What a tight schedule we
have completed as planned over the last twenty four hours. Last evening was a
triathlon of delightful events and shows if nothing else how with a little
early planning and determination one can get through anything.
Yesterday afternoon Steve
shopped and cooked for the celebration picnic that was planned for after our
club swim set and before an evening at Chichester Festival Theatre where the
BBC concert Orchestra would be recording a programme for sometime in the future
(date unknown as yet) on BBC Radio 3.
Steve, as I explained to our
companion for the evening, once more our friend in many area’s of our life, Anthony Towers; Stephen is not able to call a
round of sandwiches and a packet of crisps, and a can of coke, a picnic. Oh no.
So he spent the afternoon working in the kitchen whilst I was pushed away to my
desk.
The Trinity Club swim set
was at 5pm and Anthony joined us instead of his own club Tuff Fitty’s session
at 6pm. I did forty minutes of the session and got out of the water to allow
myself time to make myself look presentable to go to the concert in Chichester later.
Another friend of ours,
Kevin also a Tuff Fitty member had on hearing that the three of us were going
OUT-OUT, after swimming looked at me and said “Better do something with your
face then Daf if you’re going to be on TV”! When I assured him that it was only
a radio recording, he told me that my face would just pass for radio. Far from
considering if I should give Kevin a good hard slap, I do love him to bits for
his straight way of talking; you know where you stand with Kevin and I value
that more than I can say.
So I did do something with my
face and my hair too, that I transformed from the normal mess of corkscrews
into a lady like smooth almost straight look. I drew the line at that and
dragged on a denim shirt, jeans, scarf and kicker boots, there are limits.
We had to keep moving pretty
smart-ish because the concert started at 7.30pm and for a recording you must be
in your seats well in time for the start. As it turned out the traffic on such a
filthy evening was not bad at all and we had enough time for our little picnic
in the car in the theatre car park we know how to live the high life.
Steve had made Salmon vol-au-vents and Tiny weeny-dainty-morsel-little-dolly- pitta-cocktail-delights and a
variety of tasty gems. Each with our personal little box. Drinks were: Cranberry
juice for Anthony, Champagne for me and water for Steve so we
could lift our glasses to say congratulations to Anthony on his new job.
Dessert was mini cup cakes.
Then into the theatre for an
evening of music. Steve likes to sit as close to the front as possible and Row
A 19- 20-21 was close enough. The programme was called Classical Contrasts as I
already said. The BBC Concert Orchestra with conductor Jaime Martin (yes I have
spelt that correctly). The special guest was Clarinettist Emma Johnson.
The evening opened with:
Le Tombeau de Couperin by
Maurice Ravel
Then the piece that was
written for Emma Johnson by Will Todd who was present.
Concerto for Emma that was
in three parts.
Emma Johnson looked every
inch the star guest in a bejewelled mini dress and high heeled thigh boots,
very striking. An astonishing performance of a most unusual almost jazzy piece.
A delightful surprise event since we were all unfamiliar with this work.
After the interval the
evening continued with:
Suite from The Victorian
Kitchen Garden by Paul Reade
And finally
Symphony No. 7 in D OP.70 by
Antonín Dvořák
It was a wonderful evening
and we all loved every moment. Just as a silly aside, we also all enjoyed recognizing so many of the musicians from previous concerts including the bass
player with the slightly different bow grip position and the very broad
shouldered jacket; obviously a man who prefers comfort and who I can secretly
tell you that I am just a tiny bit in love with. But then they do not come more
weird than me after all.
This morning was another day
of disgusting weather and I broke my own rule by still going on my Sunday run
even though it was raining quite hard. We did however pass on the drive to the
tea shop as we usually do and instead our running mate Birgit came home for
coffee and tea and the obligatory chatter on major international affairs and
other lesser stuff.
After she left we watched
biathlon from Ruhpolding in Southern Germany where
Martin Fourcade is on complete world destroying inextinguishable fire form. Up
until now one of my biggest hero’s, Ole Einar Bjørndalen has had things mainly
his own way for years and years and years. The Norwegian professional
biathlete, is often referred to by the nickname "The King of
Biathlon". He is the most medalled Olympian in the history of the Winter
Olympic Games, with 13 medals. However, hard as he is still working to stay in
the game for the next winter Olympics he is 43 now, which in itself is
incredible for a world class competing athlete in this punishing sport.
Martin Fourcade is a French
biathlete and non-commissioned army officer. Fourcade is a ten-time World
Champion, twice an Olympic champion and five-time winner of the Overall World
Cup. He is winning race after race and is just astonishing.
It is a constant wonder to
me that so few English people watch Biathlon that seems to me to be as greater
test as tests come. Imagine langlaufing to the point of utter exhaustion and
then standing still, or laying on the freezing ground, not breathing (That’s
right; your heart is about to burst with the effort and you must hold your
breathe) firing five shots at the tiniest target. If you miss one you have an
extra penalty lap that costs you around 22 seconds.
Sunday lunch is pictured
below. Steve thinks we need nourishment.
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