Entertained on the way out by a large chap on the tube between Vauxhall and Oxford Circus who appeared to be wearing a large green dressing gown, who was carrying a reasonably decorative handbag and wearing matching spectacles. Otherwise male. All of which left us rather unsure about what, if anything, was going on.
Oxford Circus was busy and Cavendish Square, on the margins of which we took our picnic, was cold. On the up side, fresh white bread (from Coughlans of Horton Retail) with my Comté cheese (from Waitrose of Henrietta Place). Is it time I had another go at white bread - given that I was not much good at it five years ago? Has my experience with brown improved my technique with white? Sadly, I rather think not.
The programme had changed colour for the New Year and the flowers were back in style, in grey pots on brown wood stands. These last were reasonably slender so I don't suppose it would take that much of a push to have them over. The primary flowers were unusually pale, streaky pink anthuriums, eight to the pot, the secondary flowers pink carnations, the whole topped up with a bit of white and rather more green.
The quartet consisted of three Germans, three brothers from the Rhineland, plus a lady from Estonia on the viola. The gents were slightly unusual in appearance and we wondered about their racial heritage. Their website says that they were brought up in the Rhineland but says nothing about the land of their birth.
In any event, they did us very well, with my only detecting what I thought was the odd wrong note. Haydn sting quartets are really a very good thing and maybe when we get too old to get ourselves to London, I will have to buy some more, the cupboard being rather bare at the moment, with just the six Op.20 quartets from the Julliards. A snip from the Oxfam shop at Tavistock.
An awkward moment when the first violinist managed to open his score at the wrong page at the start of a movement, leaving him and the second violinist waiting for each other to kick off. He recovered neatly enough, without any visible fluster. A first, in that I have wondered in the past about musicians losing their place in the music, or playing the wrong piece entirely, but it was the first time I have seen - or at least noticed - such a thing nearly happening.
Unusually for something that we go to, the hall was only about half full. Maybe it was too soon after the holiday. But we managed a fair bit of noise at the end.
PS: for once the Guardian was enthusiastic about something! Snapped for the record.
Reference 1: http://schumannquartett.de/.
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