The moral of this story is clear: be careful what you wish for.
Within minutes of my posting a blog in which I mourned the lost days before global air travel and instant communications, a discreet little volcanic eruption was arranged and the first of my wishes was granted. Then Vodafone accidentally cut off my blackberry.
I'm now on a train, one of about 10 trains in fact, lasting around 17 hours in total, that should eventually get me home 4 days after I was meant to fly from Sweden to Paris.
And I have learnt that it isn't quite the romantic, relaxing picture I had thought it would be.
Imagine a world, I'd thought, where the time it took to cross countries was days rather than hours. How much slower our pace of life would be. How much more time we would have during travel for reflection, reading, writing, enjoying the landscape and having arty thoughts.
In reality I am standing for the 6th hour straight, hungry, hot, aggressively tired and without an arty thought in my head.
My wife texted me to suggest I wrote my blog during this useful free time on the train. I bet Prokofiev's wife wouldn't have texted him that. Anyway, he would have replied "I have a near complete sketch of the new 3rd symphony in my head now, the second subject of the last movement came to me fully formed as we passed through Siberia".
All I could manage was "I can't write coz I'm facing backwards and I'll probably be sick."
Still, there have been moments of good will among passengers. Lots of talk about volcanoes. A lady next to me offered me an extraordinarily revolting sweet which I didn't have the heart to spit out once I'd accepted it.
But all things said and done, I'm quite ready to rejoin the 21st century.
Sunday, 18 April 2010
Saturday, 27 March 2010
A thoughtful airport moment
On Sunday, I was sitting in Stanstead airport, delayed, and annoyed. I was only there because my Heathrow flight with BA was cancelled due to the strike, and all my plans had to be changed. So I started to wonder what would happen if I said I no longer wanted to fly, ever, anywhere. Like the old days. If it means crossing water, I'll get a boat.
While I'm following this train of thought, how about I throw out my mobile phone too. Just travel the world with a pen and paper, on a boat.
I've often thought about this. The stories my old teacher Ruggiero Ricci used to tell, of learning to play the 5th caprice of Paganini, backwards, or of learning left hand pizzicato because it was the only technique he could practice lying in bed, could only belong to a time without planes, high-speed trains, blackberries and, of course, TV. My generation has come of age, slightly awkwardly, during the exact time the internet took over the world. We didn't have computers as children, but have had to build careers and lives in an age which revolves around them completely.
I shall use mine to watch a movie on the plane, to keep up with emails, to skype with my 2 year old daughter when I arrive. A daughter who thinks I exist in two forms- in person and on a computer screen- neither particularly less odd than the other. She will grow up completely at one with the technology my parents are still fairly confused by.
But, this year, for the first time, we will take a holiday- a no-phone holiday, where the only criteria are flip-flops and a hat. And maybe I'll learn the 5th caprice, backwards.
While I'm following this train of thought, how about I throw out my mobile phone too. Just travel the world with a pen and paper, on a boat.
I've often thought about this. The stories my old teacher Ruggiero Ricci used to tell, of learning to play the 5th caprice of Paganini, backwards, or of learning left hand pizzicato because it was the only technique he could practice lying in bed, could only belong to a time without planes, high-speed trains, blackberries and, of course, TV. My generation has come of age, slightly awkwardly, during the exact time the internet took over the world. We didn't have computers as children, but have had to build careers and lives in an age which revolves around them completely.
I shall use mine to watch a movie on the plane, to keep up with emails, to skype with my 2 year old daughter when I arrive. A daughter who thinks I exist in two forms- in person and on a computer screen- neither particularly less odd than the other. She will grow up completely at one with the technology my parents are still fairly confused by.
But, this year, for the first time, we will take a holiday- a no-phone holiday, where the only criteria are flip-flops and a hat. And maybe I'll learn the 5th caprice, backwards.
Friday, 12 March 2010
Never forget...
Finally home after another long trip. This time I came close to actually drowning in all the music I had to play, but there were some lovely concerts along the way.
I sometimes feel that playing music for a living is a little like childbirth. (For the mother that is, not the child.)I mean this in as much as that you forget, completely, just how stressful something was almost as soon as you finish doing it. I can be standing backstage, swearing blind to all who will listen that I have had enough, and that a life of simplistic pleasures was all I ever really wanted, and I can't imagine how I ended up doing something so silly and so stressful. 29 minutes later I'm busy explaining how my only real sadness is that I don't play a concert every day.
I'm very happily relaxing in Paris now though, with a concert on Sunday to raise money for Haiti, which is the least we can do really.
Then back on the road Monday.
I sometimes feel that playing music for a living is a little like childbirth. (For the mother that is, not the child.)I mean this in as much as that you forget, completely, just how stressful something was almost as soon as you finish doing it. I can be standing backstage, swearing blind to all who will listen that I have had enough, and that a life of simplistic pleasures was all I ever really wanted, and I can't imagine how I ended up doing something so silly and so stressful. 29 minutes later I'm busy explaining how my only real sadness is that I don't play a concert every day.
I'm very happily relaxing in Paris now though, with a concert on Sunday to raise money for Haiti, which is the least we can do really.
Then back on the road Monday.
Wednesday, 10 February 2010
And the winner is.....
A few nights ago I was doing jury service for the BBC Young Musician String Finals. Maybe I just keep getting older, but it seems to me like they get younger and younger. And better and better. I'm not allowed to say who won but all I can say is there was some unbelievable talent.
As I was suffering from one of my daughter's many stomach bugs while I was there, and looked "a bit peaky" in the words of the make-up lady, I had to spend twice as much time as anyone else getting made up. And I still looked awful.
Still, I marvelled at how the contestants dealt with the pressures of the TV and of the competition in general. It takes a certain kind of nerve to cope with such a situation.
Looking forward to watching the grand final in May.....
As I was suffering from one of my daughter's many stomach bugs while I was there, and looked "a bit peaky" in the words of the make-up lady, I had to spend twice as much time as anyone else getting made up. And I still looked awful.
Still, I marvelled at how the contestants dealt with the pressures of the TV and of the competition in general. It takes a certain kind of nerve to cope with such a situation.
Looking forward to watching the grand final in May.....
Friday, 29 January 2010
Last night we had dinner in a lovely fish restaurant on the sea front. We were served a drink which the waiter swore was milk, but which clearly wasn't as it tasted spicy and was at least 60% alcohol. Together with huge salads and lots of toast it was a fabulous meal.
Now I sit on my bed watching Tony Blair giving his evidence on Iraq with the sun shining on the sea outside my window. Pretty soon it'll be time for a club sandwich.
Now I sit on my bed watching Tony Blair giving his evidence on Iraq with the sun shining on the sea outside my window. Pretty soon it'll be time for a club sandwich.
Thursday, 28 January 2010
Turkey Club Sandwich
Today I am in the beautiful city of Ismir, Turkey.
There is a large cargo boat drifting past my window, and a thick mist on the horizon. Palm trees too, loads of them. There are so many places I've never been, each time I visit a new one I'm amazed at what I didn't know existed. (Obviously I knew palm trees existed, but there is still something very exotic about them.) This hotel has a view to compete with the best- picture to follow.
Everyone so far has been extremely friendly, and the concert hall is really fabulous. I'm here to play Britten concerto, which is one of my very favourites, but unbelievably difficult.
Since the concert is tomorrow, I shall prepare by having a huge feast tonight, as I consider eating and drinking an important part of my pre-concert build-up. It's like being a boxer, working towards a fight, training towards that one, crucial event. Except with perhaps more lying in bed eating club sandwiches. And no exercising.
I'm actually on a personal mission to find the most expensive club sandwich in the world. Monaco is currently in the lead at £28. Here it's only £16 which sounds like a bargain.
More soon.
There is a large cargo boat drifting past my window, and a thick mist on the horizon. Palm trees too, loads of them. There are so many places I've never been, each time I visit a new one I'm amazed at what I didn't know existed. (Obviously I knew palm trees existed, but there is still something very exotic about them.) This hotel has a view to compete with the best- picture to follow.
Everyone so far has been extremely friendly, and the concert hall is really fabulous. I'm here to play Britten concerto, which is one of my very favourites, but unbelievably difficult.
Since the concert is tomorrow, I shall prepare by having a huge feast tonight, as I consider eating and drinking an important part of my pre-concert build-up. It's like being a boxer, working towards a fight, training towards that one, crucial event. Except with perhaps more lying in bed eating club sandwiches. And no exercising.
I'm actually on a personal mission to find the most expensive club sandwich in the world. Monaco is currently in the lead at £28. Here it's only £16 which sounds like a bargain.
More soon.
Saturday, 16 January 2010
No soap
I am sitting in an airport hotel, having just boarded a plane, waited 2 hours, and got off it again. The French air traffic controllers are on strike, so we are stuck in Copenhagen. Tomorrow I was to be in Paris, now I will have to go straight to London. The ironic part of this is that I am in a hotel which has no soap. A Hilton hotel, with all kinds of shiny things dangling from the ceilings, and a room rate which made me cry real tears, but they have run out of soap. It's ironic because they ordered it from London, and the snow prevented it from arriving. So the weather is currently effecting my travel plans to the point that I am having to wash my hands with shower gel.
A word on travelling. I don't particularly like travelling, truth be told, in as much as the actual getting from one place to another. I'm convinced that it is bad for the body to be hurled forwards and backwards at such speeds but I can't prove that fact yet. I find it tiring, and I always feel travel sick. This means I'm not much good at reading while travelling so it's pretty boring too. I quite like train journeys as they are usually fairly straightforward. You can look out the window, (unless you're sitting backwards in which case you'd better keep your eyes shut) and there's no checkin, security control, passport check, shuttle to terminal, bus to plane, boarding, safety briefing, taxi to runway, take-off, landing, taxi to parking spot, bus to terminal, baggage collection, passport check….
With a train, you just get on, and then get off when you arrive.
I do like hotels though, in general. When they have soap.
A word on travelling. I don't particularly like travelling, truth be told, in as much as the actual getting from one place to another. I'm convinced that it is bad for the body to be hurled forwards and backwards at such speeds but I can't prove that fact yet. I find it tiring, and I always feel travel sick. This means I'm not much good at reading while travelling so it's pretty boring too. I quite like train journeys as they are usually fairly straightforward. You can look out the window, (unless you're sitting backwards in which case you'd better keep your eyes shut) and there's no checkin, security control, passport check, shuttle to terminal, bus to plane, boarding, safety briefing, taxi to runway, take-off, landing, taxi to parking spot, bus to terminal, baggage collection, passport check….
With a train, you just get on, and then get off when you arrive.
I do like hotels though, in general. When they have soap.
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