Proof that I'm more than a little distracted at the moment with all my cyber adventures came this evening with me intending to go to the free concert on the place du Peyrou tonight. It was part of the International Guitar Festival being held in and around Montpellier at the moment. Except that it wasn't on today, it was on yesterday.
I practically dragged my youngest in, having bribed him with the promise of a crêpe supper for just gone 6pm parked next to the Arceaux parking, and saw a huge transparent plastic tent being taken down. Assuming it must have been for some event... we walked up to the Peyrou gardens where all was quiet. Odd...
We carried on walking down ave Foch and came to Virgin Records where I sought out a programme of what's on in Montpellier at the moment. There I found, to my annoyance but not really surprise, what I had been anticipating, that the concert was not on tonight. It had been on last night, but when it actually was or might be was a bit irrelevent. It wasn't on tonight so we had come in for nothing! Bugger.
Instead we mooched down to the Place de la Comédie, watched a group of musicians play ethnic African music just using drums, shakers and a bamboo stick, and voice of course. I was amazed at their morphology. Their faces were dark, but had non-African features such as a Roman-type nose, narrow face and thin lips. They looked most unusual. Anyway, I wasn't going to start quizzing them half-way through their concert on their ethnic origins so just left them to it and had supper at the crêperie just up from Quick.
On the way back from the restaurant, we were walking through the Peyrou gardens and two young men approached us. One asked for a light to which I replied that I didn't smoke so didn't have one, and the other asked for change of a 50Eur note at which I just laughed and carried on walking. They were a bit dodgy though...
I was a bit sorry to leave the place de la Comédie as there is a HUGE screen all set up for the rugby final tonight, but I had my youngest so there's no way I could have hung around there to watch it. Shame. Never mind, it was FREEZING today.
I'll watch it in comfort, in the warm, near the loo.
ALLEZ LES ANGLAIS!
Showing posts with label Concert. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Concert. Show all posts
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Tele On
The tele works, but has to be kept on stand-by, or switched off at the mains. The repair guy huffed and grunted his way around the Christmas tree, presents, wires and other sundry objects preventing him from perfect access to the box. In the end, he found he didn't have the right bit, or not enough bits, gave us a bag of bits he'd removed telling us not to lose it under any circumstances (which I fear we've done as I have not seen it in 24hrs) and is coming back next week to finish the job.
At least we are able to watch 'House' again. It's my favourite programme at the moment. Hugh Laurie behaves so badly in it, reminding me a little of the sarcasm and ridicule Baldrick suffered at the hands of Blackadder. It's a very clever series, uses big words (oooer) and, especially for an American series, is totally gripping. Actually, that's not really fair, is it? There are many good American series around at the moment, such as 'CSI', 'Numb3rs', 'Special Victims' Unit', 'Medium' and so on. Still, 'House' is the best, with Hugh Laurie's amazing American accent, and excellent straight acting. It's not a comedy, but he manages to make the odd brutally witty remark even so.
Talking of entertainment, this evening we tried to get to the opera to see the Mercredis d'Opera Junior. I was sure it was at 20H, today, the 20th. I had a desire to get back to being the little culture vulture that I had been before I encountered the world's least culturally interested man and entered a period of cultural life akin to a desert. My parents had taken me to various concerts, ballet and theatre shows when I was younger, and it seems natural to me to expose my little darlings to such events.
They were less enthusiastic. My eldest told me the only music he likes to listen to is rock and could he take his Gameboy? Answer: no. I had to drag them out, a bit on the late side, and make a mad dash into the centre of Montpellier. We parked and then literally ran to the Opera Berlioz.
It was looking remarkably empty and unwelcoming. How odd. Maybe the concert was in the Salle Berlioz of the concert hall on the Esplanade. Another mad dash, madder, in fact because we were really getting to the limit of the hour of 7, and arrived, puffed out, to find it shrouded in gloom with a definite air of shut-ness. Even odder.
There seemed nothing for it but to go home. Hanging around the Place de la Comedie with a sagging credit card and no cash was not inviting. However, the prospect of mulled wine and a good dose of 'House' on the tele at home was, so we made our more leisurely way back to the car, and arrived home. The whole shebang took us 40minutes.
Had we been members of 'Spooks' we could have called up HQ and put in a request to find out what had happened by whatever means they had at their disposal. As it was, I had to wait until we arrived home, then drum my fingers while the Firefox update did its thing, after which I could access the Opera site to find out where we had gone wrong.
The wretched concert had finished. It had started at 19H, not 20H. Oops. It had cost, prepaid, 21€ too. Plus 2€ parking. Oh bugger!
I'll have to get more organised if the boys are to experience a little culture other than admiring flashing glimpses of the city centre at night and standing before the closed doors of the Montpellier Opera House.
Ah me, I should have checked. Obviously 20/12 became 20H 20/12. Doh.
At least we are able to watch 'House' again. It's my favourite programme at the moment. Hugh Laurie behaves so badly in it, reminding me a little of the sarcasm and ridicule Baldrick suffered at the hands of Blackadder. It's a very clever series, uses big words (oooer) and, especially for an American series, is totally gripping. Actually, that's not really fair, is it? There are many good American series around at the moment, such as 'CSI', 'Numb3rs', 'Special Victims' Unit', 'Medium' and so on. Still, 'House' is the best, with Hugh Laurie's amazing American accent, and excellent straight acting. It's not a comedy, but he manages to make the odd brutally witty remark even so.
Talking of entertainment, this evening we tried to get to the opera to see the Mercredis d'Opera Junior. I was sure it was at 20H, today, the 20th. I had a desire to get back to being the little culture vulture that I had been before I encountered the world's least culturally interested man and entered a period of cultural life akin to a desert. My parents had taken me to various concerts, ballet and theatre shows when I was younger, and it seems natural to me to expose my little darlings to such events.
They were less enthusiastic. My eldest told me the only music he likes to listen to is rock and could he take his Gameboy? Answer: no. I had to drag them out, a bit on the late side, and make a mad dash into the centre of Montpellier. We parked and then literally ran to the Opera Berlioz.
It was looking remarkably empty and unwelcoming. How odd. Maybe the concert was in the Salle Berlioz of the concert hall on the Esplanade. Another mad dash, madder, in fact because we were really getting to the limit of the hour of 7, and arrived, puffed out, to find it shrouded in gloom with a definite air of shut-ness. Even odder.
There seemed nothing for it but to go home. Hanging around the Place de la Comedie with a sagging credit card and no cash was not inviting. However, the prospect of mulled wine and a good dose of 'House' on the tele at home was, so we made our more leisurely way back to the car, and arrived home. The whole shebang took us 40minutes.
Had we been members of 'Spooks' we could have called up HQ and put in a request to find out what had happened by whatever means they had at their disposal. As it was, I had to wait until we arrived home, then drum my fingers while the Firefox update did its thing, after which I could access the Opera site to find out where we had gone wrong.
The wretched concert had finished. It had started at 19H, not 20H. Oops. It had cost, prepaid, 21€ too. Plus 2€ parking. Oh bugger!
I'll have to get more organised if the boys are to experience a little culture other than admiring flashing glimpses of the city centre at night and standing before the closed doors of the Montpellier Opera House.
Ah me, I should have checked. Obviously 20/12 became 20H 20/12. Doh.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Coffee at 10metres
In June 1995 I was in an amateur orchestra as a viola player and we made a mini CD. One of the recordings was a piece by Pablo Casals: the Cant dell Ocells for cello and strings. The soloist who so kindly gave up his time to play with us was Cyrille Tricoire who was a member of the National Montpellier Orchestra.
It's a very beautiful piece of music; ethereal, sonorous and meditative, and making that little disc was a proud moment for me. I still have the mini disc. I left the orchestra soon afterwards to give birth to my eldest after which I had no more time, and no support to do such activities from my ex-h.
Imagine my delight, then, upon opening a newspaper produced by the Montpellier Agglomoration and seeing a concert in which M Tricoire was a soloist. He, a pianist and a violinist were to play Haydn's Piano Sonata n° 33, Mozart's Piano Sonata K333 and Mendelssohn's Trio n° 1. Lovely pieces, and in the Corum on a Sunday morning at 10.45. It was too good a chance to miss, and I decided I would try and see him afterwards to say hello.
Would you be surprised to learn that there were at least 200 people at this concert on a Sunday morning? I was. The concert hall was almost full of mostly mature, well-to-do Montpellier society. Some parents had brought along their children too. At 14€ straight price, it was a very reasonably-priced chance to listen to some beautiful music played by super professionals.
We dashed out for a coffee at the interval and although we were probably the first to make it to the bar, an elderly lady, obviously more desperate for a caffeine dose than us, called out her order for 2 coffees at 10m. She contined striding up to us and declared how moving the Mozart had been and how it always made her cry. She'd been having a lovely time too.
At the end of the concert, we hung about in true groupie form, by the interior stage door waiting for M Tricoire to come out. The other soloists were brought out by some fans, but Cyrille did not come out with them. I wondered if he had been forgotten in the quest for signed programmes, or if the soloist girls were the sought-after 'stars' while the poor cellist was just considered a cosy old accompanist. I even felt sorry for him that he did not have a bevvy of mature middle class ladies all keen for his signature on the programme.
I thus asked the pianist, Claire-Marie Le Guay if he had left already, and she replied he hadn't and that she would take us to him. We thus entered the bowels of behind stage and were taken to his dressing room. He recognised my face. Isn't that amazing? He got the instrument wrong though as he thought I played the flute, but that's okay, it was ten years ago, and a mere amateur event without professional interest for him.
Anyway, he was very charming and told me there is an amateur orchestra in Montpellier (not the same one - it was disbanded after the conductor ran off with a Polish musician he'd been having an affair with) which is always on the look-out for musicians, and he gave me the email of the conductor. Viola players are always in demand as there are so few of us. It's so nice to feel wanted...
I told him how much I had enjoyed the concert too and asked after his career. He said that, well, he was world renowned in Montpellier, in a very jolly way, but doesn't seem to mind as he is the star cello soloist of the Orchestre National de Montpellier, and teaches at the Conservatoire, so I should think he makes ends meet.
I did not ask him to sign the programme, but left him to finish putting his stuff away, and went off happy as a sandboy outside into the brisk but doue November sun.
The last time I joined an orchestra I had not played the viola for ten years. It's now been about ten years since I last played. Maybe it's time for me to take it up again. This seems to be a situation presented to me on a plate, and as such should be followed up.
I'm a great believer in Fate and doing things at the right time; not before, not after. If you don't take notice of this, things invariably go wrong because you're too early, or too late. There is a bon moment. Don't ignore it.
StBdeR
It's a very beautiful piece of music; ethereal, sonorous and meditative, and making that little disc was a proud moment for me. I still have the mini disc. I left the orchestra soon afterwards to give birth to my eldest after which I had no more time, and no support to do such activities from my ex-h.
Imagine my delight, then, upon opening a newspaper produced by the Montpellier Agglomoration and seeing a concert in which M Tricoire was a soloist. He, a pianist and a violinist were to play Haydn's Piano Sonata n° 33, Mozart's Piano Sonata K333 and Mendelssohn's Trio n° 1. Lovely pieces, and in the Corum on a Sunday morning at 10.45. It was too good a chance to miss, and I decided I would try and see him afterwards to say hello.
Would you be surprised to learn that there were at least 200 people at this concert on a Sunday morning? I was. The concert hall was almost full of mostly mature, well-to-do Montpellier society. Some parents had brought along their children too. At 14€ straight price, it was a very reasonably-priced chance to listen to some beautiful music played by super professionals.
We dashed out for a coffee at the interval and although we were probably the first to make it to the bar, an elderly lady, obviously more desperate for a caffeine dose than us, called out her order for 2 coffees at 10m. She contined striding up to us and declared how moving the Mozart had been and how it always made her cry. She'd been having a lovely time too.
At the end of the concert, we hung about in true groupie form, by the interior stage door waiting for M Tricoire to come out. The other soloists were brought out by some fans, but Cyrille did not come out with them. I wondered if he had been forgotten in the quest for signed programmes, or if the soloist girls were the sought-after 'stars' while the poor cellist was just considered a cosy old accompanist. I even felt sorry for him that he did not have a bevvy of mature middle class ladies all keen for his signature on the programme.
I thus asked the pianist, Claire-Marie Le Guay if he had left already, and she replied he hadn't and that she would take us to him. We thus entered the bowels of behind stage and were taken to his dressing room. He recognised my face. Isn't that amazing? He got the instrument wrong though as he thought I played the flute, but that's okay, it was ten years ago, and a mere amateur event without professional interest for him.
Anyway, he was very charming and told me there is an amateur orchestra in Montpellier (not the same one - it was disbanded after the conductor ran off with a Polish musician he'd been having an affair with) which is always on the look-out for musicians, and he gave me the email of the conductor. Viola players are always in demand as there are so few of us. It's so nice to feel wanted...
I told him how much I had enjoyed the concert too and asked after his career. He said that, well, he was world renowned in Montpellier, in a very jolly way, but doesn't seem to mind as he is the star cello soloist of the Orchestre National de Montpellier, and teaches at the Conservatoire, so I should think he makes ends meet.
I did not ask him to sign the programme, but left him to finish putting his stuff away, and went off happy as a sandboy outside into the brisk but doue November sun.
The last time I joined an orchestra I had not played the viola for ten years. It's now been about ten years since I last played. Maybe it's time for me to take it up again. This seems to be a situation presented to me on a plate, and as such should be followed up.
I'm a great believer in Fate and doing things at the right time; not before, not after. If you don't take notice of this, things invariably go wrong because you're too early, or too late. There is a bon moment. Don't ignore it.
StBdeR
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