The Frosts Arrive
26 October

Well, having had a pleasantly mild autumn so far, we've just had our first frosts and I'm exceedingly glad not to be driving into work.

Cars are iced over. The back garden pond is frozen over. The cats are complaining. Pundits are reckoning on a hard winter ahead.

This all sounds to me like the usual doom saying though some are noting that bad winters tend to come in bunches and the 2008/2009 and 2009/10 seasons were bleak enough.

One major sadness I have to report is the death of Dame Joan Sutherland on 10 October just short of her 84th birthday. I only heard her sing twice - in Massenet's Esclarmonde and Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor (and the latter was one of the most memorable nights I have ever spent in the lyric theatre).

However, under Colin's guidance, it was listening to her recital disks which opened up for me the world of bel canto and made me love the genre.

With Charles Mackerras dying back in July, I have lost two of my icons and idols in the space of a few months.

At the other end of the age spectrum, the 2010 Commonwealth Games came to an end recently and all of the excitement on the gay bulletin boards was caused by synchronised divers Tom Daley and Max Brick who looked stupendous and also gained a gold medal in their category.

Tom then went on to secure a gold medal on his own.

The point is that, while we are all admiring their perfectly honed physiques shown off to perfection in service to their sport, it is difficult to remember that, whilst Max Brick may be eighteen, Tom Daley is only sixteen years old. I mean good God, look at those thigh muscles - that is if you can tear your eyes away from the glutei maximi.

At least, come the Olympics in 2012, they will both be over eighteen and I shall not feel quite so dirty about perving over them.

Last weekend, Ross and I had a meal with Sam and his parents here in Crosby at the Fat Italian which was very pleasant.

This weekend, the major activity has been another visit to FACT with Roland for a simultaneous telecast from the Metropolitan Opera of Mussorgsky's opera Boris Godunov. It had been twenty-six years since I had last attended a performance of Das Rheingold. Boris Godunov had not fared so badly; it had been only eighteen years since I last saw that work in the theatre.

I am glad that I have seen it again; I am glad that I saw the full version with the Polish act. However good it was, however, I doubt that I shall ever feel the need to sit through it again.

It was all reasonably well staged. I liked René Pape's Boris. Valery Gergiev conducted with authority. It is simply not an aesthetic to which I feel ineluctably drawn.

Then half term week was upon us and brought a visit from Linda and Mary. Linda brought mum and dad over to visit us. We went to the Olive Tree for lunch and went down to the beach afterwards.

For all of his lack of focus, dad remains quite remarkable for 86 and very jolly with it.

Back home, Ross has bought the complete set of DVDs for the recent sci fi series of Battlestar Galactica. Under most normal circumstances, I would not be seen dead watching television of this order. However, I have to say that there were parts of the series that were very fine indeed.

I particularly liked the episodes at the beginning of series three which are set in a colony on New Caprica under Cylon occupation. The show tackled themes like suicide bombers and water boarding - big political issues in 2006 when the episodes were first shown on American television.

There was also a regulation amount of hot male tottie liberally sprinkled about and it's good to note that Englishman, Jamie Bamber, did a lot to keep his end up. I knew that I had heard him in Brideshead Revisited on Radio Four's Classic Serial but I was surprised to find, thanks to this Journal, that I had also seen him (and liked him) in Dr Faustus at the Liverpool Playhouse.

Clearly, he is quite capable of taking on major parts.

We've also settled in for the (ninth) autumn season of Spooks and it continues to hold its own as a superior British made thriller-style series. But, good Lord, who have they got as the Home Secretary representing the newly formed coalition government?

It's none other than Simon Russell Beale doing his jovial, twinkling but able to turn nasty at any moment characterisation. Does the man know no limits?