Buxton, Oxford and Chester
27 July

A week's holiday brought trips to three classy places.

Time in the Kimblerley Avenue household passes swiftly. It doesn't seem a year since Ross and I were last at the Buxton Festival for La Périchole and Erismena.

We continued our survey of Handel's work with a performance of Semele which gladdened the heart. Harry Christophers led a sprightly musical performance which brought the best out of the main performers Helen Williams as Semele herself, Tom Randle as Jupiter, Michael George as Cadmus and a brilliant Somnus, William Purefoy as Athamas and Natasha Petrinsky as June and Ino.

The production played with current iconography in a richly comic vein and the evening fairly zipped by. A definite three stars for a good evening's entertainment.

The following evening brought something a little more out of the ordinary with a performance of Donizetti's Maria Padilla. It's a strange work. The plot revolves around the often followed story of thwarted love interests. However, in this case the central character is a self-professed ambitious woman who sets her sights on the throne of Spain and achieves it with possibly disastrous long-term consequences that are outside the scope of the opera itself.

Mostly the work is about non-communication or the lack of it. The tenor is the father figure, the baritone is the love interest. There is a mad scene but it is given to the tenor. The vocal highlight of the evening is a duet for the prima and secunda donna. All in all it is an opera of harbingers for much of the rest of the nineteenth century. Premiered in Milan at Christmas 1841, it was overshadowed by the first performances, some ten weeks later, of the young Guiseppe Verdi's Nabucco. He obviously was listening and learnt his lessons well. Some of the harmonies would not re-emerge until his maturity.

Brenda Harris was our full throated (if somewhat taxed) heroine; Victoria Simmonds gave a delightful performance as the lesser sister. Justin Lavender made much of the father's role and George Mosely was a stalwart king. Best voice of the night was Susan Gorton in the comprimario maid role of Francisca. I remember her as a gorgeous voice as Mama Lucia in WNO's Cavalleria rusticana. The whole was led by Andrew Greenwood whilst the production by Aidan Lang was simple but effective - Renaissance Spain is always a black and white parquet floor with the occasional globe to show the background world domination.

The whole event was quite a discovery and well worth four stars.

I had a quick extra healing session on the Monday to de-stress myself. My angel cards had suggested that surrender was one of the ways in which I could move forwards so I let myself go in Janet's capable care. I picked up a crystal en route - an Agate which looked very like a Carnelian.

From there it was just a brief respite before I was off to give one of my Professional Skills courses at Oxford with young Phil. The venue was Keble College and it was, all in all, a very Harry Potterish experience. Sitting to eat in the Great Hall, there was an unspoken expectation that hoards of owls would swoop down at any moment bringing the post with them.

The general architecture was a superb example of that high Victorian Gothic that I roundly dislike. However, it was quite magnificent of its sort. I spent some time in the chapel composing myself and found Holman Hunt's 1853 painting The Light of the World which portrays the Christ figure in a sort of silk shift carrying a lantern and knocking on a door. It was very famous in its day but looks terribly contrived now.

One of the many delights of the week was meeting up with long time colleague and friend, Jane, who works in Oxford. She was accompanied by six month old Felix who is, as they all are at that age, a complete delight. He and I spent a good ten minutes laughing at each other. There is no better tonic in all the world than the clean, clear energy of a young person.

The course was a great success as these things tend to be despite my first night nerves - I always have this fear that this is the time I'm going to be found out and denounced as a great fraud. And then it was time for home and Phil and I braved the drive through Birmingham during the rush hour. I'll swear that there were times when our progress on the M6 was slower than that of India nudging into the Himalayas.

Still I was back in Crosby in time to sit outside in my back garden in the twilight and take a sip from some whisky, get a hug from Ross and a purr from Nutkin before heading off to bed. There was a small outbreak of intimacy the following morning. The last time such an act occurred was in early June when Ross had been away at his parents. The next time I'm due to go away is in December. I suppose I'll have to wait until then before the next time. It's a far remove from those days of constantly dropping pennies into the jar.

There was hardly pause for breath before we were off the following night to Chester for a performance at the Music Festival given by The King's Consort. It was an all Purcell affair with a Welcome Ode in the first half and Dido and Æneas in the second. The Ode was well performed but not especially memorable. The opera was splendid. It was much more real and theatrical than the performance which Rod and I attended at the English Bach Festival in 1999.

Diana Moore's mezzo was a little hard edged for full pleasure but her When I am laid in earth was very moving. I preferred Elizabeth Cragg's sweet toned Belinda whilst Charles Humphries gave a high voltage performance as the Sorceress. All the smaller parts were taken with great gusto. Another good night out to round the week off.