Young lady on the train with the sequins style of sparkling makeup down both sides of her face. The sort of thing first noticed at reference 1, a little more than a month ago. Perhaps it is the latest thing.
To take my attention from her face, I wondered what sort of a sin I had committed in the scheme of such things, by buying my train ticket from the machine, claiming the senior rail card discount when I had not actually got the thing with me, as is clearly required by the rules, but something which is only very rarely checked. On the other hand, as I usually do, I had bought a one day Travelcard when a simple return to London terminals would have done. Travelcard on the grounds that if I did decide to go on the tube at some point in the day, it was a pain these days not to have bought a ticket in advance. Another rare eventuality, so this might be considered as a donation to TFL. If I had been challenged, I would probably have said that I had bought the ticket at the machine before I realised that I had forgotten to bring my card with me and thought it too complicated to sort all this out at the window. Which would have been an untruth, but which would probably have served. Three Hail Marys and an admonition to have something more interesting to confess next time?
Wrong sided by one of those blue vans from Pimlico Plumbers on the Waterloo roundabout.
Mild infraction of the rules regarding traffic lights, as much a misunderstanding as an infraction. But I associated to the far-off days when we thought it fun, when a first year undergraduate, not to pay to attend screenings put on the film society, preferring instead to have long conversations with the steward about mislaid tickets.
Having taken a sandwich at home, there no call to visit the bacon sandwich department in Whitecross Street, quite possibly open on a Sunday, and so straight to Milton Court which was sold out, although quiet at that point as I was a little early. As it turned out there were quite a few empty seats, so people must have block booked the whole weekend, then did pic n'mix on the day.
Seat E13 perfect, right in the middle, just the right distance from the action. Fairly serious French couple in front of me, otherwise surrounded by a quite democratic collection. Not the sort of people whom one would expect to see at the Wigmore Hall at all. Perhaps Bach weekends attract a special sort of customer.
Queyras was very good. Played from memory, mostly gazing vaguely at the ceiling, ear to his strings. Slightly aware of his breathing, aware enough to think that playing music is a fairly athletic business, at least for the upper body, and musicians probably have to work at their breathing. He had nice stage manners, including an encore in the form of the prelude to the fourth suite, a birthday present for his father, for whom it was a favourite.
I left wondering about whether the sound from a cello comes mainly from the strings or mainly from the holes. Clearly something to be chased up on day when I am feeling bored.
On arrival at Waterloo, redlighted my Bullingdon for gears which were about to slip and the absence of a bell. Just missed a train, which gave me a chance to take a beverage at the Cabin upstairs and to have another go at the train indicator intended for use by platform staff, hung off the rails at the end of the platform. Despite there being moving trains to provide clues, I did not get very far with working it out. See reference 2.
Scored a one from the train at Raynes Park. The aeroplane seemed very big, so it would have been very low over Earlsfield had I been there. Proof, should it be needed, that I should have taken refreshment at the Half Way House, rather than the Cabin.
Sadly, back home, Bachtrack is not throwing up any more suites in this country in the immediate future. Seems a bit extreme to go to Europe for the purpose. Valletta Baroque Festival in January?
PS: 17 minutes 42 seconds out, 17 minutes 7 seconds return. More or less got the hang of the tricky lights around Blackfriars Bridge now. But not yet got the hang of cycling in two-way cycle tracks, maybe six feet wide; still not being keen on having bright young things in lycra rushing towards me at high speed.
Reference 1: http://psmv3.blogspot.com/2018/05/persian-grub.html.
Reference 2: http://psmv3.blogspot.com/2017/09/spot-difference.html.
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