The Whole Heart

Freezing. Absolutely perishing, but dry and bright which will do. The cold is being held at bay by my macchiato and the beautiful interlude from Francesca da Rimini 'Per la Terra Di Maggio'. Lithe and dreamy, its solo cello and angelic chorus are enough to warm the heart. My ears are kept warm by enormous headphones which, whilst delivering an unrivalled audio experience (for me and anybody within twelve yards) make my head look like a croquet mallet if I'm in silhouette. One must suffer for one's art but not so much that I don't wear a hood to hide the equipment.

Zandonai's opera really is, like L'amore dei tre Re, an exciting prospect. Infused with music that you are frequently left open mouthed by there is a palpable sense that we have a real treat in store for audiences. The company puts their whole heart into such jewels although that is no guarantee of course; I read somewhere that even when working with the whole heart you are bound to suffer failures from time to time and often the whole heart is the reason.. But it is a good starting point. Right now, the whole heart has to get me over Kilimanjaro on a bike so I'll bid you farewell - a domani.

Long and winding road

The journey begins tomorrow. You'd suppose by now that after so many years it would be a doddle but there is always that same feeling of trepidation: so many unknowns lurk in the distance. Of course I don't wish to sound anything but positive - the mysteries of the few months to come make them worth waiting for. The prospect of six first nights (well seven including Mr Fox) have their own appeal as months of work and passionate endeavour by so many people come to fruition and judgment is passed by our audiences: its a strange relationship that one and deserves further rumination, but not now.

My eldest daughter has returned from France where she has been attending a conference on global warming. Our own efforts in this regard are growing as are the expectations on us to do so. As a venue we are not, as you might expect, the worse polluters, but some mighty claims as to how we can improve are frequently put to us by Kate, our office Green Champion. I will ensure that I walk to work in the morning.

A coiled spring

The third crisp blue sky of the week greets us this morning. Spring hasn't sprung but it is ready to leap forth. The BBC weatherman was beside himself as he breathlessly predicted a 'really balmy day with highs of - just look at that! - NINE degrees celsius'. Small mercies but mercies nevertheless as the trucks carrying our roof are readying themselves for the journey to London. The delivery of the steel and cables and the preparatory work of the next week pre-empt the lifting of the spectacular structure by the end of this month.

The spotlight falls onto the 2011 season today, quickly followed by the 2012 plans. The Bonynge Gala is also very much to the fore today as well and, believe it or not a big Christmas event is taking spectacular shape too.

Fiora is still less than 100 percent and had us awake at half five this morning; by the time she had to go to nursery she was ready for bed again and so were we. Thankfully the emetic flourishes of the weekend look to have been a one-off and the carpets are recovering well.

The OHP WI

The mundane nature of my day ahead (washing machine delivery etc) is offset by the evening we had last night for our Ambassadors, a group of 100 committed and generous Friends. It took place in a beautiful house in Kensington that was once owned by Stanford the composer, an apt venue since many great figures from operatic history including Tchaikovsky and Wagner had visited him there. Indeed, Wagner was very much to the fore by the end of the evening as several Ambassadors, in what can only be described as a pincer movement, cornered James and I and made a bid for Wagnerian glory. Now Wagner is, I suppose a natural progression for a company that has been tearing through the giovane scuola and the 'Children of Tristan' but it is still one hell of a leap. Nevertheless our Wagnerian Ambassadors were encouraged to hear that we have indeed been thinking about introducing him to our stage in the years ahead and thus, right there, in the room in which the great man himself had once stood, was born the OHP WI (Wagner Initiative). We left them arguing amongst themselves about who should be chairman. My money is on a chap called Martin - he's a lawyer with some significant scalps in his pocket and I don't fancy their chances.
With a thoroughly pleasant evening ended, James and I retired to the pub for a nightcap where we wondered at how we had ever come to be at the heart of such a wondrous enterprise - more specifically I suppose we continue to wonder how we were ever allowed to be! I doubt either of us are in line for the top job at Bayreuth should it ever become vacant.

Exams

My coffee stop is made brief by the need to get to Great Scotland Yard (an evocative place name if ever there was one). Unfortunately the destination sounds more interesting than is my reason for going there; I am to do a course in order to become a Personal License Holder (which means as the manager of OHP I will be allowed to sell booze). I even have to sit an exam at the end of the day which given my historically profound aversion to them will be something of a landmark. Let's hope that our patrons appreciate my sacrifice and take lavish advantage of our new bar menu.

Mr Fox is off to a flyer with great interest from the Royal Borough's summer play team. What an amazing responsibility they have; keeping a couple of hundred kids occupied during the summer holidays. They must all be touched by genius or madness (or both, as is commonly the case).

The sun continues to tempt us into optimism and the crocuses were showing themselves profusely in the park yesterday. Is it all just another Conchis 'masque' ?