18.4

Some years ago, I went through a phase of going to hear Beethoven's Op.18.4 string quartet as often as it could be managed, on one occasion travelling to Cambridge for the purpose. A phase which has now more or less worked itself out, but I still like the piece and still go when it is conveniently on offer. Which it was, on two recent occasions. I selected the second of the two, with the Schumann Quartet, rather than going for both. We were also to get some Brahms, which I did not know, but was happy enough to take on as a make-weight. We had heard heard the Schumann's at least once before, as noticed at reference 2. A concert over which the Guardian managed to gush.

The day in question was an overcast Monday which, because we were going to a lunchtime concert, felt like a Sunday. A misplacing of day which seems to happen from time to time. We took folding umbrellas but, in the event, were pretty lucky with the weather, although there was some rain. 

Maybe I will get some blackberries from the West Hill railway bridge this year. Another first.

An interesting floral display under the country platform at Epsom. Maybe they like all the electro-magnetic waves which must be swilling about.

Our mid-morning train to Waterloo was busy, while the tube from Vauxhall was hot. All-Bar-One between quiet and busy. For once, thinking of late lunch, I took a slice of cake with my tea, something involving oranges as I recall, but perfectly acceptable.

While we sat, we noticed a young lady, perhaps 30 or so, park her Lime hire bike (or some such) really awkwardly, between the entrance to the Boots and the traffic lights, across the road. Blocking a chunk of pavement and completely thoughtless. She could just as well propped it up against the Boots' window, out of the way. With BH having been annoyed earlier by a young man weaving his way along the pavement - a pavement with a fair sprinkling of pedestrians, at least half of whom would not have known that he was there. Hopefully, not too far into the future, public & police opinion will turn against this sort of thing and start to bear down on it.

On into the Wigmore Hall to find flowers in red. Anthuriums, carnations, asters. With a bit of chromatic variety offered by some mixed freesias. And a backdrop of green. All very effective. There were a lot of school children in the hall on this occasion, some quite young, say top primary, and I don't suppose many of them noticed the flowers.

Unfortunately, the cellist had been unable to make it and they had found someone - one Simon Iachemet - at what must have been very short notice to stand in. But the price we paid for non-cancellation was a change of programme, presumably to something that the new cellist thought he could cope with at short notice, although I was slightly surprised as I had thought that, as Beethoven string quartets went, 18.4 was easy enough to play. Whatever the case, it put me out of joint, and I did not enjoy Mozart No.16 as much as I think I would have, had I not been taken by surprise. Then rather unexpectedly, got on better with the Brahms.

The regular members of the quartet were wearing smart blue shirts and dark trousers, all very neat and tidy. Which suits me: smart casual yes, casual no. Sloppy dress shirts were perhaps from Fortuny on account of the way that they had been pleated. Not a matter I am qualified to comment on, but maybe reference 3 will help those who care about such matters. Although I do associate to the narrator in Proust spending a lot of money on dresses from the same place, an association which Bing confirms at reference 4.

Afterwards, off to John Lewis cafeteria for a spot of what turned out to be a Spanish flavoured stew. Adequate rather than good. But we had some entertainment in the form of a rather odd person, possibly a bag man (more commonly females, that is to say bag ladies), with a strange trolley contraption with a strange collection of stuff - fancy goods rather than anything useful - hung off it. We wondered whether most of it had been pinched.

Afterwards, off to the cheese shop in Covent Garden. Taking in, what had been, when we were very young, perhaps not that long married, a fine steak house, at least for the purposes of lunch. I remember it as being called Stars, but neither Bing nor Google turns anything about it now.

Then the first visit for a long time to St. Patrick's across the road, also to be found at reference 6. A surprisingly large and handsome building, considering the relatively modest exterior. I did not like to take my own picture as there was at least one lady at her devotions. While a young man sitting in one of the aisles was taking advantage of the peace and quiet to attend to his telephone. Silently, I might say. One tramp, also silent.

Art behind Tottenham Court Road tube station. £10,000 to the sculptor, £50,000 to the architectural ironmonger for installation?

The second time that I have seen such a festive treadmill. All ladies last time around, while this one looks to be at least slightly mixed.

And so to Short's Gardens and Neal's Yard Dairy where in addition to my usual Poacher I took a piece of Gubeen. People who are also into making fancy kitchen knives. See, for example, reference 7.

From there into the Seven Dials Market, a sort of street food emporium. We could, for example, have bought some of the finest chai to be had in London. Or we could have bought some very expensive and very small pieces of cheese from a conveyor belt which had probably done time in a Sushi bar. Plenty of people sat at the belt.

But we did buy a couple of warm Ong Ong buns, I think Korean. Rather good, containing a rather strange core confected of custard and coconut, visible between brown and white above, contrasting in an interesting way in both texture and flavour with the surrounding bun, which was warm and sweet. All this being very near the piano captured at reference 5.

An establishment where I once used to buy bread and cheese for lunch - the choice being Cheddar or Camembert. None of today's nonsense with chutney, crisps, green vegetables and so on and so forth. Some things have not got better with the passage of time.

And so down to the Aldwych where we caught a bus to Waterloo. And the crowded 17:00 (or so) train to Epsom; crowded, but not to the point where we had to stand up.

PS: I had some trouble recovering the first of the snaps above as the Wigmore Hall seems to blot out concerts as soon as they happen - so their calendar shows present and future but not past. The calendar on my Microsoft calendar on my Microsoft telephone used to do the same thing, but so many people complained that I think this got changed, and one can now use a Microsoft calendar to see what one has done as well as what one is going to do. Samsung calendars do both as well, certainly the recent past. Perhaps there is something IT which makes it convenient to dump the past, a convenience the IT people have now learned to live without.

References

Reference 1: https://pumpkinstrokemarrow.blogspot.com/search?q=18.4. The remnants of the phase.

Reference 2: http://psmv3.blogspot.com/2018/01/more-haydn.html. The archive gives far too many hits to check properly, but this concert was at the top of the list.

Reference 3: https://www.fortuny.shop/.

Reference 4: https://www.fashionstudiesjournal.org/partnership-content-a/2022/4/22/mariano-and-henriette-fortuny-notes-on-co-creating-the-delphos-gown. '... The Fortuny gown which Albertine was wearing that evening seemed to me the tempting phantom of that invisible Venice...'.

Reference 5: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2023/07/piano-73.html.

Reference 6: https://www.stpatricksoho.org/.

Reference 7: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/12/impromptu-piano.html.