Onwards

I apologise for the belated entry. It's over a week since I last posted anything and I am aware that people hang on my every word. Well, at least three people anyway.

It has been a good week but I am acutely aware of how this new theatre has precipitated much debate about how we do things as a company and is proving to be a real catalyst for change. Change can be unsettling and we are constantly examining and re-examining decisions we make, however exciting and obviously beneficial they appear to be.

James has had a great week for casting, finishing major roles after they appeared to have gone askew. Two fabulous singers from Eastern Europe are on board – a Russian and a Bulgarian – and that means the boards are full. Fantastic. Now it’s onto auditions for Flute in 2008 and just from the audition process that Simon Callow is inculcating, we can tell that the production will be far from ordinary.

Sample seats for the new theatre arrived yesterday and a procession of backsides were pressed into action (ooer) in the testing process. Overall space in the theatre, capacity and comfort are not always happy bedfellows but we think we have found the optimum point for both. The legroom seems cavernous but those of greater height than myself consider it “adequate”. If only we could tailor-make seating for the individual eh? The main thing though is that nobody will have their knees in the back of the seat in front of them and those of shoulder-widths greater than that of a cricket bat will feel less like a sardine. I am very happy.

We have been asked to participate in a television debate about opera. The whole thing has something to do with a series of programmes where the promoter Harvey Goldsmith lends his experience and talents to various entertainment acts and of course, he helped a small opera company. After each programme goes to air, they have a debate. This one seeks to “address the relevance of opera”. I am frequently amazed at how the media continue to peddle the myth that opera is a rarefied art-from and then proceed to ensure it stays that way by constantly asking the bloody question. I might agree to take part if only to growl at someone.

Speaking too soon

With the final comment of my last posting I tempted Fate. Fate couldn't resist and a big shiny bug entered the procurement process today. Actually, it's not that big, but it means more paperwork for sure and a round of meetings I could do without. This theatre had better be bloody beautiful.

The arrival of February means a few more hairs stand on end. Only two and a half months will have to elapse before the theatre build begins (shiver) but all seems to be on course production-wise and minds will begin to turn towards 2008. If that doesn’t sound especially impressive, one need only think of how we used to programme the seasons when it could be only 6 months before a show opened that we learned what the show would actually be.

Remarkably, someone did contact me regarding Clive James. And then I learn from the BBC website that he is about to begin presenting a new show on Radio 4. The man, having been out of the TV and radio spotlight since 2001, has his mug all over the place. Either my timing is impeccable, or it’s rubbish. I have yet to determine which.

BTW - it’s official. Clarinda cannot make coffee.

Clive James, where are you?

OK, it is time for the bloggersphere, biosblog or whatever it is to perform a useful purpose for me.

I want to speak to Clive James. I want him to do a podcast with us. Mr James is an opera fan of immense passion, is possibly the funniest writer known to man (NEVER read a Clave James book in public) and frankly, I think he’d be a brilliant podcast guest. You may wonder why I don’t write to his agent? Well, I have. You may ask why I haven’t tried to contact his website? I have. You see, after a while, one starts to feel like a stalker as opposed to a serious opera manager who wants to offer Mr James a way (probably unwanted) of spending a couple of entertaining hours. The irony is that at one time, I was in touch with him. He even said he would write a programme note for me. I’ll set aside the suspicion that he probably thought I was a stalker then too. So coupled with his formative history in Holland Park (read his books) and his love of opera, combined with our past correspondence, he couldn’t possibly refuse. So that’s it. I want to go mano a mano with the Green Flash from Kogorah. So anyone who might possibly read this and who has the man’s ear – get in touch. press@operahollandpark.com should do it. Mr James is already a legend. I offer him immortality. You know it makes sense, even if he doesn’t.

I dare not say the words “the theatre procurement is almost finished”. So I won’t.

Four months and counting

Well, that's the second extra L'amore dei tre Re lecture sold out. Amazing really. If you want to know what is shaking everyone's tree you can read something about the opera here http://www.rbkc.gov.uk/ohpseason/features/lamore_dei_tre_re.asp.

January is at an end and Christmas was only five minutes ago. That means we open in about twenty minutes time. And I have been seeing crocuses. We never get to enjoy spring because it's nature's equivalent of the tune that accompanies the Countdown clock. And the clock is ticking. It's a terrible thing to be trying to hold off time. It is inexorable and just pushes past you with shrug. But we are on schedule, with Friends' Preview brochures going out this weekend and that means ticket bookings in their thousands landing on the box office door mat - it's head down and plough on for Cecilia from hereon in.

I had something of a surreal meeting with councillors yesterday. Actually, I was sitting in on the surreal section of a meeting before I presented a couple of papers of my own. They were discussing the annual review of prices and in our business group including sports facilities, waste management, leisure services, parks and cemeteries, there are hundreds of different fees and charges. Of particular interest yesterday was the section of the report dealing with cemeteries. A fulsome debate on grave sizes, ashes burial (I’m not talking about the cricket), exhumation, paupers graves and gravediggers’ salaries ensued. It was fascinating - if not a little macabre - to those of us whose daily life rarely takes in the detail of graveyard soil conditions and grave depths. But you know, it has to be done. Indeed, it did remind me that ultimately, the council has some very important things to deal with. Naturally, some wag referred to the body count in opera.

I haven’t yet advised our thousands of patrons of the existence of this blog but I know some people are reading and vanity is definitely kicking in because I am starting to thinking about how many. Insane really because I am already anxiously re-reading my text to ensure I don’t upset anybody and the arrival at these pages of hundreds more patrons, colleagues and peers would only heighten the anxiety. Blogs continue to get a bad press too; I read of Jodie Marsh’s blog yesterday in which she dumps various boyfriends unceremoniously. And Paul Daniels even fulfils his Blogger obligations whilst on holiday in Barbados. Errr..

Winter

Awoke to a couple of inches of snow. I found it hard not to take it personally. It's like we are sending out the first big batch of booking forms for the summer with a cheeky, fluffy white chuckle attached. Yesterday, someone told me that long-range weather forecasters were predicting our hottest summer ever.