Today is the day of the 2001 Census and I have filled out my form and posted it quite rightly.
10 years ago I was doing exactly the same thing in Egerton Street. I was then as now living on my own. I had just finished my relationship with Richard and had not yet met Keith.
And it was well before my London adventure.
Now my London adventure is over. I have just been re-negotiating my new contract for the next year at Connect. A year ago, I was in the final run up to leaving UCL. What changes! Oh, my best belovéd.
The wall tiles in the kitchen are now done. It's taken this long to get the job completed.
The floor tiles in the kitchen are also now done. Again, it's been a while getting
the job completed. All just in time for
Ross to supervise the decorating.
Just quickly, there's a few quick operatic things to report. Colin and I went over to New Brighton on Thursday evening to see Candide as done by West Kirkby Light Operatic Society and produced by our friend, Robert. I've only ever seen the work once before by Scottish Opera back in 1988. There were technical faults aplenty but I followed the plot, understood the philosophical development and marvelled at the cleverness of the score in ways that I never did with the professional production. Really, an amazing achievement. I was moved in many places.
Saturday afternoon brought a telecast of the recent Met production by Jonathan Miller of Le nozze di Figaro. There actually wasn't much of a production but the person regie was mostly more than adequate. Bryn Terfyl gave his larger than life Figaro. Cecilia Bartoli was allowed her alternative fourth Act aria Al desio di chi t'adora instead of Deh, vieni, non tardar. Usually, you get nothing. You get nothing on the grounds that, by this stage, it's getting late and people want to go home. You get Deh, vieni on the grounds that we're going to give you a complete version of the text. You rarely get Al desio because it's a bitch to sing. Cecilia sang it and sang it well. There are still too many notes to warrant regular inclusion, however. Best singing came from Renée Fleming. Her Dove sono was just the most exquisite and touching piece of vocalisation I have heard in many a long year.
Saturday evening gave us a Radio 3 broadcast of Otello from the Royal Opera so that, even if I didn't get to see it last weekend, I can at least claim to have heard it.