MORE WIGMORE!

To London’s stunning Wigmore Hall on Wigmore Street.

   Hard to keep your eye on the stage unless.....


I must admit that it has been over a year since I was last there, but I was taken this time by a singer friend of mine who said that I simply must come along with her to see what she called a “revelatory pianist”.

                                                         ...Katya's tickling the ivories!

From the moment Katya Apekisheva played the opening flourish of Schubert’s Sonata in A minor D537 I knew what she meant. Magical more like it!

This is an extremely intricate piece to play, seemingly all over the place, but Katya had the measure of things and drove it along with a passion I have seldom seen in any pianist. I could have sworn I heard the man next to me gasp at her command of the fortissimi.

Next she played Schumann’s Kinderszenen.  The Wigmore has a massive Steinway there on stage and Katya wasn’t afraid of it at all. She knew how to tame it! What a gal!

This was a sensational concert, and I'm ashamed to say that I hadn’t heard of her before. Her superb command of the keyboard will, I’m certain, ensure that she will be unknown no more!  Brava!

BREAKFAST OF CAMPIONI (with apologies to Kurt Vonnegut, Jr)

On my ever expanding quest to better myself as a showoff cook, I attended the Caldesi Cookery School in London's Marylebone Lane. The evening was arranged once again (see posting passim) by the Italian Cultural Institute's (ICI) Anna Mondavi and hosted by "Lady Chef", Rita Monastero. Accompanying me once again was the Luscious Laura who was unafraid to get her hands dirty.  Among items on the agenda were tortelloni with ricotta and spinach and an extremely rich chocolate and candieds fruits and almond cake. All made from scratch!

Those of us who knew how, made our own egg pasta (again) and then we were shown the mystic art of how to make the little filled pasta shapes.

Laura stirs, while I stir it up...

Throughout the evening we were warrmed inside (while it was chucking it down outside) with a oenologist (look it up) called Angela who is actually a real MW (Master of Wine). And her banter about grape varieties and origins went on throughout the evening.

                                                      Angela shows us her teeth polished by Pinot Grigio!

We got to taste wines from all over Italy (courtesy of the ICI's extensive regional wine cellar) and all I can tell you is that I had the mother of hangovers the following morning.


Later the following day, I met up with Rita and her husband, Enrico to take a walk through Soho and Marylebone High Street and we had a delicious lunch at Cafe Coco Momo. Enrico tried, and pronounced highly enjoyable, a "full English" breakfast (at 2pm!).

Coco Momo in Marylebone serves up a Full English all day long, especially for Italians!

We exchanged gifts and vowed to see each other again in the new year.
Salute!

SPITALFIELDS MARKET

This has to be my favourite London market!

It has an enormously rich and varied history dating back to the 300’s when it was originally the site of a Roman cemetery.

 
In 1197 ‘The priory of St. Mary of the Spittle’, a medieval hospital, was founded: the first part of the name ‘Spitalfields’ derives from the word ‘hospital’, which to the medieval mind was understood as ‘hospitality’, a place of rest as well as medicine.

A big leap forward now to when Jewish families first began settling in Spitalfields in the seventeenth century. In the 1880s, anti-semitic pogroms in Russia and Eastern Europe triggered a major Jewish exodus, and thousands joined the existing communities in Spitalfields and Whitechapel.

Representing these districts was the Liberal MP Samuel Montagu, a well-liked philanthropist, leading banker, keen fly fisherman and devout Orthodox Jew. He was dedicated to the welfare of his new constituents, lobbying for their humane treatment and founding a number of shelters and working men's clubs specifically for their use.

He was chairman of the Spitalfields Benevolent Society, which was formed to help the area’s poorer inhabitants, and he founded the Federation of Synagogues. In 1907, Montagu was raised to the peerage and became the first recipient of the title Baron Swaythling.

The Jewish community thrived in Spitalfields for several decades before gradually moving towards the suburbs, a trend eventually accelerated by the heavy bombing of the East End during the Second World War.

I have been visiting the market for nigh on twenty years, and today, having been, until 1991 a fruit and veg market (that’s now moved to a purpose-built site in Leyton, east London), the market has been thoroughly renovated, a new roof (thank goodness they’ve fixed that. The times I've spent browsing and got wet from the leaks when it was raining outside and having to walk through puddles). It’s been expanded all the way through to Liverpool Street now with new shops and craft outlets with, of course, plenty of places to meet all eating requirements! Accents seem to be on Oriental street food.

                                           I'm a huge fan of Harris Tweed!

                                           Memo to Bart Simpson: Yes, you can have a cow!

                               Mark sells some special vinyl and other memorablia each week. Be sure to check his stand out!

 Just opened after a complete gutting and refit is the Ten Bells pub. This place is noted (if that’s the right word) for having been associated with Jack The Ripper.  Now run as a rather super new restaurant run by the self-styled Young Turks, we had a scrumptious dinner there. I thought that the standard mark-up of £10.00 whatever wine you purchased was a particularly appealing feature.

This is what the place looked like before the YT's took it over!

It's ahad a splash of paint on teh outside and the new interior is a whole new cosy thing with absolutely no matching furniture. Look out for the neon sign mysteriously imploring "Keep Me Safe".

More soon. Probably...

IN THE MEANTIME ( QUITE LITERALLY!)

Hello my little stars!

To Greenwich and the Astronomers Ball at the Royal Greenwich Observatory in southeast London.  And what an unusual and remarkably interesting evening it was!  In truth, I had never visited this august loication previously, so I had no idea what to expect, but was very pleasantly surprised at what I did experience.

On arrival, you can get to see and touch, what is claimed to be the oldest object on the planet. A rather large and hideously deformed metallic meteorite.

                                          Rock of ages, and ages, and ages.....

The event, hosted by my friends at the Polish Cultural institute and Secret Garden, was spread over the entire property with “pop-up” modules. One such event was a secret tour of the giant telescope (still the seventh largest in the world even after 150 years!), hosted, in costume by a suitably attired Mittel European girl, with her accomplice (foreground) who, becuase I happened upon the tour a little late, refused to tell me who she was and just glared!.

       Pay attention at the back and stop taking pictures...                                       

A "workshop" presented by two "starlets" in silver space suits explained to us the history of astronuats' food, and even took the trouble to ensure that we experienced first hand such marvelsd of culinary science with a pieceof dehydrated carrot and a tube of what looked like brown toothpaste - but could have been either beef extract or chocolate. I didn't try it!

                                          What's for lunch?......
The problem with eating biscuits in zero gravity was a problem because of crumbs that could get in the way of important equipment. This problem (we were told) was solved by coating the biscuit in jelly!

                                           ...and dessert?

Another, and startlingly effective coup-de théatre was played by an actor and actress in Dutch attire of the 15th Century explaining their fear of the Church, but keen to impart their astronomical knowledge, then, somewhat spookily distracted by my camera!

Elsewhere, an intergalactic travel bureau had been set up where you could book a trip into space and visit all the sights of the planets.  The two girls I filmed were about to be charged 33 million Pounds (about $50 million). Sounded like a bargain to me, but they remained to be convinced!


Many chose to dress up for the evening.

                                             Menage-A-trois at my planet or yours?
The Museum’s shop remained open throughout the event, where one could purchase a very good value (I thought) high powered “beginner’s” telescope for a mere £150.00.

At the end of the hill beside the observatory is the wonderful, romantic and highly  spectacular view across the river to Canary Wharf and its environs.

Time, for me, stood still…..

SPACE PARTY AT THE INSTITUT FRANCAIS

GALS FROM OUTA SPACE!

                                      L'Institut - c'est formidable!

In Douglas Adams’ Hitch Hiker’s Guide To The Galaxy, they serve a drink at the Restaurant At The End Of The Universe called a “Pan Galactic Gargle-Blaster”. This exotically named cocktail came to mind last night when I attended the crazy Space Party at the beautiful Art Nouveau Institut Français in South Kensington and downed a couple of the barman's creations. As part of the Passion et Bande Dessin (that’s French for comic book) weekend, the party – which was preceded by a screening of Roger Vadim’s Barbarella – it was a little bit of Paris in Londres. 

                                                    Is this how you want me to hold it?

My record company, Harkit Records, were, along with Absolut Vodka, joint sponsors of the party.

We had just re-released the soundtrack to the aforementioned film, and it was on sale at the Institut.  At the time of the film’s initial release in 1968 at Paramount’s flagship cinema in London, the Plaza (now sadly, the way of all buildings in the UK – a Tesco supermarket), it flopped miserably. After 5 days, they shoved in Lyndsey Anderson’s “If....” which, in case you didn't know, went on to win the “Palme D’Or” at Cannes the following year.

                                          "If..." made Malcolm McDowell

In the intervening period, Barbarella has gone on to become what is known as a “Cult Classic”. God! How I hate that term, but it does serve a purpose I suppose. Watching it last night with many who had not seen in before, it looked arch and dated, with just a little too much sadism for its own good.

I had hot-footed it from synagogue in the west end following the termination of the Yom Kippur holiday, where I partook of a splendid dinner at the Institut’s terrific bistro where I got to chat with some of the gamer girls, including the organiser Natacha, who had dressed up for the party later on.

                                          Natacha - she is very strict! "If you are not on ze leest, you are not coming een!"

                                             These French gals are out of this world!

There were probably about 200 people there dancing a drinking the space-themed and vodka-based concoctions, but alas, no Gargle Blaster!  As I write this, I haven’t slept for 30 hours...

PARLIAMENT - IT'S OSSUM!

PARLIAMENT - “IT’S OSSUM!”

I was recently invited by a friend to attend a little talk in one of the committee rooms in the House of Commons at Westminster.

                                           Did you bring a  copy of the notes? I forgot mine...

The room looked exactly the same as the one where The Murdochs were recently quizzed.  There were three fixed-position television cameras that I could see in the room (which, incidentally, was much smaller than I had imagined) which is why they didn’t pan when a cream pie was pushed in Murdock, Sr’s face!

After passing through a  security check where they take your pic and issue a pass,

                                                        The image is worse than my psaaport!

 

there’s a short walk which takes you into the extraordinary Great Hall. This alone is worth the visit. It has a terrific history which is told in a semi-graphic form as you enter. Booklets are available to take away including the indispensable “Parliament And You” visitor guide and map. As well as that you’ll need “This Week’s Business” which tells you what’s being discussed such as “Oral Questions” , Select Committees and so forth.

 

There'll be more chimes in 53 minutes....

After the talk that I was attending, I re-visited the little souvenir kiosk on the way out. It is manned in a desultory manner, and features all manner of grotesque and twee “gifts” that, in my view, are best avoided and not to waste one’s money on, unless you really MUST have a bottle of “Mr. Speaker’s Scotch”.

It’s free to go in, and if you see the light on at the top of the clock tower that houses Big Ben (even late at night) you can go in to see and hear your MP discussing matters such as Defence, Northern Ireland Affairs, or even – if you are especially fortunate, Tourism in Yorkshire!  All being discussed that week.

                                                      Suprise me - what's in the bag?

Passing back into the Great Hall on my way out , I heard an American lady gushing that it was “ossum!”. 

 

                                 It's great!

Quite so.

ELF 'N' SAYF-T

Here’s a fundamental difference between council workers in this country and those in Italy.

I'm specifically talking about their attire.

My picture here shows three snappily dressed guys from - believe-it-or-not - the Municipal Council of Sanremo who heard  that morning that €15,000 had been allocated to make improvements to the pavement in Piazza Colombo. So, off they went to measure up.

    How many people does it take to use a steel measure?

They arrived in a little Fiat 500, took out their steel rule, and measured up the stoned area to be dealt with.

The main thing that struck me was how drab our guys are with the obligatory hi-viz jackets! 

                                          Lads! I think it's time for a brew-up, besides I can't remember why we're all 'ere....

After they had measured up and phoned in (presumably) the preliminary details they ducked into the nearby ice cream parlour where they bought three luminously coloured cornetti.  Those bright colours appeared to be the only things they had in common with their British compatriots.

-

Back to the Italian Cultural Institute, this time for a business discussion at the behest of the Cultural Affairs Attaché (r) for lunch in their cafeteria with the luscious Laurette (l). 

Thinks, I've got a great idea for dessert girls....

  Great fun!  I was running late for this tryst, so picked up one of Boris’ bikes at Victoria and peddled to Belgrave Square. This was only the second time I’d used one of these things, and found it a little under-powered. No greater test for anyone’s nerve than approaching Hyde Park Corner at lunch time, I can tell you!

                                Living dangerously without bicycle clips or a skid-lid...

-

Next time, I hope to tell you about my visit to Parliament and one of their Committee Rooms...