A royal night out

Another visit to the GP surgery yesterday morning for a blood pressure check. As usual, the readings there were high, in contrast to readings taken at home which average out at the desired 'normal'. I make a point of taking my home readings chart with me, to add to their record. It's all a bit strange really, but at least I'm no showing signs of contracting an infection. The wound varies from day to day and so does its impact on general well being, whatever the logging of vital signs reveals. If this operation does happen next Thursday, it will be interesting to see what impact this has on vital signs, once recovery is under way.

Clare's cousin John arrived by coach from Halifax mid-afternoon, to spend the weekend with us. We haven't seen him since we went up to Northowram for his wife Dorothy's memorial service a year ago, so there was a lot for us to catch up on for the rest of the day. 

The weather wasn't kind enough to encourage a walk this morning, but we drove down to the Bay after lunch to show John around before going to the premiere of a new production of Verdi's opera 'Un Ballo in Maschera' at the Millennium Centre. Prince Charles attended. He's the WNO's royal patron; also the Mayor and other civic dignitaries, with no ceremony, but with unusually punctual start. We arrived to discreet security checks, previously notified by letter, and were required to take our seats fifteen minutes curtain up. The performance didn't finish until ten thirty, and sitting for the best part of three hours apart from the interval was a uncomfortable and tiring, but it was rewarding nevertheless..

I think it's the first time we've seen this opera. As ever with WNO, the solo and choral singing was superb and choreography was executed with style and a certain humour. The music is unfamiliar, in the sense of having few well known popular arias, but it's beautifully rich. The production, however, was quirky and confusing. The opening scene, wasn't set in the heroic nobleman's audience throne room, but around a coffin, from which he then emerges to preside. This coffin reappears in the final scene after his murder is staged, but he's not shown lying dead in it, but walking around and singing on-stage. A few moments earlier we saw his stabbing, or did someone else take the hit for him? This was unexplained. Or was it meant to be his masked alter ego killed off? Or was it his spectre singing about the legacy of regret and pardon in the wake of the avenged amorous encounter with his best friend's wife? I thought this was muddled, especially as the programme's plot synopsis referred to his dying words uttered on the ballroom floor. Altogether too clever, I'm afraid, adding nothing to the evocation of tragedy.

Some other plots of Verdi operas, like Rigoletto and Forza del Destino, as well as this one, feature an element of doom brought on by a curse or a moment of clairvoyance. Does this reflect the dark side of the nineteenth century society he was part of? Or was Verdi looking back to how things used to be in generations before him? There's a thread of inescapable tragedy which isn't exactly cheerful or inspiring. Despite the beauty of his operatic music, they deliver an overdose of melancholy, which I'd rather do without at the moment.