After deep thought, decided against cycling from Vauxhall to Smith Square, thinking that helmet and so and so forth on the tubular steel chairs of Smith Square might be a bit much on a warm evening. Thought about taking a cushion, but in the event forgot.
Struck on the train by a very black chap in the next compartment talking on his mobile phone, for all the world like someone Surrey born and bred, which he probably was, but it is unusual, at least it is unusual for me, for there to be no trace of race on the voice. Usually there are a few clues. I consoled myself with the thought that a properly trained computer would have known.
Struck, coming out of the usually shut eastern exit to Vauxhall, by the great flocks of cyclists swinging about. But well behaved, using the cycle lanes provided and mostly stopping at lights. With the result that it took me some minutes to get across the road and past the shut Royal Vauxhall Tavern. Perhaps their speciality trade - going for at least fifty years now - does not ramp up until a bit later in the evening, working in sync. with the various clubs in the vicinity.
The cake shop, once the Queen Anne, seemed to be busy although I was too far away to see busy with what, whether it was still a cake shop at 1830 on a summer evening. Most recently famous for the murder of its owner, Denise d'Courtenay, in the Domincan Republic, while on holiday. A native, I believe, of Chard in the west country. Regular Tess of the d'Urbervilles.
The authorities are still having trouble with the young trees along the Albert Embankment between Vauxhall and Westminster Bridges, trouble which must have been around for more than the twenty years I have known the route. Plenty of money for the capital expenditure of planting them, but none for the current expenditure of watering them. Evidence, perhaps, of the crudity of the fierce running costs controls operated by the Treasury. That is not so say that there is no method to their madness, but is there enough?
Quick snifter in the Marquis of Granby (once the den of choice for chaps chilling out after a hard day's graft at the next door Home Office) and onto a crowded St. John's, where the ticketing and ticket checking arrangements were refreshingly amateurish and where a wall tablet reminded me that the place had been burnt down twice. The first time being not long after first construction in the mid 18th century. Must have been plenty of both money and faith in the area to run to two rebuilds. An usher also told me that the church had switched ends at some point, with the stage now being at the west end with a large organ filling the east end. A slight snag being that the setting sun was a bit bright in the west window, luckily passing on just before the off. Careful inspection revealed that the church was nearly but not quite symmetrical about the north-south axis and was symmetrical about the east-west axis, this last being the more common symmetry of the two.
For a short while my neighbours on my left were a rather smartly turned out couple from the suburbs of Antwerp, who came to London for a couple of weeks every spring to do the culture. Concerts, museums, possibly theatres. Unfortunately, they had moved across to their proper seats before I got onto these last. Or onto the restaurant keeper opposite Hampton Court Station who bought a pizzeria in the suburbs of Antwerp - although that was a bit of a long shot, with the suburbs of Antwerp being quite extensive. See reference 5. But not before I learned that they knew all about the church in Antwerp noticed at reference 4. As it turned out, they might have been smartly turned out, but not so smart as not to whisper to each other during the proceeding. Perhaps that is OK in Antwerp.
Orchestra of around 35 again, including some of the string players sporting antique bows, plus antique flutes, oboes and trumpets, these last for the trumps. There was also a lot more percussion than I was expecting, although not more than one percussionist could handle. Engaging conductor who, from time to time, just stood back and let his orchestra get on with it.
The progamme consisted of two of Bach's orchestral suites rounded out by shorter works by French and German contemporaries - Campra, Fischer and Rameau. All rather light and jolly, and even the Bach was not very Bach like, at least not like the Bach that I am used to. Maybe the original music of the dance was showing through more than usual.
Audience enthusiastic, earning themselves a short encore, I think a Bach gavotte from one of the other suites. Perhaps the early music crowd turn out in force for this sort of thing.
Back to Vauxhall, past the security service building where, a little to my surprise, there were no armed guards to be seen, although I don't suppose they were far below the surface, as it were.
Lots of people out running, men and women, one of them sporting a black banner for the midnight runners and several sporting shirts for same. Probably the people at reference 6.
Got into a muddle with aeroplanes, having lost, among the bends of the river, the sense of where west - and so Heathrow - was. But no aeroplanes at all from the platform, where sense of direction had been restored.
PS: I had been worried that the concert would be far too long, with the web site talking of 180 minutes including interval, and I had been thinking of dipping out at half time. In the event, this turned out to be a misprint and we actually had 120 minutes, a much more sensible sort of time, certainly for me.
Reference 1: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2017/06/ultimate.html.
Reference 2: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2017/06/lourdes.html.
Reference 3: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2017/04/faust.html.
Reference 4: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2017/05/rubens.html.
Reference 5: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2016/02/royal-cabbage-patch.html.
Reference 6: http://midnightrunners.co/.
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