Wörtersee at Dawn

Wörtersee at Dawn

 

We may still have quite a way to go yet until the world slowly returns to being somewhere where we are not all being advised to stay indoors most of the time and only leave your home for a small range of reasons. I took that advice on board straight away but it seems to me that some people have not taken notice at all.

I have wondered if I took notice earlier than most because I had read Stephen Kings massive book, The Stand. That is about a time so similar to what is happening right now; only difference was that that killer virus was an accidental leak made in the USA and not China. Hardly anybody survived in that story. So that has been in the back on my mind. Mr King can leave his mark on his constant reader as he calls us.

I have been a big fan of SK for a very long time and think that that was his best book. Its hard to pick a No.1 because he constantly writes great stuff, I read The Institute, very quickly last year, having pre-ordered my copy before the release date. We are about to start, If It Bleeds on Audible this week because Steve wants us to listen and enjoy it together , though I usually buy his books in hardback, to add to the reading pleasure.

The circle of people, friends and family, that we usually move in, have taken varied stand points in this strange world and I am not their keeper, so it was not for me to even say what I thought they should do. Not my business. The only thing that was my business was to let them know that we would be keeping ourselves to ourselves and not inviting ANYBODY into our home. We wanted to stay in contact, and have, but talks to visitors have been through the window across the little lawn. Only on alternate days, before dawn, do we go out at all for our run training, away from any contact. I pick up bugs very easily, I have registered that. I am not 21 any more either.

Whether through over active imagination or not I had a strange experience in the night. It was just after 2am and I woke up feeling quite cold. I pulled the duvet up tight and tucked it round me but I seemed to get colder and colder until I got out of bed and put on a thick pair of old jersey track trousers and a warm long sleeved sweat shirt and found a pair of thick socks. I put a knitted hat on and went out to the kitchen and put the kettle on to make a cup of cocoa that I mixed up with a good slug of Grand Marnier. Then I went back and sat up in bed to drink it. Steve was fast asleep, nothing wakes him. I have had a bit of a sore throat for a while and wonder if I was making a mountain out of a mole hill. When I told Steve about it in the morning, he said he had also had a slight sore throat we got a torch out and did our doctor and nurse thing and my throat did look sore and I accused him of having a sympathy ailment. He does seem to know when I have a problem no matter how slight.  Today I don’t feel that I have anything to worry about, I do sleep on my back on only one pillow, so maybe with so much time indoors I am just missing as much fresh air as I normally have.

Let’s get away from me and my imagination now and move to another way of thinking. The house diagonally over the road from us has had a constant amount of vehicular activity on two counts. The man who lives there has spent the entire time building a swimming pool in his garden that is thirty times as larger as ours. There have been vans of all kinds belonging to the builders working there and the last couple of weekends the house has been invaded by family and friends using the new pool. Cars everywhere, filling every inch of their very spacious driveway. Some of their family have brought bedding and stayed the night. It is impossible for us not to see all this, since our little house stands up on an seven/eight foot high bank and we eat our meals on a little marble top French table in the front bay window. There are no fences between us. 

Maybe between my caution, held firmly and sensibly and their caution; thrown to the wind big time there is a better level.  We will see.

I am however looking forward to the day when it is all over and on that note here is another of my poems written in Austria at Ironman time.  Steve and I love sports holidays in Austria and Switzerland. We have got our sights set on September as the latest possibility and hope to return to spending time away doing what I like to do. It will be short triathlon season though. 

Wörtersee at Dawn: Watching Birgit

The silence broken only by chatter of a water bird

and darkness gently touched by the crack of dawn.

Grebes calling to their young in water blurred

by the trail of ripples that paddling feet disturb

as a tiny grebe-lings peeps sound so forlorn.

What glow there is reflects a pale mauve light,

the full moon still bright, high in the western sky.

Little after four in the morning, still dark like night

when to my amusement and some private delight

my friend launches a plastic canoe, I don’t ask why.

At a dawn time that I thought was mine alone,

stolen from me, as her boat makes soft splashes.

She paddles into the lake passing a yellow cone,

grasping the moment to make this dawn her own.

I see her, as she heads for the suns first flashes.

Silently overseeing the morning at my look out point,

Woman and canoe float away, an image diminished

Reflecting as each changing hue the still surface anoints.

Only the speed of change can dare to disappoint;

 As miracles of nature are all too quickly finished.

Ironman Austria Kärnten. On the beautiful Wörtersee.

 

 Ironman Austria Kärnten.  On the beautiful Wörtersee.

It comes as no surprise at this stage in the virus season, that yet another of the races on my 2020 race planner has had to cancel its original date. However, thank heaven Ironman Austria has only been postponed to September 20^th. What a relief. 

 

 

On checking my diary it does not clash with any other event in that month either. What a relief that also is. Thank heaven for some happy news.

 

Steve and I have both competed in this Klagenfurt even though Steve has done it at least twice as many times as I have. Such a wonderful location we have spent so many holidays in that area. This new has put a big smile on my face with the thought that we could be going back there later this year. 

 

There are a lot more happy memory photos at the bottom of the post. Some with friends from home in Littlehampton mostly from Tuff Fitty Triathlon Club that Steve and I founded years ago.

 

It has had me day dreaming about happy times spent in the region and all the delicious local food that we both love. Apart from enjoying that great race once more I have been thinking about some of the walks that are so beautiful as well.

The poem at the bottom is about one of those walks a little way out from Klagenfurt and practically on the start of bike course but up in the hilly woods there.It is a tourist spot, but I have never seen a flood of visitors on the several occasions that I have taken that hike. Maybe that is the answer; it is a bit of a hike; but so worthwhile if you are a music lover.

 

Gustav Mahler’s Little Composing House

Through a woodland climb

Where picturesque rocks

 Either loom forward

Like giant bulkheads

Or drop dramatically away

 To the scarp side of the path

Less than a footpath

Covered with dried leaves

And thousands on small fir cones

With small blue grey rocks

Pushing through

 Demanding equal attention

Tall straight trees reach heavenwards

Sprays of a bright canopy of verdant leaves

Stretch toward the deep blue summer sky

With dizzying swirling sways overhead

Tangles of fine roots

Break the surface here and there

Causing more cautious steps to be taken

The path narrows

From time to time

To shoulder width

Where it is too steep

For a wider way to be used

Wild raspberries grow in untidy clumps

Now as perhaps they did in Mahler’s day

Tempting him to pick one

As they now tempt me

Over a shallow ditch

Looms a short wooden walkway

Taking the music loving visitor further

Then to a short set of rustic steps

Leading the follower away

 In a slightly different direction

 But still the path try’s to take

As direct a course as possible

On such a steep incline

Tramping through the undergrowth

Overgrown and meandering

Disturbed by the intruders steps

Clouds of midges

‘No See’s’

Nipping at your legs

Ambling onward stepping where Gustav stepped

Admiring the view as Gustav might also have done

Feeling the emotion evoked

By the sheer beauty of nature

Lifted as the thought passes through your head

That the great man may have thought

The very same things

Or were his thoughts and feelings

More powerful

More sensitive

His sadness more grave

His joy more elated

Then suddenly one sees the object of this tricky climb

The great composer’s tiny ‘Muse’ häuschen

The work place he chose

To hide away in

A glade

Void of modern world noise

Where even the tiniest household sound

Could not disturb his creative mind

Here nature effectively offers

A serene retreat

A mental escape

Where only the leaves murmur

To birds and squirrels

In perfect tune with each other

A gentle chorale

Singing support

To the man’s talent

In inspirational reclusion

Nature unaware

Of the massive force of inventiveness

Sharing this same space

Just another creature

He to them

Merely the daily hiker

Who came to spend his day

With them their leafy glade

To him

A simple peaceful work place.

Sitting in this spot

Under the roof of

Gustav Mahler’s

Komponierhäuschen

 I feel thunderstruck

Humbled

Tears prickle my eyes

Am I just a sentimental fool

Or do I truly feel his presence

As I sit there

Chill air wafts through my chore

Floats through my very being

Music that he wrote

Enfolds me

Where he sat

I the intruder sit

In a slip of time

If his spirit should feel mine

As my soul is enveloped in the romance

Does he wonder who this

Strange creature wearing

Bike shorts and Lycra shirt is

Why have they come to invade his privacy

Would he be appalled

Or would he know

In what high esteem I hold him

Or indeed

Would he care at all

Can his ghost grasp that we visitors

Are there out of respect and wonder

And regret that he is lost

Physically to our world

But that he still magically somehow

Holds that place in all our hearts

Through the music he created

Travelling through eternity

From his mind

Through his pen

To our ears

To be loved forever

Profound and full of passion

I am rooted for awhile

Overcome

Soaking up the atmosphere

I turn the pages of the visitor’s book

And see that my feelings are not unique

But that he has filled so many

With his inspirational strength

People from all over the world

Have tried to express

How moving the experience has been

Tiny sketches some sign with a treble clef

Or a few scribbled notes of music

Eventually I step outside

To try once more

To stand where he may have stood

To drift from view to view and wonder

Which way did he prefer to face

My eyes are drawn

Through a narrow space

Between the tall trees

 Away down the steep hillside

As far as the clear waters of the lake

Where his family home

Haus Siegl stands

On the waters edge

By the glinting turquoise Wörtersee

Like a massive natural mural

A Carinthian scene

Stunning in bright bluey green mix

Of lake water sparkling

Behind leaves and tree trunks

 I tear myself away

From the pretty Austrian place

Less than a village

Called Maiernigg

Where he lived with his family for a while

His wife Alma Schindler

Also a composer

And their children

Maria Anna

And their second daughter Anna

Where both girls suffered Scarlet fever

Where his little girl Maria Anna

Died of diphtheria

Where sadness made it unbearable

For him to stay

Beauty fades

In the darkness of grief 

Thank heaven for small acts of kindness.

Thank heaven for small acts of kindness.

It crossed my mind yet again today that many of us will be changed by this time, some in little ways and some changed beyond all recognition. Perhaps I am being fanciful but I think not. During this time when for many of us, our lives are on hold; some have completely lost their jobs and others work in business that have had to close their doors for an unknown time. Our own business has totally stopped for this unexpected chapter in our lives. We have a small antiques transport and container packing business.

What happens with that when its up and running is that people with shops and warehouses in other country’s come to the UK and spent a week or so buying pieces of furniture, small things, ornaments clocks, vases an a myriad of other decorative items that they know from years of experience, that they can sell in the stores they run in the town or city they live in. Some have been doing that for generations.

My husband Stephen was born into a family antiques shop in Kingston-Upon-Thames that his parents ran and his grandparents were also in the antiques trade and his cousin too. Steve started his own business as soon as he had left school and started to transport goods and buy and sell his own purchases himself.

He opened a business near Brighton buying antiques for clients mainly from the USA and packing 40’ containers full of all kinds of furniture. Later he moved his business closer to our home, on The Vinery business estate on the main A27 between Brighton and Arundel and has operated the business from there for fifteen years now. Actually it had become a kind of Antiques village because there are dealers in every period of furniture types and to compliment that there are also restorers on the estate. Everything from fine antiques right down the scale through decorative items to second hand furniture.  Most of those warehouses are closed now until the world comes back to life after the shock dead halt to most peoples income.

Artist Jon Forman; Sculpt the World. This  sent to me by a friend. Pebbles on the beach what a wonderful gift to the world.

The world has stopped traveling, and in my opinion that stop was far too late. Travel started to look more and more responsible for the arrival of the grim reaper in our own country and is still spreading around the world. We all know somebody who has had the killer virus, and there have been a horrendous amount of deaths reported. To prevent us panicking, we were only given figures for the ones who had died in hospital and had been tested. After so many weeks of questions being asked, the figures of others deaths of people who showed the same symptoms are only now being admitted; those in care home or those for died in there own homes.

How do we get over this? How do we move on? Can life ever be the same I wonder.

The one minute silence this morning for NHS and other front line workers who have given their lives for us, was a very emotional thing to be shown on TV. So shocking that so many willing helpers had their lives taken. The Thursday evening applause will have to go on for a good while yet won’t it, even though it changes nothing.

So our business shutters being down and our small income halted, is just something that we just will have to swallow in the present circumstances. There are a few bright signs in that so many people have taken to a more simple life and resigned themselves to losing their social circles. 

It is heartening that so many have taken up painting and sketching. I am still doing a little embroidery and that gives me a peaceful few moments and there is a lot of gardening being done also. I have planted a few vegetables for the first time in twenty five years, the summer bedding plants have lost their place this year. My daily writing is keeping me sane thank God and little fishes.

It has been heartening how so many friends have kept contact with Steve and I during a period when we have chosen to stay indoors for most of the time, only going out for the sunrise run on alternate days and home again before 7am. 

 

We found twin gifts from one friend, who we used to see swimming and running with us regularly before the lock down. She had hidden them outside our home for us to find. The identical packages contained a book for each of us; Poems that make Grown Men Cry and with just a single word change on my book. She had included a postcard note showing a Turner painting on the face side to serve as a bookmark and sprig of lilac in a tiny bottle that also caused an escapee tear or two. Thank you dear friends and family all. What a comfort to be reminded that nice things can still happen even amidst disaster times like these.   

At long last... the basket that was stolen by the sea during one of the many violent stroms of winter finally replaced. Thank you.

Holding on to the dream

 Steve at the finish of Ironman, Austria a race he has finished a number of times

Holding on to the dream

Yesterday, after completing my own 260 minutes slog on the turbo trainer, that took until lunchtime to complete, I had a call from dear friends elsewhere, who had also taken on the 2.6 My Challenge themselves, to help raise money for the charities. Age UK Brighton and Hove, in my case. We had similar thoughts at the end of the quest, namely that it was a almost a shame that we had all worked so hard to train for a long list of triathlon events this summer that had all been cancelled because of the global Corona virus pandemic.

Here we all are as fit as fleas, ready to take on our big events and yet they are all cancelled for the foreseeable future. It is a bitter disappointment but that seems as nothing to what is going on around us. We all seem to know somebody who has had the dreadful killer bug.

It seems to me though, that it is a good thing that we Ironman crazy lot had been quite determined to hold our fitness and be ready for the ‘if and when’ that this nightmare is over. The cloud hanging over us must float off and disappear in the atmosphere. We should be offering thanks that we possess the discipline to keep our heads on straight, our eyes firmly on the goal, to dig deep inside ourselves and keep on keeping on. 

Talking on the phone yesterday though, I did say that I thought that we more experienced triathletes were in fact in a better place right now and that it was more important to the many young people who had started to take part in our sport.

Just that same as in our own experience years ago, they had enjoyed the first couple of seasons taking part in Olympic distance races and had then got the taste for the sport and wanted to test ourselves further. The old longer, higher, faster syndrome I suppose.

That stage for me was about twenty seven or eight years ago. Since those early days back then, we have done dozens of 70.3 races and eighteen amazing Ironman or Iron distance races for me and well over thirty for Steve, including the ultimate, the Hawaii Ironman where it all started. 

Those youngsters have worked all winter with one goal in mind; to compete in their first Ironman or the first time at 70.3. They must be mortified with disappointment and I can see that it might be a completely morale crushing time for them, because the training for the first longer event is a real challenge. 

The gradual increase in mileage, that must be done with slow increments or they can start run into injury problems. It is a science and they have had that dream and fixed it into their minds. That is what the want to do. They should be able to do it, they think. It’s only logical when they see much that older people, slower people, are able to get through it. So they should then; it makes sense doesn’t it? They are young and strong…… and they have bought all that very expensive kit!

They look the part and they feel the part and in a few more weeks they could have been running down the finish shoot hearing the Race commentator shouting over the airways; “Sammy Farnsbarns, or Teresa Green, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!” They have heard it when they have seen races on TV and next time it should be them. That is the moment. That it what it’s all about.

I feel their pain in having that joy taken from them this year. Of course there will be another time and another chance. Yet this time was the first spring rose in bud and the finish line is the full blown glory. Young people don’t want to wait, they want it bad and they want it now. What a shame, what a torture. I just hope they have what it takes to keep holding on to that dream.    

My own fitness level is much improved from the beginning of the year when we were still excited about the prospect of all the exciting events we had entered. Stars in our eyes, as we started to plan for the travel to new places. My husband Stephen and I love traveling anyway but we find it especially exciting to be drawn to somewhere new. We have been together for 43 years and have driven to hundreds of places all over Europe. Our race season was to have started with races in two places that we had not visited. We had been near to them or passed by on the way to somewhere else but not stayed in the places.

The first stop would have been just two weeks away in Croatia, for Ironman 51.50 Poreč 1500 mtr sea swim/40km bike ride and a 10km run in a beautiful holiday destination. Poreč is a popular summer resort on the coast of the Istrian Peninsula in western Croatia. In the historic old town, the 6th-century Euphrasian Basilica complex is famous for its gem-studded Byzantine mosaics. I’ve read all about it….. Cancelled.

I have read all about Graz in Austria too, it looks marvellous, what a picturesque city it looks. That was to have been the second event on our race Calendar. That was to have been Ironman 70.3, half ironman distance….. Cancelled. 

The ITU World Championships in Edmonton, Canada have also been cancelled recently as well. What a wash out.

The young would-be Ironman has, it is fair to say better odds of still being fit next year than me at my age and a wish them well. I hope they have as much enjoyment from our sport as Steve and I have had. We long ago gave up ordinary holidays. 

My 2.6 Challenge-Save the Charities

My 2.6 Challenge-Save the Charities

Well the big push was today, we had got to the end of our 260 minute ride on our turbo trainers in our little box room upstairs. A ride of four hours 20 minutes would be quite far enough for a young person, in fact I would venture to say that it would be impossible for some of the less fit youngsters

.

For those who are reading my diary for the first time I should state my age. Children like too claim every month of their little lives and will say that they are five and a half or six and a quarter years old. In that case, I am very nearly eighty and three quarters, since my birthday is in mid August. My husband Steve is considerably younger at 69 and three quarters. So we are pretty near to 150 if you add us together.

We kept up a good pace and sweated buckets during our 260 minutes, with just a couple of quick toilet breaks. In the last hour, we were both muttering about how much our quads were burning and now that it is all over both of us are feeling a little achy in the knees and our sit bones know we have been sitting on a saddle.

Yet we feel pretty pleased with our effort and actually think it is worth the few hundred pounds that have been donated so far, mostly from friends on FaceBook where there is an easy link to my charity page on Justgiving.com in combination with my name Daphne Belt and the My 2.6 Challenge. The idea was that since today would have been the day this year when thousands and thousands would gather to do the London Marathon. The Challenge is about any effort in any sport or dance with 2 or 6 connected. Hula hooping, or up and down the stairs or hopping for 2 kilometers! Or six laps on the bikes around the estate.

What we did for ourselves to keep focused, was that we dug out a box set of West Wing that we were given as a gift years ago and really enjoyed, so this morning we watched five episodes on the trot as we sat on our bikes spinning our legs around for well over four hours.

During the time we also had an eye of the posts of encouraging messages coming in on Instagram, FB and email so there was plenty to keep us occupied as we did our workout.

I did have a bit of a headache by the time we finished and that was probably due to dehydration because I don’t drink enough when I am exercising. Never have in truth. That was ever a problem with me. In the past it had caused me to end up with DNF next to my name on the result sheets (Did Not Finish) for long events like Ironman where there was a 112 mile bike ride, often while riding in the sun. Before the marathon after that.

The worst occasion was when we had gone to the USA for Lake Placid Ironman. On the second loop of the bike ride, I actually fell asleep on my bike and woke with a start when I had gone into an almighty wobble that I only just managed to catch before I fell off. Unfortunately the incident was seen by a pair of race marshals who pulled me out of the race and called an ambulance.

 In the ambulance the medical pair, were in race contact with the doctor at the race base medical tent. They had realised that I was suffering from dehydration and on being instructed to put me on a saline drip, they reported that they could not find a vein… anywhere.

They cut my brand new tri-suit off straight up the front and eventually with the help of the radio instruction found a vein in my chest. Then they were able to start the saline drip as we travelled back to base where I was taken into the medical tent.

I was kept in the tent until I looked and tested better. But still held there until I had started to drink, and they measured the amount. When I asked how long it would be until I could leave when I was feeling better they told me that I would have to pee first and somebody would have to see that happen! No door closing. After that I was still held there until I had eaten something as well. 

The thing that was worrying me by that time was that Steve would wonder where I was and why he had not seen me out on the run which was also two laps. It was evening before I was allowed to go and I then went to find and pick up my bike from where it had been placed the transition. I had a hospital robe on until I got to my transition bag that had the clothes I had worn to the race in the morning before I could ride out to find Steve so he could finish his race and not worry any further about me.

So to conclude with today’s challenge ride, I did try to drink as much as I could whilst sweating like a shower head but I didn’t manage to drink enough until we had stopped and I have now had several glasses of water. 

A wallow in the bath was a great help to recovery and since there was not much else to do but write this page in my diary. I have taken more trouble than I felt like and dressed half decently and done my hair. My cat Birdy gave me a very strange look with the big scarf wrapped around my head while my hair dried. A sight she had not seen before because I don’t bother with rollers that often.

This poem by national treasure Pam Ayres is priceless and was sent to me by one of our poetry group. Do read it; it is so true for many of us.

Time for us girls

I'm normally a social girl
I love to meet my mates
But lately with the virus here
We can't go out the gates.
You see, we are the 'oldies' now
We need to stay inside
If they haven't seen us for a while
They'll think we've upped and died.
They'll never know the things we did
Before we got this old
There wasn't any Facebook
So not everything was told.
We may seem sweet old ladies
Who would never be uncouth
But we grew up in the 60s -
If you only knew the truth!
There was sex and drugs and rock 'n roll
The pill and miniskirts
We smoked, we drank, we partied
And were quite outrageous flirts.
Then we settled down, got married
And turned into someone's mum,
Somebody's wife, then nana,
Who on earth did we become?
We didn't mind the change of pace
Because our lives were full
But to bury us before we're dead
Is like a red rag to a bull!
So here you find me stuck inside
For 4 weeks, maybe more
I finally found myself again
Then I had to close the door!
It didnt really bother me
I'd while away the hour
I'd bake for all the family
But I've got no flaming flour!
Now Netflix is just wonderful
I like a gutsy thriller
I'm swooning over Idris
Or some random sexy killer.
At least I've got a stash of booze
For when I'm being idle
There's wine and whiskey, even gin
If I'm feeling suicidal!
So let's all drink to lockdown
To recovery and health
And hope this awful virus
Doesn't decimate our wealth.
We'll all get through the crisis
And be back to join our mates
Just hoping I'm not far too wide
To fit through the flaming gates!

Give this Pam Ayres a read, worth it.

Love Never Dies, Regent Theatre, Melbourne, Australia.

Love Never Dies, Regent Theatre, Melbourne, Australia.

It takes all sorts to make the world as they say and we all have different ideas about what is fun and what is torture into the bargain. For me I have to say that all the free streaming of recorded theatre productions has helped to make this strange time in our lives more bearable.

We have been exercising our socks off most of every morning since the beginning of March. My own personal lock down began before the official date because it seemed like the most sensible thing to do from my point of view, being a little long in the tooth at 80 years old and having had asthma for many years. My husband Steve, joined me a week later. We have managed to stay fit enough, that we are both sure, that should this impossible situation end any time soon that we would be ready for any of the long list of events we have entries for. We have trained hard every day through the whole dreadful experience without the once weekly day off training that we always did have before, but have included much more flexibility and stretching work.

Thank heaven and all the angels Steve and I are best friends as well as a married couple and have a working coach and athlete relationships. That boils down to the fact that we get on well and don’t get grumpy with each other even after an extended period of lock down. We have very similar tastes in entertainment and have worked our way through a number of things on TV that we had missed. 

A few movies, helped a bit and in that I would include the Mark Wahlberg film, Spenser Confidential. Right now I will forgive anything if it at least holds my attention until the end and this gets my pass mark for that, although it really was not anything marvellous.

Mark Wahlberg was believable and at least looks fit enough to have done his own running and fence climbing. The most memorable scene was the one in which he co-starred with a long haired German Shepherd dog for a while. The dog played his part very well in a chase scene that went quite badly wrong. That was a nice light moment and we laughed out heads off though I don’t think that was the director’s idea, who knows. We watched it to the end and declared it OK.

Last night’s choice of viewing was a whole lot better. Andrew Lloyd-Webber' s series of recordings offered for this difficult time called, the Show Must Go On, had Love Never Dies as next on the marvellous list of shows being streamed for a very limited time. This was a production staged at the Regent Theatre in Melbourne, Australia, a while back. The cast had Ben Lewis as the Phantom ten years on, moved to Coney Island, New York but still obsessed with his leading lady Christine Daaé played by Anna O’Byrne. I understand that it had been majorly re-written since the opening in London years ago and was much improved for the reshuffle and tightening of the story and having wads of money thrown at it I suppose too. Scenery, costumes and make up were all great.

 

Steve and I first saw Phantom of the Opera many years ago when it first became THE West End show to go to see. On our first visit to see it we were completely knocked out by the show and even though we had read the write ups and heard some of the music and seen interviews on chat shows. 

When the curtain finally came down and the theatre lights went up we were not in a fit state to get up and walk out into the street because we were completely overcome with the emotion of the show. It took a good deal of huffing and puffing even after the eyes were well wiped before we got up to leave and were sitting in an empty theatre as the cleaning team moved in. We saw it a handful of times with cast changes over the next few years and loved every evening we spent watching that magical show.

We were quicker off the mark to book tickets for Love Never Dies when that opened in the West End. We enjoyed that show also but it did not have the same effect as our first visit to Phantom. 

That seems to not quite work since some things did not make sense. The main reason for me was that in the according to the plot, it was set ten years after the original Phantom story and yet the leading man looked about ten years younger that in the first production. None the less the singing from both stars was marvellous as it was in the show was saw last night, and we thoroughly enjoyed it all the more for such a fabulous production. 

I still preferred the original lead man playing the Phantom in Love Never Dies, I thought he had the best mixture of great voice, good swarthy looks, stature and the desired degree of magnetic creepiness. The Phantom character is a killer after all isn’t he. 

 Original star of Love Never Dies, Ramin Karimloo

Steve and I cruelly refer to the wonderfully talented compose writer etc. as Andrew Lloyds-Bank. That began after we went to see his art collection in a London Gallery some years ago, there was a fortune in wonderful paintings displayed. Yet still I thank him from the bottom of my heart for all the pleasure he has given us with his marvellous shows.