Trying hard to look like Gary Cooper......super, duper.

Phew, what a week last week was, but as the song says, 'that was the week that was, it's over let it go'. So, last night I did in grand style at the wonderful Bridgewater Hall, in central Manchester, home of the Halle Orchestra.

Last night was one of their famous Halle Pops evenings - Puttin' on the Ritz: A tribute to Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.

To put not to fine an edge on it - I was in my element.

John Wilson conducted, fresh from his triumph at this years Promenade Concert with the music of the MGM Musicals. He continues to demonstrate his fascination for the music of the 30's and 40's.
His musical arrangements remain 100% faithful to the original RKO and MGM musical scores. It was wonderful to think that this was exactly how Fred and Ginger heard the scores they danced to.
Kim Criswell not only treated us to some wonderful singing but gave a brief and succinct historical setting of each number, certainly paying Ginger her musical dues.


Gary Williams too, was just perfect, never imitating Fred, but always with a subtle nod in his direction. The music covered thirteen films, from Flying Down to Rio right up to Funny Face.

If you ever get the chance to see this show don't hesitate. I guarantee you will dance all the way home.

Have a good week nice people.

Lest we forget

Today is Remembrance Sunday here in the UK. Of all the moving and reflective music played at this time, Dido's Lament by Purcell never fails to reach out and hold me for those brief minutes.

Lest we forget all our fallen, military and civilian.

This afternoon I will spend with my soldier son and other 'boys of the old brigade', lunching, listening, reflecting, laughing and remembering my own father, and drinking good old English beer.



When I am laid, am laid in earth, may my wrongs create
No trouble, no trouble in, in thy breast.
When I am laid, am laid in earth, may my wrongs create
No trouble, no trouble in, in thy breast.
Remember me, remember me, but ah!
Forget my fate.
Remember me, but ah!
Forget my fate.
Remember me, remember me, but ah!
Forget my fate.
Remember me, but ah!
Forget my fate.

achingly sad.....

This article is from my newspaper today......I just have the feeling that her lover is an Englishman, or why put the bottle in the English Channel? Anyone have any other thoughts?..........smiling.

A French love letter and a lock of hair have been discovered in a bottle washed up on a Cornish beach.Martin Leslie, a coastguard manager, discovered the note at Praa Sands when he was clearing debris from the shore in west Cornwall.

The bottle, which was sealed with candle wax, was dropped into the English Channel / La Manche on 28 September this year. It was written in French by an unnamed woman who poured out her feelings and understandings for her lover who had to return to his wife

The letter included references to love, death and heartache. It covered three pages of A4-sized paper and was accompanied by the lock of brown hair.

It opened with: "I'm not, and nor are you. When I am dead and that I will have lost the spark of my 20s, and I know that happens, at this point I will come back to you and you in turn will give me back your extraordinary passion for living. I am not dead. Yet."

Mr Leslie, who does not speak French, tried to translate the letter and was concerned about its content. He assumed that it was a suicidal note that he had come across and contacted Falmouth coastguard who sent a fax of it to their counterparts on the French coast.

"It was found to be a love letter. She (the writer) explained they had a good time together. She loves him but understands he has to return to his wife, and hopes she will find a man like him to live a beautiful life."

The unnamed women recalls the time she and her lover spent together, alluding to the affair in the letter:

"These magic moments are pure secret. The secret of life and pleasure without limits. In twenty years, it will still be here, the previous moments of happiness, when life will get dreary, we will be able to tap into these memories to remember what it is to live again."

Mr Leslie said he was planning to keep hold of the letter, which was left unsigned, with no contact address.

La mer
The Sea
Qu'on voit danser le long des golfes clairs
That one sees dancing along the clear gulfs
A des reflets d'argent
Has silver reflections
La mer
The Sea
Des reflets changeants
Changing reflections
Sous la pluie
Under the rain

La mer
The Sea
Au ciel d'été confond
In the summer sky merge
Ses blancs moutons
Its white sheep
Avec les anges si purs
With such pure angels
La mer bergère d'azur
The sea, shepherdess of azure
Infinie
Infinite

Voyez
See
Près des étangs
Close to the ponds
Ces grands roseaux mouillés
These large wet reeds
Voyez
See
Ces oiseaux blancs
These white birds
Et ces maisons rouillées
And these rusted houses

La mer
The Sea
Les a bercés
Has rocked them
Le long des golfes clairs
Along the clear gulfs
Et d'une chanson d'amour
And with a song of love
La mer
The Sea
A bercé mon cœur pour la vie
Has soothed my heart for life

With heigh-ho, the wind and the rain.......

The ninety minute trip down to Stratford and visit to the RSC was as ever a sheer delight. Renovation, or should I say rebuilding of the Memorial Theatre continues apace with most of the external appearance of the building pretty much as the architect intended…. one presumes. The Courtyard Theatre again provides a more than suitable venue whilst the building works continue apace.
The photos were taken during rehearsal.

Nancy Carroll as Viola and Jo Stone-Fewings as Orsino

At the risk of mixing metaphors, this production is certainly a game of two halves and to my mind this problem lies less with the acting than with the directing of Greg Doran. As with all productions by this company the acting is uniformly strong and there is no sense amongst the cast of anyone being the ‘star’. I enjoyed the air of complicity between actors and audience, generated particularly by Feste and Viola, which added to the fun without spoiling the magic.

James Fleet considers direction for his role of Sir Andrew Aguecheek

However, the first act struggles to clearly set up the plot, ship wrecked girl decides to dress as boy, countess falls in love with ‘boy’….etc, etc. The portrayal of Malvolio as a self obsessed, pompous man, truly deserving of a plot to cause his downfall, fails to come across clearly. Fine, I hear you say, a director can only work with the clay he is given, but to have major characters delivering important plot lines as they exeunt upstage, left or right is truly unforgivable.

Miltos Yerolemou brings boundless energy to the pivotal role of Feste

Richard McCabe as Sir Toby Belch rehearses a scene with Feste

The closing scenes of the first act and the entire second act truly hit their stride; the setting up of Malvolio for his down fall is truly comedic measured by any yardstick. Having said this, unfortunately for me, Richard Wilson is cursed by his deserved success as the TV character Victor Meldrew. At times it felt as if Victor was playing the part of Malvolio, so alike are the characters. Nevertheless, I was reminded that Malvolio is both a far more presumptuous and a more put-upon figure than Victor Meldrew ever was.

Richard Wilson shares a humourous moment with Miltos Yerolemou

Having had my little whinge I have to say that this is a solid production. It’s a mixture of a lot of pleasure and a bit of pain: for half the time, at least, Doran gets the balance about right. There was much to enjoy here and I did, particularly once the scattershot first half was over.

Alexandra Gilbreath receives direction from Greg Doran in her role as Olivia

and the rain it raineth every day....

I'm probably at an age when I shouldn't really wish my life away. In fact it was pointed out to me earlier this evening, by one who claims a certain affection for me, that it is an extravagence I can ill afford to indulge in....laughing!
However, I care not, because on Saturday I'm going down to Stratford to see Twelfth Night, and Richard Wilson in a role he was surely born to play - Malvolio.
Richard is best known for his much-loved role of Victor Meldrew in the TV comedy series One Foot in the Grave for which he has won many awards including the British Comedy Awards Top Television Comedy Actor Award and two BAFTAs. His is a long and distinguished career as both actor and director in theatre, film and TV.
The strong cast includes Nancy Carroll as Viola and Alexandra Gilbreath as Olivia.

Here are some clips of One Foot in the Grave, showing Richard acting with a touch of Malvolio about him even in this TV series.....I DON'T believe it!....surely the war cry of we ageing baby boomers...!
I can hardly wait.....

A touch of the Freds

This morning I picked up my 'white tie and tails' at my very favourite Savile Row tailor - Anderson & Sheppard. This company has been a leading Savile Row firm from its beginnings in 1906 and the fluid style of Per Anderson, trained by the great Frederick Scholte, was from the start the distinguishing feature of the house.
Concern with easy movement and a natural body line continues into 21st Century thanks to an unbroken transmission of skills. It is possible to visit their workrooms and see your suit in progress at 32 Old Burlington Street.

It was here in the 1930's that the carpet was famously rolled back so a certain Mr Fred Astaire could dance a little, and his tailor could make sure that the collar did not ride up or look unsightly.
The most glamorous and romantic evening wear of all, 'white tie and tails' is not only worn to the most glamorous and romantic evening parties (such as Willow's Grand Autumn Ball), but also to the most formal of evening occasions such as state banquets.
The white tie outfit consists of a black evening tailcoat, black dress trousers with a double braid down the outer seam, and a stiff-fronted shirt fastened with mother of pearl or gold studs and cufflinks.
The bow tie and waistcoat are both white pique, otherwise known as Marcella, to match the shirt front and shoes are black.

DJ at the RMA

I came across these photos, while looking for my spats and they bring back such happy memories. They also show me wearing a VERY formal dinner jacket.....spats or a gaudy bow tie worn at your peril....laughing. My youngest son Chris had the honour to attend the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst and the occasion was a Father's Dinner Night....and boy did they mean night!

These photos were taken way back in 1999....hard to believe!

By this time Chris had moved into Old College and was only 6 weeks away from the Sovereigns Parade where cadets are commissioned fully into the army. Their shoulder 'pips' indicating the lowly rank of second lieutenant are covered with cloth tape. On the stroke of midnight at the grand ball that follows, their partner to the ball is invited to remove the tapes. Parents and family are not encouraged to attend the ball...and is there any wonder....laughing.

The original design for Old College was drawn up by James Wyatt who also designed the RMA Woolwich building, but his design was adapted by John Saunders, architect to the Barrack Department of the War Office. The building was completed in 1812 by the builder Alexander Copeland for a final cost of some £350,000.

Above the Grand Entrance to Old College the pediment bears a roundel of the monogram of King George III flanked by Mars and Minerva, the gods of War and Wisdom.

Father & Son, both looking (and feeling) proud of each other

The cannon on each side of the steps include French guns captured at the Battle of Waterloo.

Me with officer cadets Chris, Steve and Tim, fellow members of Alamein Company. The rear of this photograph tells me it was taken at 3.30am...sheesh, I couldn't do that now!

The occasion involved us going straight to breakfast...at 5.30am, or so we thought. To 'blow off the cobwebs' guests were formed into ranks, marched three times around the parade ground and then into a hearty breakfast. We were assured by a very fearsome Company Sergeant Major Clarke that this was 'for your own good gentlemen'...gulp.

The custom of the Adjutant riding his horse (always a grey), up the steps at the end of the Sovereign's Parade dates from 1926 when Major (later Lieutenant General) F "Boy" Browning accomplished this feat, though there is no explanation for why he did this!

Have a great Friday all.