Airport author

I love travelling by air. More precisely, I love sitting around in airports. The flying I’m not too keen on.

I like sitting at the boarding gate inventing back-stories for everyone around me. Nothing too elaborate or fancy, just why they are going where they’re going. Maybe what they do, their marital status.

But today is different. Today I’m excited. Today we have a twin jet to take us to Bristol instead of a propellar plane!

Anyway, have to board…

A life in music

 

A life in music, originally uploaded by ardeton_quartet.

The concert was well received. The soloists for the Puccini duet were amazing. I’m always in awe of the way singers can create such an enormous sound using only their bodies…

The heart of the concert was Strauss’ autobiographical “Ein Heldenleben“- an absolute monster of a piece.

But onto the next orchestra I go, with only a short pause to reflect on how continental Jersey was. Still, it should only be a few months til I’m here again…

Dungeons with a sea view

Dungeons with a sea view, originally uploaded by ardeton_quartet.

I’m not normally a fan of museums, but this castle in Gorey was different. The castle has seen many changes over it’s 800 year history, yet still stands tall having been built into the pre-existing coastline.

You’re not herded around exhibits, but instead explore the winding staircases. There are even motion-sensors to start up exhibits, like the body pit with it’s shadows of skeletons- not for the easily scared!

Then, as a reward you get powerful binoculars to look at the houses along the French coast… Leaving the rest of the day to plan our next holiday whilst sitting on the beach…

Le violoncelle de Dury

Le violoncelle de Dury, originally uploaded by ardeton_quartet.

The fruits of my own and the lovely Sarah’s artistic sides on the beach in St. Hellier- using an idea borrowed from the LittleRedBoat.

I can’t get over the fantastic blues you get in the sea here. We’ve barely seen the inland parts of the island, instead being captivated by the sun twinkling on the gently lapping shores. Nothing was more serene than the (I feel) misappropriately titled “Devil’s Hole”. Here, the land has been worn away over time into a cave where at high-tide water spurts up through a hole in the earth. This is all well and good, but just behind it is one of the calmest, bluest bits of sea I’ve seen here, which undermines its name a little.

Other highlights of the day include Mangos in the market, French Fries and Brie in the pub, a child learning to ride a tiny pony in the massive St Aubin’s bay, and a touch of sunburn!

It’s revealing that, as with all orchestra trips, I brought along a book (John O’Farrell’s “May contain nuts” in case you’re wondering), and haven’t read a word!

Cool cellists don’t dance

Cool cellists don’t dance, originally uploaded by ardeton_quartet.

The rehearsals are going well, despite everything we musicians put in the way- late nights, pub visits etc.

An orchestra of freelancers always means new desk-partners, which has risks. Mine exhibits a pet-hate of mine- excessive movements. I’d like to put them by this cliff and see if they behave the same.

A friend of mine once wrote an article in a teen magazine, “Cool boys don’t dance”- can I suggest something similar for cellists?

In the land of Bergerac

In the land of Bergerac, originally uploaded by ardeton_quartet.

The first entry from Jersey, and as the photo shows (modelled by the lovely Sarah), all roads lead to wonderful blue sea! From the cliff at the end of that road you can sea Guernsey to the left, and the coast of France to the right.

Jersey is a curious place- not quite sure of it’s national identity. It’s been under French and British rule, but despite it’s allegiance to the UK seems more comfortable with the former.

Beside us at lunch today, two couples dined together. They took time over their meal. They carefully rejected the first bottle of wine they were served saying it was a little off-taste and asked for a second. They had meaningful conversation about meaningful things. They enjoyed their meal, but it had been an event- certainly something you rarely see in Britain, where meal times are quick and functional.

The road-signs and information are dual-language. They are too in Wales, except here it feels like they’re like it because everyone wants them to be like that. Like it contributes something, rather than a nod to the past.

Then again, maybe I just feel like that because I’ve been listening to French Radio in the hire car, and my phone welcomed me to France by mistake, but earlier I was nearly there.

The Life of a Minstrel

As a musician, there are very few people who can claim to have a ‘place of work’ in the traditional sense. We all travel for work, for gigs, for rehearsals, for masterclasses. A musician spends a lot of their time on the road, on the train, plane etc.

I’m not the world’s best traveller. I love to travel, it’s just the travelling that gets to me. I’ve travelled in America and Canada a few times and saw some fantastic places and the travelling didn’t get to me. I think it was something to do with the inbuilt entertainment Greyhound provide on their busses in the form of nutters. They’re harmless, but the bus in America (Vermont Lines were even stranger) has a truly random selection from the extremes of society. Even airports in America, and I’ve slept in a few, have something to take your mind off the process of travelling.

However, I find it hard to travel in Europe. Tomorrow we’re heading off to Jersey for a week to play in the Symphony Orchestra there. Jersey’s a lovely place, with a lot to do. However, even the short 45 minute flight fills me with dread. The people on it will all be too nice. Too normal. It makes the travelling tedious and arduous. It gives you more time to worry and get bored.

If I was a musician a few hundred years ago, this constant travelling would be my life (except minus the flying, obviously). Yet in reality very little has changed. A musician must still travel widely – there will rarely be enough work to keep you in one place.

The posts over the next few weeks will be via moblogging – excuse any problems with layout. I’ll post some of the better photos when I return, but I’ll try to keep up a mini-travelogue in the meantime – I like trying out new technology!

A Walk in the Park

 

 

 

Today, finally, it seems Spring arrived in Cardiff. This is a good thing because it means my visits to the nearby park will become more frequent. I love the park being nearby – it’s been the reason we haven’t moved house for so long.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the park in the Winter. When it’s cold and the plants are reduced to less splendid attire it can feel like wandering around my hometown of Cambridge when the tourists are away. The plants are humbled by the cold and they have an honest, almost naked quality. Living so close by in Winter makes it feel like I own a share in the park, like those little green patches of London guarded by railings only owners of surrounding houses can go into.

But now the life-cycle of the park is moving forward. In spring the park fills with expectant mothers whilst the toddlers who were ‘in utero’ last year enjoy the run of the park before the new arrivals get here.

I’ve been around the park hundreds of times now, I’ve spent long summer afternoons reading by the lake, but today I noticed something quite striking. Roath Park is a man-made park, with a man-made lake, and it’s full of symmetrical, geometric shapes. It’s rose gardens have carefully placed square beds, the boats are neatly lined in precise positions in the boathouse, the buildings have regimented posts and windows, and there’s the longest row of identical benches I’ve ever seen. It’s strange, but somehow this makes the park seem a little bit contrived.

I loved the ‘nature’ side of park, now its design seems so hard, cold and precise. I also noticed the long list of rules for the lake. My lovely, friendly park seems suddenly so foreign…

String Quartets – Disharmony & Dischord II

It was with sadness that I wrote about the departure of our violist last month, whose name I shall change to protect the innocent to ‘Garth Davis’ (not a personal favourite in case you’re wondering!).

I wrote about how the it was like losing a family member, but I am beginning to see it more as the break-up of a long-standing relationship. Like lovers, though with obvious distinctions. What changed my mind? A text out of the blue saying that the gigs the departing member of our menage a quatre had insisted he be allowed to do, he was dropping out of. Like the partner in a break-up who insists you both agree to ‘remain friends’, sadness inevitably turns sour into bitterness. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, and at least no cd collections had to be carefully dissected and seperated, but it leaves a scar on the memory of what was.

I want to stay on the high ground here. I refuse to turn bitter, and instead feel sad that one person can be vindictive to people he’s worked so close with – waiting 4 weeks to tell us was designed to cause us some stress.

Still, I enjoy the quartet, and love it’s new direction – on to the future!

Scones at the Tea-shop

Yesterday, with some time to kill between teaching and playing with the quartet at a wedding, I found myself in need of lunch. Not just any lunch, but a lunch which involved me travelling in time. Well, sort of.

Yesterday Sarah and I dined out in a tea-shop in Chepstow. It was a lovely tea-shop, as tea-shops go. In fact, it was everything I expect a tea-shop to be. Nice, solid wooden furniture, floral wallpaper, floral tableclothes, and old waitresses. The food itself was lovely – stable British grub in the form of omelettes and toasties. I was a little taken aback when I perused the drinks menu – I was a little saddened to find what I call the “Starbucks effect”, whereby everywhere feels compelled to offer lattes, mochas and all manner of coffee-related beverages.

But it wasn’t the food that amused me, but the conversation. The tea-shop was full. More precisely, it was full of people over 60. This meant loud conversations taking place around me which made me laugh out loud. Here are some snippets:

“Well, the coach leaves at 9, and they said it’ll be a modern coach…cos you need a modern coach for that kind of holiday…”

“I’m feeling a lot better. The diarrhea came back for a time yesterday…”

“Well, she said that…but I’m not sure”

And my personal favourite from the two old ladies sat on the table beside our own:

“Well, she’s been under the weather for a while…I told her not to, but she insisted on doing the beds…she’s not 100% cos she still hasn’t been able to get out of bed for a while now, but she’s getting on well”

Not 100%?!? Let me tell you, if I was unable to get out of bed due to illness I’d consider myself far from 100%. 20-percent, 30-percent at a push, possibly considering hospitalisation!

But then that’s just the problem with the young these days…
…Oh God, it’s aged me…