After last week's rumpus, there has been little happening at work this week.
I continue to turn in excellent and well respected work. This only serves to demonstrate how isolated my combative colleague is.
I do not feel at all upset by this.
Ross and I seem to have been in bed between 9 and 10 each night. We're both tired at the end of the winter and after a long period of transitions.
By the end of the week, everyone at work and at home was in agreement that the lighter mornings and the lighter evenings were a great tonic.
Ross and I rounded off Friday by going to Nabucco at
the Liverpool Empire performed by our old friends, the Chisinau National Opera.
As with Aida and
Cav and Pag, allowances had to
be made for a lack of subtlety in the delivery but some of the singing more
than compensated. Boris Materinco's Nabucco and Monika Chabros's Abigaille were
sensational and the chorus brought the house down with Va pensiero.
I had never seen the opera before and liked it manic energy and tunefulness. You can see why it was big hit in its day. Lots of big effects on stage, in the pit and in the voices. It was probably the Reservoir Dogs of its day. There's now only a few of Verdi's opera which I have never seen. Maybe, like Shakespeare, I should try and do the complete canon before I die.