now ventures outside Italy to race since anyone over the age of 80 is prohibited from competition in Italy. His wife is a gifted soprano and we entered her studio to find a prized Pleyel piano apparently played by Richard Wagner on a visit. This is my third Pleyel – Chopin’s in Mallorca and de Falla’s in Granada. And I’m planning to hear some Wagner on Friday evening.

It was a fascinating tour, well handled in alternating Italian and English by Andrea and gave one an insight into how the other half lives – or lived perhaps if you need to have paying tourists traipsing though your home between 11:00 and 16:00 every day except Sundays. There were lots of stairs too so the hip got a good workout.

As I exited and walked down a narrow street what should I see but a lady with a clapper board marking a take. A minimal crew was shooting what appeared from the OTT acting on show to be a dramedy, comedy drama or outright farce.

Next stop was for a coffee near the epicentre of the city – Quattri Canti where the posh streets Corso Vittorio Emanuele and Via Maqueda meet. It’s very busy but coffee is still only one euro twenty despite the tourist nature of the area.

Next was a visit to the famous, or infamous because of its nudity, fountain Fontana Pretoria. It has no water flowing but is an impressive structure.

And then on to a pair of churches – one of which had just closed! But the Chiesa de San Cataldo was wonderfully calm and simple – a blessing after the ornate nature of the majority. It also has three red domes and some impressive brickwork and a great stained glass cross.

Lunch nearby was pasta al pesce spada e melanzane – there were lots of both swordfish and aubergines in the market and it restored me for the next visit. This was only a short distance away but almost unreachable because of workmen relaying the enormous slabs that make up Palermo’s streets.

The Galleria d’Arte Moderna proved a bit of a misnomer as paintings in the collection stopped at 1935 and was almost entirely figurative. There were several paintings I really liked however so despite expectations not being met, I was glad I’d gone.

It was time to rest the feet after a day of constant movement. But on the way back passing Giardino Garibaldi I was struck by this massive Ficus macrophylla reputed to be 150 years old. It’s what we know better as the banyan tree.

As I was walking along via Torremusa I noticed white carpet on the church steps and popped in to catch a wedding ceremony in full flow. Another enormous and brilliantly decorated church like so many in the city. This one was the Chiesa Parrocchiale di Santa Maria della Pietà. I was very discreet and didn’t even offer to make a speech.

Back at the apartment for a brief rest, a shower and then out for dinner locally with a whitebait starter and some sausages to follow. They were quite spicy – close to merguez. Well as Paola said when I told her I was going to Sicily “Sicily – it’s Africa!” She’s from Rome.