Blood's a Pumpin'

Disclaimer: I haven't realized how long it's been since my last post. Please forgive me, but as you read on you will see that my mind has not necessarily been around a computer recently.



I just returned home from lunch with Karl at The East India Club, a members-only gentlemen's club in St. James' Square. So many Victorian novels and stories suddenly breathed into life as I found myself not in Pall Mall, but the equally renowned St. James' Square. My elitist blood is pumping after lunching in the building shown above. I'm sure you don't have any difficulty in understanding why. Peeked into the window of the men-only smoking room and the beautiful library (both full of leather armchairs, but, as it was midday, decidedly few leather men).

I'm making a phone call to the airline/site through which I booked my flights to see if I can extend my stay by 2ish weeks tonight. Most likely will be returning as planned, but one can always hope. I cannot hear out of my left ear and currently feel that spending 8 hours in a pressurized environment wouldn't be all that good of an idea at this point. I'm off balance and feel like I have a fish tank in the left side of my head.

What have I been up to since I last updated, aside from being sick. Where to begin? What- you didn't think a nasty bout of illnesses would pin me down, did you?

Trying to remember back... On the 3rd, a Saturday, I saw Salome at the Royal Opera. I think it's required of my immune system to be shot when I go to the opera. My seat was 2 from the wall, stage right, as high as I could possibly get. In short, it was difficult to see anything that wasn't happening within 15 feet of the front of the stage (unless I rested my chin on the ledge in front of me).

Breakfast with Jonathan the next morning (Sunday) in St. Christopher's Place. We had intending on going elsewhere, but everything in the entire area was closed. Lovely. I figured out that morning that Bond Street is incredibly long. Spent the rest of the day wandering around all of the extravagantly elegant men's tailors and sellers of accessories in Savile Row and Jermyn Street as well as other pretty bits of Picadilly/St. James'. I told myself I needed to go back. Funny I should end up there today...

Monday...don't remember.

Tuesday- bedridden all day until I joined the hashers for post-run socializing near Baker Street.

Wednesday found me on a train to/in Tonbridge for a massage by Alain, an occasional LSO extra violin. Our hellos had been cut short, so we finally had a chance to chat over tea and an attempt to assist me along the road to recovery.

Thursday- City of London Festival concert at St. Paul's Cathedral (sold out). You may remember my recount of last summer's performance of Bruckner 9 by the LSO. This summer was a very powerful Beethoven 9 with John Eliot Gardiner. Seat was a the foot of the stage-right steps, so I was given some surprised faces as the players were taking their places. Actually, they were probably thinking, "Why are you still here?"

I had every intention of spending Friday in recovery mode. I was mistaken. Phone call from Ivor in the AM asking if I could turn pages for the evening's NLS concert- Rossini's Petite Messe Solennelle. Of course, I said yes- and volunteered myself for the rehearsal, as well. At the interval of the performance, I sprinted to Pret for some fruit before what I'm sure would have been my first fainting spell. The stage light was shining directly at me, and I had no hair tie. That, accompanied with nerves and illness made for a shaky Ashley. Food was my saviour.

Saturday was Emily and Lucia's joint birthday party at Ivor's. Emily and Lucia are sisters I have known since last summer. We are all in both the choir and the running club together. Ivor's, of course, the choir conductor. His flat was beautiful...check out some photos of the garden on my facebook page. Adam and I departed at 3 AM. I heard of some hearty souls who remained until 6. By time we had left, we had stolen the dancefloor. A benefit, perhaps, of a duo of professional-training (since he was 4) and close-enough-to-professionally-training gave us plenty of reason to strut our stuff together.

Sunday- slept late, watched the British Grand Prix in the afternoon and the World Cup final in the evening.

Yesterday- watched 3 episodes of Top Gear, 1 of QI, baked cookies, ended up spending some time with Lex and Princess, met up with Adam to assist in the devouring of some leftovers.

Today has already been described, but I would once again like to remind you that I ate here today, and you didn't:

Soz.

Sorry for the lack of writing, everyone. I believe my excuses are justifiable. Last week the worst case of allergies/hayfever/cold I've yet had. Not entirely sure what it was. Although I did still accomplish things, I really couldn't concentrate to write anything. Now, after singing Handel's Israel in Egypt through from start to finish 5 times (plus some rehearsing) in 3 days, my voice has painfully ripped itself to shreds and opening the door to exhaustion.

In my last post, I mentioned two American girls, Morgan and Sarah. I spent Monday showing them around after an orchestra rehearsal. We started by taking the tube to the Tower so they could take pictures of the bridge and the tower itself. Morgan wanted to see Somerset House, so we got off and Temple tube. From SH, we walked to Trafalgar Square and did a super-quick walk through the National Gallery. I showed them my 2 favorite rooms as well as the Impressionist rooms. From there we walked to Buckingham Palace. Morgan was brave enough to carry out a suggestion I was given a while ago from Gerry (Rader). He had run into a former B'ham Palace guard, who told him a sentence that would supposedly allow entry into the palace. Morgan tried on the friendly cop standing at an important-looking entrance. He was confused, so he asked the 3 other friendly cops who were standing nearby. One had heard of it, but had never been asked. They all determined it must either be for a different palace or applied decades ago and had since been abandoned. Sigh. Still, we took a picture with the cops so as to record our attempts.

I spent Tuesday morning in Spa Fields behind my flat reading Pygmalion (for you uncultured lot, My Fair Lady was based upon this play). I commandeered a bench at 7 AM and read for the next couple of hours until I finished. For some reason, I left inspired to do some art, so I went home and drew Karl's requested headshot, of which I'm quite proud. Spent the evening with Adam, who was just entering the heat of his heavy week of work.

Despite hayfever (or whatever it was) that had just kicked into full swing over the course of the next afternoon, I still went to see The Marriage of Figaro at the Royal Opera House (Wednesday). My good intentions only survived the first half- my ticket was a standing seat at the back of the top balcony, i.e. not worth the exertion as the opera started at 7 and wasn't set to finish until past 10. So, at the 30-minute-long interval, I decided to nip into the chemist (pharmacy) behind the ROH for some sort of medication then walk home. Halfway home, I got a text message from Martin, one of the bassoonists in the ROH orchestra, asking how I was enjoying the show and inviting me to the pub afterwards. Feeling guilty, I hightailed it back to the hall...just in time for the show to have started 2 minutes before my arrival.

You may think I dejectedly (yet thankfully) returned home at this point, but you would be wrong! One of the workers in the lobby said, "You can't get to your seat, but we have an empty box, if that's ok." If that's OK?! Um, I can't complain about a private box upgrade from an £8 standing seat. [other worker], go ahead and take her up."

For the first 5 minutes or so, seated one box up and back from the stage, I attempted to figure out who was who onstage since faces were all blurs from the nosebleed section. My body then decided that it would rather sleep. 20 minutes later, I awoke in the middle of a plot twist. Opera finished (btw it was good), found my way to the pub, and enjoyed chatting with various musicians from the ROH, English National Opera, and a regular player (i.e. over 4000 of over 6000 performances) in Phantom of the Opera over the last 23 years.

Hmm... What did I do on Thursday? Ah, yes. I spent the entire day laying in bed attempting to recover. I watched 3 Top Gear specials and drank a lot of chocolate milk. Yes, I realize the latter wasn't the best for recovery, but it tasted maaahvelous.

Friday afternoon was installment 4 of payment for my drawing for Sean. This means we went for burritos at Chipotle on Charing Cross Rd. His was on the house as he'd been in every day for the last week and half. He's admitted that he has a problem.

Friday evening was reason to celebrate, as Adam had survived his busy work week. Champagne and a delicious/elegant dinner sufficed.

Saturday- wandered around some strange little town as Adam's car was serviced, then returned home for some more rest.

Sunday- LSO open rehearsal, horrific England/Germany World Cup game, and Haydn's The Seasons with Sir Colin. I was glad I decided to leave my flat relatively early, as the concert started at 7, not the usual 7:30. I picked up my ticket 2 minutes before showtime.

Monday- listened to flatemates' tales from Glastonbury Festival, then we all trekked up to Hampstead Heath to revel in yet another day of sunshine. From there, bus to choir rehearsal. I happened to look down as we were stopped. Ivor, our conductor, was sitting in his car with the top down right in front of us! I sprinted downstairs (from the top of the double-decker), and jumped into the back.

Tuesday- rehearsal at Cadogan Hall with orchestra and chorus. Approximately 200 people on stage, if not more. Right before the break, Ivor said, from the podium, "Ashley?" Of course I assumed he was just going to have me go sit in the hall to listen for balance or something. No. He had me come up to the podium and conduct the movement we'd just done. I am pleased to say I shook far less than last time, despite my knowing that the bass player in the orchestra in front of me is a member of the LSO!!!! Concert that night was amazing.

Wednesday- trumpet lesson with Gerry at the Barbican. 30 minutes of Halsey Stevens. Ran to Cadogan Hall from there. Rehearsal from 3. I was assigned to sit right next to the soloists, i.e. very near the audience, which apparently encouraged me to be a bit too enthusiastic.

I'm now, as I've mentioned previously, completely fatigued and shredded to bits. Spending the rest of the day resting before returning to the Barbican for the final concert of the season (the one at St. Paul's next week is actually part of the City of London Festival). One of my friends in the 2nd violins is retiring after this concert, so they're having drinks for him, and he invited me to join in the festivities! But until then- rest. Lots of rest. Alas, I only have about 2 hours...