Post 516. BEEN AND GONE.

 THE PROMS.

LAST NIGHT.
We watched the last night of the Proms part one (BBC2) and two (BBC1) slightly perplexed that eight weeks had gone by and we seemed to have missed most pf it. Oh well. The run back programmes didn't convince me we'd missed much. I'm too old for musical re-education.
But the last night was good. American mezzo-soprano Angel Blue proved to be the right choice in every respect, and her appearances with English concert pianist Sir Stephen Hough were high spots in an eclectic programme. The Promenaders expect a show-stopping encore nowadays and, in Stephen Hough's own arrangement of the Sherman Brothers Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, they got exactly what they had been waiting for. Wonderful. 
There was the usual cheerful, harmless, rendition of inane lyrics to superb Elgar tunes, a nice little speech from BBC Symphony Orchestra  conductor Sakari Oramo and it was time for Katie Derham to close it all down for another year. Been and gone.
HEALTH.
I'm still getting very tired. It's to be expected. Had one (thankfully brief) moment of haematuria (Consutant Mr. Akhtar warned me I would) but currently as close to normal as I can hope to be.  Mo still struggles daily and seldom complains. That's age, my dears, that's age. 

FILM.
We watched a rather good modernish western. Two old guys of the sheriff ilk. Can't remember the title. They both got through it anyway.  It was never a big name production but we enjoyed it.

MO's AT THE IRONING AS USUAL. 

I'M FINISHED HERE FOR NOW.
CHEERS ALL

Post 515. AN UNUSUAL WEEK

FOR US 

SOME NEW FRIENDS. 
Becky, an experienced nurse, and Connor, a soon-to-be GP, visited us last week, They came from Mountbatten Hospice. Newport, to acquaint us with the myriad activities and treatments currently underway at the hospice, and to induct me into the Mountbatten Coordination Centre to which I had been referred (by whom I am still not sure). They were friendly and lively and a breath of fresh air, and such time as I have left in this world already feels the better for their visit.
I seldom leave the house now, so to what extent Mo and I will be able to take up their invitation to visit the obviously highly active  on-site John Cheverton Centre, let alone the cafe, is unsure.

But we'll see. 
TELEVISION.
We watched films this weekend. Best of the bunch was Big Game (2014) starring Samuel L. Jackson as the President of the USA and Onni Tommila as a Finnish boy who saves him from those who should be protecting him. The film was made in Finland and the director was Jalmari Helander  Very watchable.

HOME.
Our grandson has been away, so the house felt empty. 

He got back whilst I was writing this
All is well.

I'm off for a doze.
Cheerio.

Post 514. OOPS AGAIN!

ERRATIC POSTAL DELIVERY

APPOINTMENT MISSED.
There was nothing in our post box for about a week. Then there was a bundle of four letters. One of them inviting me to a diabetic eye screening examination on the day before my four letters arrived. I phoned. They understood. I have a new appointment. What a palaver. Everything is on line or by letter now. The NHS is fast becoming the THS (Telephonic Health Service). Each branch of it increasingly relies on confirming appointments by letter. And the British Post Office is fast becoming reliable only for its unreliability. When we moved to this village in 1968 our house had a name. No number. Didn't need one, Postman had been doing the job since before the war. Yesterday our grandson, tracking a parcel being delivered by Royal Mail, finished up with a picture on his phone showing him the parcel had been delivered to some place he has never set eyes on in his life. Clearly technology cannot compete with experience, And we long ago lost our village post office. Sad innit? All small stuff in an increasingly insane world.
THE NATIONALISTIC NUTCASES..
Here they come, out of the woodwork, the nationalistic nutcases. Give 'em an excuse, any excuse, and they will bring their ignorant violence into play. Their latest excuse is the murderous attack on an innocent group of dancing children. The attack had nothing whatsoever to do with illegal immigration, but try telling the nationalistic nutcases that. It was rock throwing at policemen time, and looting, car burning, destroying property, time. It was anarchy. Now the law is hitting them. Quick trials: long prison sentences. Serves the buggers right. We don't need them.
TELEVISION.
Apart from the mostly bad news, the always ignorable adverts, and the constantly repeated repeats, there have been a couple of decent watches of late.
Wicked Ltttle Letters, a 2023 film directed by Thea Sharrock, written by Jonny Sweet. starring Jessie Buckley, Olivia Coleman, and Timothy Spall. Splendid cast. Appalling language..Mesmerising film.A Kanneh-Mason Playlist at the Proms. Sheku (cello), Braimah (violin), and guitarist Plinio Fernandes, with the superb Fantasia orchestra conducted by Tom Fetherstonhaugh. Exquisite. Totally musical. Not a wrong note anywhere. I loved every second of it. And they even played Dvorak's Song To The Moon: (came close to equalling Renee Fleming's definitive recording, too), So far as the rest of the Proms are concerned, they have a tough act to follow.

That's me for now.
Be safe.

Post 513, A SCENE OR A TUNE

 STAYS WITH YOU.

OFTEN LITTLE ELSE
The actor James Stewart once said no film is ever remembered in its entirety, it is remembered for one particular scene, and without that scene it would never be remembered at all.
He was a smart fella. I have always remembered My Darling Clementine (1946) for the scene where Henry Fonda dragged an unconscious  troublemaker out of a saloon by his heels, and I have never forgotten Richard Widmark, complete with maniacal laughter, hurtling an old lady in a wheelchair down a flight of  stairs in the 1947 film Kiss of Death. For that matter, James Stewart's little horse walking down a dark street on its own in The Far Country is a classic.
I believe the rule applies to music, too.
If my memory serves me aright, years ago there was a musical boffin in America who was called into court to settle highly expensive lawsuits brought by musical tunesmiths of the day agin each other for plagiarism. The boffin would quickly prove that the tune in dispute could not have been plagiarised, it was not modern: it came from the likes of Bach, Purcell, Liszt, Mozart etc.
Over the years entire scores have been produced in such a way
Saint Saens Symphony No.3 - the Organ Symphony - contained the tune that became the theme for that delightful film Babe. The highly mannered film Brief Encounter may have quietly disappeared had it not been for Serge Rachmaninoff's Second Piano Concerto, and television's Onedin Line would surely have been forgotten were it not for The Adagio from Spartacus.
Technically i am devoid of musical nous. Can't read a note. Fortunately there was always music in our house when I was a boy. Both my parents played an instrument - father piano, mother violin - and both were members of respected choirs in the city. So I have a good musical ear. Easily sift the tuneful from the discordant. Heartily dislike the discordant. Am too old to change my mind.

So far as the scene or tune that stays with you applies, I would have cheerfully dismissed both the Brahms and the Shostakovich second piano concertos had the Brahms not been blessed with the magical cello/piano duet and the Shostakovich with that glorious Andante. Peter Donohoe performs the latter beautifully, and would be invited to play it at my personal Last Night of the Proms this year. What? No, of course it won't happen. I'm not an expert: It would be good, though, wouldn't it? Tatyana Nikolaeva was an enormous success playing it on the 1992 Last Night. About time it was aired in that way again. Let's hear it for Peter Donahoe

That's all for now..

        

 .

Post 512. SUMMER IS HERE.

IT ARRIVED YESTERDAY.

WE WENT TO THE DENTIST.
Mo drove us to Ventnor for the yearly dental check-up. I was OK I think Mo has a bit of tinkering to take care of  and will be visiting again at the end of the month. It was a pleasure to meet up with Tim Fradgley. and his lovely crew again. As experiences go it far outweighed sitting on a beach in the sunshine: I was sunburned in Cyprus over seventy years ago. Now I admire summer from a sensible distance.

TELEVISION.
The High Country. We binge-watched this Australian series. Yeah. OK. Interesting.
FOOTBALL.
England lost to Spain, so the bookies were right. When aren't they?

TENNIS.
Mo watched the Wimbledon finals and said they were good.. I had a sleep.
THE PROMS.

They're back! The 2024 BBC Proms started on Friday, 19th July, with a largely female slant, Clive Imrie, Sandi Toksvig, and Nicola Benedetti were the presenters. The BBC Symphony Orchestra was conducted by Elim Chan. The programme ended with Beethoven's 5th Symphony,. Worth staying with, if only for that. I usually avoid gimmick nights, and modern so-called music is anathema to me: but the orchestra  was in fine form and Ms Chan is a splendid conductor. A promising start.

Come Last Night let's have no nonsense over Land of Hope and Glory.
The lyrics are rubbish, but it doesn't kill anyone.  
.

 

Post 511. POWER TENDS TO CORRUPT.

 ABSOLUTE POWER CORRUPTS ABSOLUTELY.

LORD ACTON, 1887.
Yes, it was on April 5th, 1887 that those wise words were written to  Archbishop of the Church of England, Bishop Creighton, by John Dalberg-Acton, Lord Acton was a historian, politician, writer, and thoroughly worthwhile human being. He was also an English Catholic, which did not always make life easy for him. His words are particularly apposite now.
THE TORIES ARE OUT.
As predicted, it was a Labour landslide and the Tories were swept away. If you are a devout socialist, don't crow. No matter how high its majority, the new government has been left with an impossible repair job. Take a logical look at it. Health, schools, social services, local government, water, gas, electricity, transport: a shambles, the lot of it. No government could put it right in five years. For that matter, I doubt any government will ever put it right.
Perhaps Sir Keir Starmer and his crew have a chance to introduce a smidgin of parliamentary change beyond the customary playground squabbling. But I doubt that, too.

Test 'em: don't trust 'em. 
FOOTBALL
So England is through to the final of the UEFA European Football Championships, Euro 2024. 

Hurray for them. Spain is the other finalist and the bookies favourite to win. Hmm. .

TENNIS.
Great coverage on television if you are a tennis fan: a load of balls if you're not. 

New balls, please.
TELEVISION.
We watched 1883 on Prime Video. It was an ominous western miniseries starring Sam Elliott, Isabel May, Tim McGraw and Faith Hill with a superb team of fellow actors. Wonderful viewing.

HEALTH.

There was talk of another 5 radiotherapy sessions for me at Queen Alexandra Hospital, Portsmouth. A nice volunteer driver called Paul took me, and a fellow patient, Robert, to the hospital yesterday. I was born and bred in Pompey. Don't know the place now. Talked seriously to the hospital team's spokesperson about my current situation. Heard the possible side-effects of  more radiotherapy. Not for me. I have two life threatening illnesses and, if I last that long, will be 94 in September. The majority of my contemporaries have long departed this world. I'll push on. 
Thanks for the offer, though, Q.A.

Good luck to you and all who sail with you. 

Poat 510. I.W.. FESTIVAL 2024.

ATTRACTED 50/60,000 FANS.

GREEN DAY TOPPED THE BILL.
A long weekend of cheerful bedlam (don't talk to the people who live nearby and weren't making money out of it), and then it was over for another year.  Experienced and talented rock band Green Day, formed in 1987 by lead singer Billy Joe Armstrong and bassist/singer Mike Dirnt, brought the proceedings to a highly successful conclusion.
Our grandson, Ellis (bass guitar), had a short spell in the Platform One tent. Mo and I have a video of it sent to us by his father, Mark. So far as the main show went, we sat in our armchairs and watched selections on Sky Arts. We're too bloody old for huge crowds. I always have been.
Rumour has it the organizers have renewed their booking of the site for the next ten years.
Well, the festival doesn't last long, and the fans (despite the shit they leave behind) are a breath of fresh air. Pity so many businesses are no longer around to benefit from their visit.
FOOTBALL.
Aided by her husband's unceasing invective, Mo has become an expert on how not to score goals. Goals are not scored by immaculately passing the ball from one side of the middle line to the other side of the middle line and back again. Goals are not scored by playing 'from me to you' for endless minutes in your own half of the field. And in England's case currently: goals are not scored. Nothing is helped by those silly camera decisions either. It's all a load of rubbish, ain't it. Very expensive rubbish. I watched about twenty minutes of one England game then looked for:
A FILM.

I found a great old western, The Far Country (1954), starring James Stewart, Ruth Roman, Walter Brennan, Corinne Calvet, and John McIntire. It was directed by Anthony Mann and is best remembered for the scene where James Stewart's horse ("That little horse liked me. He nearly killed Glen Ford: ran right into a tree") with a bell on its saddle pommel, walked alone down a long dark street to fool the villains into showing their fire power. Great scene. Great old western.
We got back in time for the end of the football. Nil - Nil. So to:
READING.

I held out when I should have known better. I avoided Richard Osman on the grounds that he is a media man, and I seldom like media men. If you can walk into a television studio the day your book is published and sell several thousand copies of it before you depart, you're on to a pretty good thing are you not? So I let prejudice rule my head and, despite disappointment with two Times best selling suggestions from Amazon, ignored granddaughter Jess's sound words on The Thursday Murder Club: "It's a good book."

It is a good book. Very good. 

So good that we have now invested in the other three of Mr Osman's Thursday Murder Club quartet: The Man Who Died Twice, The Bullet That Missed, and The Last Devil To Die.

Ah-h-h. They'll be so much better than football on television.

Enjoy what you like.