New Life

I'm afraid the butterfly is not alive now. Unfortunately before it was released into the outside world. But then it couldn't fly so we don't know what would have happened to it out there...

But look what has appeared on the tree next to the butterfly's place! A new shoot! So life is always appearing, even when you think it is disappearing.

Chasse-neige (Snowdrift)

Liszt is strange sometimes. He had problems with being considered serious. He wrote so much for the crowd that he must have felt a bit odd. Maybe he felt he was not quite being himself most of the time. Was he a serious composer or just an octave-merchant? Well, you know, Beethoven wrote octaves...but not like that!

Perhaps this is one reason he liked to paraphrase (transcribe) other people's music.

Yet Liszt also wrote more serious-sounding music, such as his earnest and for-posterity Sonata in B minor. Serious composers wrote sonatas, remember!

On the one hand, to me this work sounds like a more cerebral version of the Mephisto Waltz no. 1, with added religious subject matter (also improved with things stolen from Alkan's Quatre Âges sonata). On the other hand, the Faust story (Liszt picked the Lenau version, but he would obviously have known the Goethe one too), no matter how sensational the episode, has serious philosophical undertones - and with Liszt, as a cultured and intelligent man, no matter how much of the music is directed at the gallery, I think there is always some serious purpose not far away from the surface.

Anyway, there is a nice piece at the end of his Transcendental Studies, called Chasse-neige.

These studies are often difficult, and often quite big and "Lisztian". Yet writing studies is a scholarly occupation, like writing sonatas, so Liszt is being serious again as well.

Bearing this in mind, I think it's interesting that he ends with a more introverted piece. It's true, it does get loud, but also it has some of the quietest, lightest writing of the twelve studies.

What I wanted to tell you was this.

Liszt seems to me to go in a serious direction at the end of the Transcendental Studies. This serious snow-music reminds me of something else - the lonely figure at the end of Schubert's Winterreise, left out of the village like the old organ-grinder, in the end perhaps being erased by the white snowy landscape.

I find it amusing to note that while Schubert does it his way, Liszt's idea has us not so much erased by frozen blank finality - more like completely buried in the avalanche!

It was rather a dramatic snow-storm, after all.

But we shouldn't judge Liszt by our own standards, or anyone else's. Times were different then.

All the same, I rather like this piece.

It's really transcendental, too. To play it at its best would not sound particularly obviously difficult. But someone good enough to do that would be quite shockingly good!

I don't think I've ever heard it played exactly as I imagine it...but Mr. Arrau is good.

A Colourful Visitor

I was looking in the fridge for the butter.

I looked for a while but I couldn't see it.

Then I moved some potatoes at the bottom of the fridge.

And I found something buttery.

But it wasn't butter.

It was a BUTTERFLY!

That's not normally found in a fridge, is it.

So I have taken it out on a piece of paper.

I let it warm up in the room.

Then I started to think about releasing it.

One of its wings seems not to be working very well, so it was a bit hard to release. When it got warm it started walking across the table towards the light. I'm sure that's a healthy sign but I knew there was a long drop coming up if it fell off the table. I tried letting it out of the window, thinking it might be happier outside even if it was damaged. But the wind was too strong! It's very windy lately.

Then I left it on my doorstep for a while. I thought it might fly away or go to a butterfly-friendly place. I looked again after a while and it was still there! I think it was too cold outside.

So now it is living with me.

I left it some lettuce at first, but it seems that's what the caterpillars eat. Butterflies eat nectar. Or they drink it. They have a long tube that sucks it out of flowers.

So I have been trying to feed the butterfly. It has been given water with honey in it, on the end of a chopstick. I think it got stuck a bit but it's OK now. Honey is rather sticky as Pooh will tell you...

I hope it will get stronger!

Let's see what happens.

Latest Update

The puddings are done and should be maturing nicely. The whole house smelled puddingy and wet while they were steaming. It was quite nice actually!

And your fact for today is the King Charles II was so keen on clocks that he had seven of them in his bedroom. It sounds a lot but then I don't know how big his bedroom was and it could well have been ENORMOUS, perhaps rendering today's fact not-so-remarkable. Nevertheless...

ALKAN

I do like to read some nice information about Alkan. The fact that I have written it myself doesn't put me off at all, oh no.

Alkan is...well you really should know. If not find out!

Alkan is my favourite composer. Although my favourite piece is the Beethoven Violin Concerto (not by Alkan). However, statistically Alkan wins by having more pieces I like. But let's not have Alkan and Beethoven competing, please. After all, they are different. There is no comparison!

So what to tell you about Alkan? The following shiny fishes of delight, which I have gathered from Ronald Smith's book (two books in one now, Alkan: The Man/Alkan: The Music). In English it's the main book (or only book?) for reading in some depth about this great composer. Yes, great, not odd or unusual. Busoni says, in the Foreword to his edition of Liszt's Studies:

These fifty-eight pianoforte pieces alone would place Liszt in the rank of the greatest "pianoforte" composers since Beethoven, Chopin, Schumann, Alkan, Brahms.

And that's true so just think about it please.

OK good things to tell you about Alkan:

1. He entered the Paris Conservatoire at the age of six.
2. He won first prize for solfège at the age of seven and a half.
3. He won first prize for piano when he was eleven!
4. Much later, when he was teaching at the Conservatoire, he awarded a special prize to César Franck. The reason was that Franck decided his sight-reading exam was too easy so played the piece perfectly but in a different key and thereby failed the exam! Presumably Alkan thought he was worth a prize.
5. Alkan may have had (or definitely had, or something) a son known as Delaborde, who was keen on swimming. A joint natatory outing in the river Seine shortly preceded Bizet's death! Not only that but soon after Bizet died, perhaps from swimming with Delaborde, the survivor began the process of marrying Mme. Bizet!
6. Well actually these are all quite gossipy facts, aren't they. Wouldn't it be better to talk about something more useful?

Yes, I certainly will. But that's for next time...

In the Supermarket

Tesco is a famous kind of supermarket. There's nothing so super about a supermarket - they just want you to think it's super. That's not to mention hypermarkets, which must be in a different league altogether.

In my view, it's better to grow food than to buy it, but if you're buying it get it from nearby, from somewhere trustworthy. It's better to buy with no packaging than with tons of illustrations attached to the food (think carefully: are you enjoying the food or what the picture tells you the food should be like?). Lots of things are better, but they are not necessarily convenient in some kinds of lifestyles.

So, in the absence of the above, we go to Tesco.

Today I wanted to tell you a few strange things that Tesco have offered me in the way of unusual experiences recently.

Not the man who bought a single banana and asked for a bag.

Not the homeless man who dashed in to steal food and took...chocolate cake.

Not the young men who looked so pleased with themselves for stealing pizzas.

Not the lady who bumped into everyone she passed in the shop.

No, this is to do with the conversations you find at the end of your journey to hunt and gather a simple meal of yoghurts and curry meals (taking an example at random). Because there are people who take your money in exchange for the goods you want, and those people sometimes like to have a bit of a chat with you. Do you have that? It's fine, but listen to what they say. It's rather odd in my Tesco (when I can actually understand what they are getting at).

A relatively normal conversation was proceeding when one man asked me, "are you Chinese?"

What do you think of that? Look at my picture...do I resemble your typical citizen of the Middle Kingdom? I wonder what made him ask if I'm from China? It's EXTREMELY odd!

The other one is less strange but I still remembered it. I bought two muffins and the following exchange took place:
Man: "......(indecipherable)...."
Me: "What?"
Man: "You have party?"
Me: "...party?" (thinks: what is he talking about?)
Man: "You buy cake. You have party!"
Me: "Oh. No. Well, I suppose I could....Good idea." (leaves)

That's on the evidence of two muffins (blueberry). Whatever next?

Maybe they are nervous. I would like to set them at ease but I'm too apprehensive of what they're going to come up with next!

And this is neither the time nor the place to relate what I have heard from taxi drivers over the years! Maybe one day.

The funny thing might be...are these people wondering at my strange behaviour?

Basketball Saves Lives

Basketball saves lives - it saves the lives of dolphins.

How can this be, you ask?

Dolphins sometimes get bits of plastic stuck in their stomachs. They are friendly but it's not very friendly of us to leave plastic flosting around for them to swallow.

But dolphins are long. Tall is what they would be, but they are normally not standing up.

Dolphins are long, and to get the plastic out can be difficult. That is where basketball players can be useful.

Currently the world's tallest man, Bao Xishun (鲍喜顺, "The Mast") played basketball when he was in the army. He had to leave because of rheumatism, so is no longer a basketball player as far as I know. That is the only thing detracting from the truthfulness of today's assertion that "Basketball Saves Lives", but I think it's broadly true. How so? Because the people at the Royal Jidi Ocean World had two dolphins who were suffering with trapped plastic in them, so they called Bao Xishun so he could reach in and get it out. It worked! The same thing happened when a California dolphin swallowed a screw in 1978. The dolphin's name was Mr. Spock, but they had to call Mr. Ray for assistance - Clifford Ray, player for the Chicago Bulls ('71-'74) and the Golden State Warriors ('74-'81). His arm is 114cm long - 8cm longer than Bao Xishun actually, which I bet the dolphin was very glad of. On the whole!

So there you are. That is your useful fact for today.

Corporation

Good heavens.

I really don't know what to say about this. I'm glad not all the notes are together, though. (There is a "rubato" in the main theme, but I'm not sure why it's in a samba rhythm - it's a minuet!)

Today's Picks

It's JULY, it's RAINING every day, and I'm still wearing my COAT outside.

Other than that, here is today's choice of interesting materials for you:
1. The Cat Parade of Ypres (Kattenstoet)

A parade all about cats, possibly connected with the burning of witches, which isn't a very nice thing to do. It sounded good the first time I heard about it, but now I'm not so sure.


2. The Bicycle-Eating Tree

Now, it's an unlikely sort of thing, is a bicycle-eating tree. How do you explain, then, the fact that I've just found two of them? I think it just shows us that trees have secret sides we ought to think about a bit more...

The first tree is in Scotland.

The second is in Washington, U.S.A.

You know what? I'm sure there are lots more strange things in our world!

Translation

There's a famous line in Baudelaire that goes:

Les soirs illuminés par l'ardeur du charbon

(First line, verse two, "The Balcony")

Actually I thought it was from Proust, and now you can imagine how glad I am that I checked!

Anyway, this line is a sort of famous example of how some things are difficult to translate. Those of you who do not know French, or who think you're probably fairly fluent but actually you're being rather optimistic about that (like me), will already have translated it as:

The evenings illuminated by the ardour of carbon

Which is of course the only sensible translation. These people who pettifogg over unnecessarily precise details may prefer a different rendering but that's not us, eh? We appreciate the broad strokes of our intuitive understanding of the French tongue. Unfortunately that's not how the French would see it, so we have to actually find out what the words mean rather than guessing.

Here are some examples:

The evenings aglow with the heat of the coals (Elaine Marks, 1962)
Evenings illuminated by the glowing coal (Francis Scarfe, 1961)
In those evenings lit by the glowing coal (Francis Scarfe, 1986)
The nights ignited by the fire’s fierce fashions (Arthur Symons, c.1900-1920)
The eves illumined by the burning coal (Frank Pearce Sturm, 1906)
long hours illumined by the glowing fire (Lewis Piaget Shanks, 1931)
The evenings lighted by the hushed flame of the coal (George Dillon, 1936)
On eves illumined by the light of coal (Roy Campbell, 1952)
The evenings lighted by the glow of the coals (William Aggeler, 1954)
Evenings illumined by the glow of coals afire (Jacques LeClercq, 1958)
Evenings lighted by the burning of the coals (Wallace Fowlie, 1963)
On evenings by the ardor of the hearth illumned (Richard L. Tierney, 1981)
Evenings illustrated by living coals (Richard Howard, 1982, no relation)
Those evenings lighted by the lustrous coal-fire’s heat (William H, Crosby, 1991)
Evenings illumined by the ardour of the coal (James McGowan, 1993)
Evenings illuminated by the heat of a coal fire (Cat Nilan, 1999)
On evenings lit by the glowing coal-fire (Peter Low, 2001)
Those evenings lit by the glow of the coals (Rosemary Lloyd, 2002)
On evenings lit by the glow of the ashes (A. S. Kline, 2004)
evenings lit by burning charcoal (Keith Waldrop, 2006)
Evenings bathed in crackling firelight (Ira Lightman, 2007)

(If you want to read more from those translations, look here which is where I found them anyway)

Well there's a few possibilities. One was almost the same as my first attempt, wasn't it! And this is from professionals...

Interesting to see someone struck on an alternative meaning of "illuminated" ("illustrated", like an illuminated manuscript). I don't know if the word has those senses in French and English, though, so I can't make any judgement about its suitability.

So now we know it's hard to translate. But actually everything is hard to translate - unless you're a good translator. Then it is still hard but it looks easy. Remember Samuel Beckett translated Finnegans Wake into French! So anything is possible...

Aha look, you can hear James Joyce reading an excerpt himself with his own good voice hear!

Somehow it seems the best translations give you the feeling of the original, though they may not give the most literal exchange of meanings. The best line is the one that makes you feel the...er...ardour of carbon, as you are reading it.
Perhaps a sense of the social and historical position of the language of the original is possible, too. Cor Blimey, Strike a Light, Guv, that may be adding too many difficulties sometimes.

So something has to come across. Across the page, between the two languages, across the years to today, someone has to make a bridge between the original and the listener or reader. Well, isn't that rather like being an interpreter of music?

To hear a performance by Sviatoslav Richter or Glenn Gould, to take two strong examples, is in some people's eyes to hear a powerful personality imposing itself on the original. Or to hear a partial, or even eccentric, view. But that is not how I see it (or hear it).

Richter is a powerful personality, but what is powerful is the extent to which he's prepared to go to bring you the original. It's instantly recognisable as him, yet it is also instantly recognisable as the "right" music. (That's not to suggest that there's one right way, but if it can sound right or wrong, then I'm calling it right)

Gould is the same. Sadly too many writers describe him as eccentric, perhaps nearly all of them (I am at least one exception), and it makes it very difficult to hear what he's actually doing. I am a Gould sympathiser and I am still surprised when I listen and suddenly realise it's not eccentric. It is always Glenn, Glenn, Glenn, but Glenn likes the music, you see so it's not the same Glenn as if we were hearing some...other...player. (Still trying not to complain about others - they have a right to make a living too! Though they don't always have the right to do it the way that they do, in my view.)

How I imagine playing music is like this. I want to be the composer. I am trying to bring you the music as the composer thought of it - as far as I can understand that. But what is particular about my understanding of how one does this is that I see myself as representing the composer if he were alive today.

That means that things can be different sometimes. Also I do have free will so my "creative commune" can come up with a change in the performance, as, of course, many good players did anyway. Details can change, even the whole idea of the piece. They say Chopin never played the same way twice. It brought tears to the eyes of his pupils - first because of its beauty, second because as they tried to repeat the results it had already changed! How frustrating it must have been. But that was the way it was. And I guess that's the way it is for me, too. Things just can't be the same twice! Even if I tried.

I can't translate
Les soirs illuminés par l'ardeur du charbon
Et les soirs au balcon, voilés de vapeurs roses.
Que ton sein m’était doux! que ton coeur m’était bon!
Nous avons dit souvent d’impérissables choses
Les soirs illuminés par l’ardeur du charbon.
Not today, anyway.

But I have other news from far away and long ago that I have to pass along to you. So that is what I will do, as best I can.

I Return

Well, I'm back from my emergency concert. I've had other things to do too.

It's all go here!

Tomorrow I will try to devote myself seriously to resting. We will see if I can actually achieve this.

Then I might be able to tell you some more things!

OK here is one thing for you:


Hotels produce some odd experiences. Here is one from Sunday night. "How To Replace the Handset". I didn't see the one saying "How To Sit On The Chair". What about "How To Sleep In The Bed"? Or even better, "How To Read This Notice"?

Cheeocolate

I went to Selfridges. You've probably heard of it.

I saw this there!

At Selfridges, they sell many things, including both chocolate and cheese. I noticed that, because of the layout of the food department, the chocolate section smells rather strongly of cheese.

And that is rather strong!

Marimba Ponies

Here is a very odd thing indeed!

(I hope you can watch this video OK)

Secret Citadels

Originally uploaded by philiphoward.

When I took this picture of some ivy I had no idea that it was ivy covering up the Admiralty Citadel, "located just behind the Admiralty building on Horse Guards Parade (London). It was constructed in 1940-1941 as a bomb-proof operations centre for the Admiralty, with foundations nine metres deep and a concrete roof six metres thick"!

It is still used today by the Ministry of Defence - and ignored by me!

Crown Clowns

The Crown Jewels of England are well known. I suppose they are the number one thing in this country to try and steal. Or, you could just admire them at the Tower of London without resorting to crime, which, after all, does not pay.

We had some other Crown Jewels, but one of our Kings (John of England) lost them. Yes, he lost them! He was near the bit of sea known as The Wash, and they got washed away. Deary me.

Then Oliver Cromwell took over many years later. He was not a King but a "Protector", and what he was protecting us from was Kings, among other things (he also protected us from theatre, Christmas, and fashionable haircuts). Having examined the record of one previous head of state, we can be glad Oliver was also protecting the Crown Jewels (which obviously need a lot of protecting, particularly at high tide). However, he didn't do a very good job, because all that is left of the Jewels of that time is three swords and a spoon. And you try fighting with a spoon. Possibly this is why he stopped protecting us, gave up and a big nest of Kings started growing again as Charles II returned from France where he had been visiting relatives for some time. Now that the English had resolved to stop cutting off the heads of Kings etc, it was safe to return and start thinking about new crowns and so on. Crowns are known for being uncomfortable, but let me tell you, you'd be glad of the feeling as long as it meant you still had a head to keep the crown on.

Right, who's going to lose the Jewels next? Oh, and have you looked behind the fridge?

The Hag

I remember a funny thing. It must have been around in the 1980s or 90s. It was a kind of coffee. It came in a jar, and on the jar was the name of the coffee: Café Hag!

What is Hag?

–noun
1. an ugly old woman, esp. a vicious or malicious one.
2. a witch or sorceress.
3. a hagfish.
[Origin: 1175–1225; ME hagge, OE *hægge, akin to hægtesse witch, hagorūn spell, G Hexe witch]

—Related forms
haggish, haglike, adjective

—Synonyms 1. harpy, harridan, virago, shrew.
Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.0.1)
Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2006.

So you see why it was a bit strange. Here it is (I could only find a German picture but it is similar):

Yes, that is the Hag! What a funny thing to sell in England. But as we know, there are lots of product names that haven't travelled well. Remember Coca-Cola (the cocaine-free sugar drink)? In China they picked a translation that meant "bite the wax tadpole" or "female horse stuffed with wax". Now it is called "happiness in the mouth", I hear. In Taiwan they said "Pepsi will bring your ancestors back from the dead" (Come alive with the Pepsi generation). Jolly Green Giant (something to do with frozen vegetables) in Arabic means Intimidating Green Ogre. Clairol's Mist Stick (for hair curling) is all about manure in German.

So what is Hag all about? Well I can tell you now. It was the first decaffeinated coffee, created through a process, invented by Dr. Ludwig Roselius, which was patented in Germany in 1906. Dr. Roselius supported numerous artists as well as one called Adolf Hitler (he met him in 1923) so you can put that in your cup and stir it too. Café Hag, OK, "HAG", pronounced Haaaahhhhg in the adverts, comes from Kaffee HAG, the original German name, which is short for Kaffee-Handels-Aktien-Gesellschaft. Which means something like Coffee Company. So no hags there. Kaffee-Hexen-Aktien-Gesellschaft would have been better (made by witches).

The French name was Café Sanka (sans-caffeine, san-ka: caffeine-free) and this name was used in the US, where Roselius had been selling his Café HAG since 1914, but he had his company and trademark confiscated by the Alien Property Custodian since it was the First World War and he was now an ENEMY!

So you see the dangerous and exciting world of coffee! Now you know why everyone shakes after they drink it.

FridgeCam

I have been keeping my eye on this FridgeCam (a Web Cam inside a refrigerator) for some time. It is in Kawasaki, Japan.

I always wondered if it was real. Now I have evaluated it, I can confirm that things do get eaten! The contents of the fridge changes. But you must wait and see.

If you want to make your own FridgeCam, there are instructions on this page:

http://www001.upp.so-net.ne.jp/gardens/make.html

Good Luck! And don't get too cold!

Extremely Mediocre

What is happening? What is happening is that the whole country of Great Britain is going a bit mad. Based purely on the level and intensity of media response, it seems that everyone is highly affected by the hot weather we are having.

As everyone prepares to be blasted by "the hottest recorded temperature in Britain EVER" I am left wondering why it is that I find it merely warm. Can it be that it is not actually dangerously hot? Well, you wonder, what temperature are we talking about here? Well, the hottest temperature EVER in Britain would be something like 38°C. When it gets over 30, British things start to melt and break. 38 is hot but...there are places in this world of ours where 38 is fairly normal!

The hottest recorded temperature "EVER" on the surface of the Earth was 57.7°C in Al 'Aziziyah in Libya, on 13th September 1922. Now THAT is very HOT.

If this heat crisis continues I shall probably start finding this country more attractive. I don't start to warm up before we reach 30°C so I will be feeling fine I should expect. But what of my fellow countrymen? To be honest, I haven't asked them. I have just read reports (apparently it reached 52°C on a bus and 47 on the Tube - so some concern is justified I think, not from me though because I don't use either of these normally). But I think we have to admit that htis country is used to quite a middle-of-the-road sort of temperature. It never really boils and it never really freezes. Isn't the national temperament much the same? One could well gripe at that, but I think these days particularly we can be glad that extremism is largely missing from the British psyche.

Petals Around the Rose

Here is a puzzle.

They say that the cleverer you are, the longer it will take you to solve it.

So I am encouraged that I have NO CLUE at all about it!

Steepish!

The world's steepest street is Baldwin Street in Dunedin, New Zealand. The slope is 20° or 38%!

Mrs. Miller

Go Downtown, where all the lights are bright! There's something pretty surprising waiting for you tonight! And listen out for some important whistling at around the 2 minute point!

Good Luck!

Rumours of his own demise

I heard today a recording of the Mozart Concerto for Two Pianos in E flat, K. 365, played by Chick Corea and Friedrich Gulda (conducted by Harnoncourt). That is Chick Corea, the jazz pianist, playing Mozart, with Friedrich Gulda, the classical pianist who also played jazz. It was quite good. I have now read that in the late 1990s Gulda faked his own death in order to see what the obituaries said about him. This is quite interesting! I would like to know a bit more...

Paderewski's Parrot

Paderewski had a parrot. He got it in New Zealand. It would scratch at the door when he was practising. Then when it was let in, it would perch on his pedalling foot. At certain moments it would exclaim,"Lord, what beautiful music!"

I read this in The Paderewski Memoirs. There is no mention of the parrot on the Internet, which is why I had to tell you the story myself. If you ask me, there is something wrong with people. Fancy not knowing about this parrot!

Berlin Facts

I am back!

Here are some handy facts about Berlin:

1. Somewhere in the Prenzlauer Berg area of Berlin, a man is twitching. He is twitching quite a lot.

2. When a performance of Michael Finnissy's piano music gets out of control, burly berlin policemen get called in.

3. It is easy to rhyme only with lonely, maybe with baby, but only one person could rhyme lemon with demonstrate.

Answers tomorrow.

The Berliner Klaviertage 2006 were impossible: it was impossible that such interesting pianists could ever play in the same city, in the same festival, over three days - most of them on the same night! Amazing. It was very very good and I hope they get the opportunity to have a lot more piano festivals.

Wikipedia...and Durians

Wikipedia is an online encyclopaedia (/encyclopedia) that anyone can edit. It is quite useful, because there are now so many facts available there. Imagine, a book that's always growing! It is not perfect, of course, but I think the principles are pretty sound. I am in favour of it - any complaints that could be made about it are a bit pointless because it is the best we have.

I sometimes correct ridiculous spelling mistakes and things, as I am reading. I haven't written anything longer than one paragraph, since I am not really an expert on anything! Today I updated my User Page. You can read there a lengthy diatribe about Wikipedia! Hooray!

I wanted to write about durians today, but there is not time. For now, here is a relevant picture instead!


Other facts of the day: I have realised that I don't really like chocolate. Also wheat makes me sleepy, on the whole. So I will be watching out for those!

Roosting, Twinkling

There is a whitish pigeon sleeping outside my front door. I thought it was an ornament! But it moved very very slightly...

I don't have a picture of it.

Today is the 8th May. That is Gottschalk's birthday, and the day Ethel Smyth and Luigi Nono died (not the same year...)

For the last four days, a giant mechanical elephant and a giant little girl have been performing in London, near Trafalgar Square/Piccadilly/St. James's Park. Not only do I not have a picture of it, I didn't even see it!

This is something I have seen, many times. It is the constellation Orion (Orion the Hunter) which is the constellation I most easily recognise in the sky over England. (Photo credit: Matthew Spinelli)

English Weather

My Legs

The concert was very acclaimed - I suppose I should believe everyone and say: it was good. Of course, naturally there were things I would like to do better. Lots of things! I was happy with it, though.

You can see the programme now, available in two parts: page one, and page two. (requires Adobe Acrobat PDF reader)

I will be playing the same three Finissy Gershwin Arrangements in Berlin in two weeks. (As well as other works, of course!)

So now all we have is the famous Leg Issue. My legs hurt a lot after I play! Why is this?

Not immediately after, but when I have got back to wherever I am staying (my house, in this case). Then I am like a cripple. It's a bit of a mystery, but it will be gone quite soon - until next time!

Michael Finnissy was pleased with his concert. It was a good audience, and they were all listening very well. Howard Skempton was the nearest person - he, like all of them, so welcoming the music that I could only play better!

Lots of good composers under one roof! Quite memorable - for those who were participating - different for those who were slaving away at the piano - memorable in both ways though!

Any questions?

Cat Milk

I've talked about whale milk before.

But in the supermarket round the corner from my house, they sell something called "Cat Milk". I always wondered what it is. Is it milk for cats, or milk from cats?

Someone else has had the same thought.

Why can I not tell if this is serious or not?

I mean, when it says "Goat Milk" it is milk from goats, not milk for goats.

Well, maybe I will never know...

On the day I see a cat going round the shop with its shopping list in its paws, I will finally understand!

Expert Expounds as Expected

Derek Mitchell, an international security expert, described the incidents outside the White House as " a huge embarrassment".

He added: "The Chinese wanted to beam back to Beijing pictures that are perfect. But most of the White House preparations of pomp and pageantry were poor."

Read it again: "The Chinese...beam back to Beijing/pictures that are perfect....preparations of pomp and pageantry were poor".

??

Is this deliberate?

b_ b_ to b_
p_ that are p_
p_of p_ and p_ are p_

??

Derek Mitchell, an international security expert, is either a bit of a media professional and thinks alliteration will Make his Message Memorable, or he is naturally blessed with poetic skills that he doesn't know about!

Identity

I have heard of two young pianists who changed their names.

One did it because there was already a pianist with the same name.

The other seemingly changed his name because his real name wasn't very interesting. I'm not sure about that, but certainly his new choice of name was much more exotic!

Actually, both names were changed to a more "exotic" one. Exotic means foreign, non-English, basically. The classic example was the American pianist Olga Samaroff (1880-1948, born Lucy Mary Olga Agnes Hickenlooper, in Texas). She later married Leopold Stokowski (1882-1977), who, though he had a Polish name and an indeterminate Mid-East-European accent, was from London. I know he was, there is a plaque about him on a school just up the road from my house. Actually it appears that Stokowski, despite having an exotic name, accent, hairstyle, etc, actually changed his name to a less exotic one! If what I read is correct, he was born Antoni Stanisław Bolesławowicz. I guess the public wouldn't have known what to do with that name. Well, I'm not a Stokowski biography expert (did you guess?) so we will have to leave him there for now.

What I was thinking was, if there was another pianist called Philip Howard, what would I do? You know, the genuine answer to that is I would expect him to change his name. I wonder what that tells you about me? I must be very egotistical! But not as much as people who take fake identitites. After all, they must be proud people who try to protect the new myth of themselves - so that nobody notices how boring they really are.

Except you, Leopold! Because, of course, the truth is everyone is a lot more interesting than they realise. If only they would have more confidence in themselves!

You heard it here first.

Jingle Pot

I have a book called 1001 Natural Wonders You Must See Before You Die. I wish it were called 1001 Natural Wonders You Must See. Of course I will see them (if I do manage to see all 1001 of them) before I die. Or should all books change their titles now?

"OXFORD DICTIONARY OF ENGLISH - FOR PEOPLE WHO ARE NOT DEAD"

"THE DA VINCI CODE - BESTSELLER, READ BY LIVING PEOPLE THROUGHOUT THE WORLD"

"THE PICKWICK PAPERS - THE TIMELESS FAVOURITE OF THOSE MILLIONS WHOSE FINGERS WERE ABLE TO GRASP ON TO LIFE SUFFICIENTLY TO BE ABLE TO TURN ITS PAGES"

The girl at the checkout looked at me with a funny look. As if she thought I was going to die in the next month! Maybe I accidentally picked the book out of the 'Terminal Illness' section? I don't think so.

I have seen several books called "Something Something, Blah Blah Blah, ...BEFORE YOU DIE". I suppose the publisher imagines the title will lend a certain urgency to your book browsing. You must buy the book ...BEFORE YOU DIE!

We could add it to all sorts of things we want to sell. Decoding Skin - Philip Howard's Solo Piano Album of Music to Listen to Before You Die!

Back to the 1001 Natural Wonders book. I didn't count them. I believe there are 1001. They said it, that's good enough for me. And they are all very natural and wonderful, just like it says.

I don't know the meanings of foreign place-names, but some of the English names are quite funny. Things are often odd or eccentric in England - it is good, one of the main positive features of this country in my opinion.

There was one I remembered. A cave somewhere. Pothole is a word for a hole in the road, or apparently also for a cave - a very big hole in the road, I suppose. That could explain a little bit about the funny name...

JINGLE POT

Well, I liked it!

Consulate

Remember me?

It was pointed out to me today that I said I'd be back in the blink of an eye. I did imply that it could be a long blink, so I think we can say I have been true to my word there.

Phrasebooks are useful. They are also quite funny sometimes. The old example was the phrase "My postilion has been struck by lightning". Very useful, eh?

I have here Collins' Greek Phrasebook compiled by Christopher Scott and first published in 1964. Perhaps a little quaint because it is old. Perhaps a little frightening as it demonstrates the frame of mind with which the Englishman approached travel in Greece at that time! (Haven't they heard of Byron?)

The Collins series is interesting from this period. Some phrases don't necessarily spring to mind, or certainly not to my mind. The Spanish book tells you how to say "He is a pansy" - a pejorative term for homosexual. I don't think I would say it in English - what are the chances of needing to say it in Spanish?

So let's open the pages of our Greek phrasebook and see what we want to say to the Greeks.

Good Morning.
Good Evening.

It starts well!


I beg your pardon.
Am I disturbing you?
I am terribly sorry.

Already several ways of saying sorry! Very important to the English then, and still is. Sorry!

Too dear.
Very cheap.
Quickly.
Slowly.
Gently.
Look out!
This way.
That way.
I am an Englishman.
What is the matter?
On the contrary.
Very well.
Whose turn is it?
It is not my fault.
I do my best.
Will this do?

A lovely little story. What was happening, you will have to decide. What about "I am an Englishman"? It sounds almost an admission of some shameful secret.

Now for the section called "General Difficulties". Always my favourite! Here we go:

I don't understand you.
Of course I don't, I'm English! We don't have foreign languages, you know. We do have phrasebooks though.

That man is following me everywhere.
Oh no, not that man! He was busy in 1964. Even if he only followed 10% of the people who bought this book.

I shall call a policeman.
I shall stay here.
(Threatening to occupy Greece?)
Help! Fire! Thief!
Who are you?
I don't know you.
I don't want to speak to you.
Leave me alone.
Go away.
That will do!
You are mistaken.
I didn't do it.
I will give you nothing.
It is very annoying.
It has nothing to do with me.
What have I done?
I have done nothing.
I have paid you.
I have paid you enough.
Let me pass.

A bit of excitement!

Many other useful phrases are presented in an interesting way. Those with lightning reflexes can grab their phrasebook, find the section for "Chemist and Hairdresser", read the Greek letters or use the imitated pronunciation system, and exclaim:

The water is too hot, you are scalding me!

I have been burnt by the sun would probably be obvious without the thought being spoken aloud. Also they were expecting it anyway.

A hundred Drachmas to win on...
Betting on horses? You don't get that in modern phrasebooks.

Does this street go to the Acropolis?
Did they ask that on every street?

We can see the travelling English at work fairly often:
I do not want anything with garlic in it.
We do not want retsina.

I have left my glasses in the toilet...
...was a bit puzzling for me. How did they get down the toilet?

Hey-ho, travelling was a strange business for us then. Not for everyone though. And you have to give them credit for trying with the phrases and everything (particularly if he was a pansy - was it the man who was following me everywhere?)

And if it all gets too much, if the prices are too high, the food too Greek, the language not English enough, then there is always one phrase standing by. The phrase of phrases. The cure-all:

Where is the British Consulate?

See you there!