Postcards from the edge
Thursday 16 May 2013
A miracle
It has been an epic, six year journey, beginning right at the beginning, when we first created a foundation in memory of our son, Lenny.
Coming up with a CD which kids would want to listen to over and over again, and that their parents might actually want to play as well, was the mission.
For this purpose we immediately knew we needed at least one very handsome actor.
The music was easy- musicians are generally a friendly, reliable bunch, who will usually keep a diary and offer to pencil in a date 6 months ahead.
Not so actors.
The excitement on getting an email from a famous actor's PA confirming he would like to take part was often immediately replaced by panic as the following word was 'tomorrow'.
Rolling up to record Clive Owen carrying a small sponge cake was a personal highlight.
Seriously, what do you buy as a thank you gift for the man who has everything?
I think we can agree the answer to that question is not 'a small sponge cake.'
I even offered to give him a violin lesson, but curiously I haven't heard back from him on that.
But the generosity of spirit everyone showed with this project was extraordinary.
Not only did they all show up, but each person gave their all and the performances are fabulous.
All in the name of helping very ill babies.
So here it is- we managed to find our musicians, record them, find our actors, record them, design our cover, and it's done. It's actually a miracle it only took six years.
http://www.orchidclassics.com/ftl.htm
Sunday 27 May 2012
Running in shiny trousers
I have always heard that after exercise one feels far more energetic for the rest of the day.
I have not found this to be the case.
No matter what time I run I feel exhausted until bedtime, and often find it's the most I can do to stay partially awake whilst lying on the couch with a cold flannel on my head.
At such times I am thankful that my daughter is now of an age (4) where she can be sponsored to go and fetch things from other rooms, which helps me to avoid any excess movement. A single jelly baby will buy you a favour ranging from passing the remote to fixing you an iced drink, although the latter often ends in tears and a clear up more painful than the initial task would have been had I done it myself.
I am trying to be less sedentary though, and to make more sensible life choices.
Having years ago found that coffe made me anxious, I started drinking decaf. But this, it turns out, still makes me anxious. So I switched to hot chocolate, as I decided it was surely better to be fat than to be anxious.
Missing the taste of the old decaf espresso, and now addicted to the sugar rush of the Starbucks chocolate syrup, I have now opted to be both fat and anxious by selecting the Mocha as my daily drink.
In any case, I try. In certain senses I even enjoy my efforts to reverse the ageing process.
However I shall be holding off on the inevitable shiny trouser purchase for a little while longer.
Thursday 29 March 2012
Malmo Festival and Olympics
And what a lovely weekend it was.
The weather was magnificent, which led to a new creation which was born immediately after the last concert finished:
The Malmo Olympics.
Focusing mainly on 100 metre sprints and relays, the Games took place on the running track which sits invitingly next to the Malmo Academy, and I am pleased to report they were incredibly exciting.
There was everything a great Olympic competition requires: brilliance, ineptness, injury and, in at least one case, an athlete throwing up in the taxi home due to over-exertion.
The results were conclusive, and embarrassing.
Meghan Cassidy from the Solstice Quartet took the gold in the 100 metres, beating all the boys and performing a dive over the finish line that was nothing short of perplexing since she was already massively in the lead, and it resulted in a serious loss of blood.
But the relay race was by all accounts a thriller.
Ashley Wass, usually so adept with his fingers, fumbled the baton when I passed it to him costing our team dearly. We still might have won had he not then become distracted after around 70 metres, veering off course to kick a football.
In any case, next year this addition to the festival is a certain fixture and I'm already selling tickets.
The concerts?
Yes. They were nice too.
The magnificent Paladium was a pleasure to play in, and the audiences thoroughly appreciative of our efforts.
Callum Smart played a blinding recital which everyone is still talking about, even if mostly in hushed, jealous tones due to his being only 15 years old and better than it is polite to be at that age. (We didn't invite him to the Olympics as that would have been too much to bear.)
Guy Johnston spending half a day rehearsing, travelling and getting dressed in full concert gear for a 3 minute performance of the Swan was another highlight, and I for one found that hilarious.
Memories which will live long in my mind, thanks to all who made it possible.
Saturday 3 March 2012
Sparkly Elephants
My hotel was in the middle of a mountain, with sheep and everything, so I was compelled to walk as far up it as I could in order to get closer to the sheep, but my phone rang and I needed better reception so I had to put my ambitious plans on hold.
Such friendly people there. I got to know a chap who referees camel fights for instance. You might think I'd have little in common with such a person, but we got on like a house on fire- despite his not speaking any English and my Turkish sounding more like made up Japanese than an actual language.
I had a fabulous meal last night too- six courses, all of them fish.
I really do like the place hugely, the scenery is completely spectacular and there was a shiny sparkly elephant in my hotel lobby. Next to a full size replica of a horse with a lampshade on its head.
And they love music- the audience at last night's concert was so attentive and warm, with crowds of well-wishers afterwards which always makes a musician happy.
I wish every trip offered so much that I don't see every day.
Friday 23 December 2011
Theft and other festive activities
Monday 9 May 2011
Thomas Carroll gets badly misinterpreted.....
Saturday 7 May 2011
Lost in translation
I've been studying French this morning.
Language is a strange thing. A few days ago on a train in Germany, a ticket inspector was staggeringly rude to me because I spoke English to him. I honestly thought he was going to punch me in the face, despite the fact that I was sitting down and it would've meant his leaning over a large suitcase.
To an extent it's fair enough to be angry when someone comes to your country and expects you to speak their language, so I apologise for that. But it would be impossible for me to learn conversational skills in the language of every country I end up in, so in that sense I guess I'm lucky to be English, as my native language is spoken or understood all across the world.
I can see that that must be seriously annoying to those who aren't English though.
But there are different types of travellers. I was in Mexico a few years ago and was constantly impressed by the behaviour of my friend who ate local food from street vendors, (the orchestra had actually advised us not to), insulted local taxi drivers in Spanish when they overcharged us, and seemed to have an intrinsic knowledge of Mexican culture. I've heard he's like that everywhere he goes.
I like to think I have a level of curiosity, I am interested to find out about the places I visit, but I'm also a man of home comforts. I have CNN on the telly. The further I am from home the more I like to drink Starbucks coffee, and read the Guardian on my laptop. There's enough to think about when you're travelling, so those things you know to be a certain way, even if they aren't the best, provide me with great happiness.
Actually, I do speak some German, but I forgot nearly all of it whilst being insulted by the chap selling me my train ticket.
But it has reinvigorated my desire not to be the English guy who only speaks English.
I have a French lesson booked for next week, and I shall in future be ready for anything.