Into Autumn
8 November

The days collapse and the weather worsens. Signs of Christmas are fast appearing in the shops.

We are well into the autumnal season.

I missed out on Bonfire Night by attending Opera North's Der Rosenkavalier at the Lowry with Roland. By chance, we bumped into Colin and his friend Stephen in the first interval. I asked Stephen if he liked the performance. He answered that it was difficult to identify with Strauss heroines, supported as they are by large incomes and lush orchestration. It might have been a bon mot had it not been so obviously prepared and rehearsed. And accompanied by Stephen's perpetual world-weary posture.

The evening was a good company effort. Perfectly acceptable production by David McVicar, decor and costumes. Some nicely observed characterisation.

The Feldmarschallin was Janis Kelly. She was Violetta in Opera North's extraordinary La Traviata back in 1999 with Tom Randle and the late Keith Latham. She was less good as the vixen in Janacek's Cunning Little Vixen last year. I like her as an artist. Her work is from the heart and fully committed. However, in an ideal world, the role needs a bigger voice and there were times when this was obvious.

Deanne Meek sang Octavian well but moved like a woman in drag. Marie Arnet was pert and effectively innocent as Sophie and Conal Coad got close to ham as Baron Ochs. Overall, it was a B plus effort rather than A minus. Martin Pickard took over the baton at short notice and kept everything together and sounding well.

After a so-so meal at Ego, Ross and I took in our first concert of the season at the Phil on Thursday night. It was an odd mixture of works but there was a certain elemental link.

Beethoven's Pastoral symphony was given a real rustic feel, very dance led but galumphing dance rather than elegant, court dance. There was earth on the boots and waters rippled in brooks whilst rain lashed in the storm. Hunting horns rasped and fiddles twiddled. And then, suddenly, after our walk through a physical or a metaphysical landscape, communing with nature as we went, we took a step sideways into a Bach chorale and were presented with an aspect of the holy alongside our reasonable

Ravel's Schéhérazade sung by Susan Gritton was a perfumed filigree of sound, smolderingly passionate and occasionally bursting into flame. Words tangy and sightly acidic as befits French song.

Shostakovich's 9th Symphony was a chill wind from the post-war period, all gales of laughter until a central section of cataclysmic mourning led by a lamenting bassoon followed by strained and unbelievably forced jollity. Great stuff.

The whole performance was conducted by Charles Mackerras who bounded onto the platform with the energy and spritely gait of a 60 year old. He will be 77 in a short space of time. He was Music Director of English National Opera when I was a student and has supplied many of the outstanding musical events of my life. Respect, respect.

And, before we leave music making, I should set on record two areas of listening which have been central to the past few months but have, so far, gone unrecorded in these pages.

Firstly, I want to mention BBC radio's Web-based Radio-on-Demand. This is what it says on the packet. Regular and popular radio programmes online for a week after their broadcast so they can be listened to time and time again streamed over the Internet at a time to suit you. It has revolutionised my listening habits at work. I can now catch every edition of Saturday morning's Record Review as and when I choose.

Secondly, I want to put in a word for Naxos's series of historical broadcasts and recordings, re-mastered and presented on budget CD. The sound is more than passable. And the performances are extraordinary. Mostly pre-war. Mono. But absolutely committed. A Contes d'Hoffmann from Paris, Lehmann's Rosenkavalier from Berlin, a Figaro from Glyndebourne, a Forza from fascist Rome, a Falstaff from fascist Milan and, most of all, Gigli's Puccini with the Tosca and the Bohème absolutely outstanding.

Let's turn to the body parts of well-off celebrities (as opposed to the rich and famous). Can you guess whose hands, six-pack and buttocks are displayed below.

Top row: Jamie Theakston's, Philip Olivier's and Gary Lucy's hands Bottom row: James Gooding's buttocks, Jude Law's 6 pack

These casts were all created and auctioned as part of Tiscali's fund raising efforts in support of breast cancer research and care. We had thought to put in a bid for Philip Olivier's hand on the grounds that it would be something to treasure on dark winter's evenings. Certainly, any part of young Philip would look good mounted on our mantlepiece.

On of my little known pastimes is playing solitaire on the computer. I've got to 99 wins out of 99 by dint of hard work and manipulating the avoidance of recording defeat.

What I don't know is whether I should make it a true 100 out of 100 or whether I should deliberately spoil the 100th game on the grounds that nothing is perfect.