Hmmm

As I sit here writing this under crystal clear blue skies (again), the surreality of the travel chaos, caused by a cloud nobody can see emanating from an Icelandic volcano nobody can pronounce, continues to have profound effects on our first two productions. With singers and conductors scattered to four corners of the globe, James is as much a travel agent as he is a producer at the moment.

Tricky kick-off

It is the start of Carmen rehearsals and various individuals are dispersed Europe wide. I suspect a large Islay Malt for James will be necessary by the end of the week. I'm not even sure I won't be driving hither and thither across the continent to gather them all together.

Cloud? What cloud?

The apocalyptic predictions that a country-sized cloud of volcanic ash would blot out the sun in the UK have been thwarted by..well, the sun. It has been shining endlessly for days and at the moment it does so with a strong heat too. If the cloud that has brought silence to the skies over London IS up there, it is of a kind that can only be detected by jet engines.

Holland Park was choc full of people enjoying the sunshine and we joined them after a quick check of some work that has been going on over the weekend. Hundreds (thousands) thronged the lawns of HP today and I kicked myself for not having a team of leafleteers out there on the North Lawn. Still plenty seem to know what is going on because I heard quite a few sounding eager now that we are getting visibly ready for the season ahead. Interestingly one lady wondered aloud to her companion that we "must be starting earlier this year" and a young girl asked if "there was going to be opera again mummy?" And it is nice to see the grand "Inspire" wall getting attention from across the pathway. The good weather is always a prompt for those who have a more laissez faire attitude to ticket booking. They had better hurry up.

No standing still

The past two weeks have been productive and very hard work for Stu and Kasete, his oppo and our deputy house manager but they have done very well. They nor any of the contractors working on site probably need me prowling around scrutinising every screw, line, cut and joint but they have been tolerant (although on-the- hoof decisions tend to get made when they are needed). This whole process of change has been a cycle of solving one issue and creating another but the road might now have straightened out. Yesterday (with Kasete in the Charlie Dimmock role of doing the work and me in the Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen role of mincing about with the aesthetic eye) we spent an hour arranging olive trees in pots around the perimeters of various facilities. That is something we normally do two hours before curtain up on the first night so it has to count as progress. We also made the momentous decision to paint four of the support legs of the mezzanine so that they match the colour of the seating structure they abut. Such things, as I have oft repeated, matter! Henceforth, all is detail and I hope we don't over-egg the pudding.

James is in full-on producer mode dealing with last minute problems of casting and the flicking tail of a volcanic cloud that is slowing the arrival of Europe based singers for the start of music rehearsals on Monday. He could do without it for sure but I think sometimes he couldn't really do without it if you know what I mean? He and the company have always flourished in adversity so the bigger the problems he describes, the more sanguine I tend to get; history tells me that the success of the outcome is directly proportional to the depth of the abyss we have peered into. Is that the mark of a good outfit? I like to think so. The challenges of Pelleas, our opening production, offer the most tantalising results, for example. And with that in mind we sit down soon to finalise the 2012 season.

Back in to it

The visit to Eastbourne was ended with a long (very long) steeply undulating walk along the cliffs from Beachy Head to the old listed lighthouse that had once been jacked up hydraulically and moved fifty feet inland to avoid the advancing cliff erosion. Beachy Head is possibly one of the most strangely poignant places I have been. If the signs for the Samaritans in the car park were not enough to remind you of why some people are drawn to the place, the first person we saw up there was a woman with a high visibility jacket with "Chaplain" written across the back of it. It is also a breathtakingly beautiful place and frighteningly exposed with small wooden crosses and flowers dotted along the craggy, crumbling and unprotected cliff edge. I shall not rush to return. Odd that one of the most glorious spots in the UK (one that on a bright day can uplift and invigorate) should become both a beacon and a shrine to the sad and lost because what makes it inherently beautiful offers certain oblivion should you wish it.