Des sculptures surprises

I love sculptures made of almost any material and my favourite is anything set in the outdoors, especially when the work has been designed to fit a particular niche or landscape. I was therefore  delighted to find, quite by chance, when visiting last week with friends in Verteuil-sur-Charente, France, a château parkland with six huge and wonderful works. The story of l'Abrègement is quite dramatic. Former medieval buildings were replaced in the 18th century to create the very handsome  Château l'Abrègement. At this time, around 1750, the then newly married Lord Cornay and his Lady, also planted an adjacent oak forest, loved and cared for by following generations. But in 1999, on a single frightening night when a tempest raged through central France, more than15,000 mighty trees in the park were blown down. Tree trunks and debris were scattered across the landscape, falling far and wide with masses on top of each other.
To create something spectacular from this disaster, the present owners (descended from the same original planters) invited several sculptors to be inspired by the fallen wood and create something to echo the savage beauty of nature. Huge sculptures of intertwined branches and tall oak, sequoia and chestnut were conceived by artists including Anthony Gormley, Andy Goldsworthy, Joel Shapiro and Christian Lapie. As well as walking around the park to marvel at the sculptures, the Château also has a lush vegetable garden and a beautiful walled flower garden. What a find, off the beaten tourist track, in a quiet area of rural France.  

Sandwich lunch

Did you eat a sandwich today? I didn't but then it's a Sunday so not a regular working day but most days in the week, I do. According to a recent article in the Guardian, as a nation we buy 4 billion sandwiches a year and forecast from the British Sandwich Association, is that number grows at a steady 2% – or 80 million sandwiches – each year - wow! What continues to challenge the industry though is that we still make so many sandwiches at home – an estimated 5bn a year. Now that's more my sandwich habit - as friends and colleagues will laughingly testify. But why spend at least £2 when you can slap something together at home for a few pence? Ok - it might not look so good but surely as tasty and less packaging for the world to deal with. Having said that, there's something of the satisfying treat about buying a sandwich, especially if you're having a rubbish day. And then only a sandwich will do - a plastic container of salad just doesn't hit the spot. But look out for the growing trend of  'flexitarianism' which is all about giving up meat for a day or two a week, or going vegan for a while. More vegetarian sandwich options are coming up fast and M&S is due to launch a range of vegan sandwiches on  red, green and yellow vegetable-based breads any time now. Ye gods - what would the grumpy old Earl of Sandwich made of that?

Dreams and nightmares

I’ve been re-visiting Shakespeare lately – amazed anew that his themes of politics and power transfer so well, over 400 years, to life today. Actually it was the weather that most recently transferred. Funnily enough, a freezing snowy night at my local Questors Theatre was just right for A Midsummer Night’s Dream which was written in 1595, when England was suffering from the worst summer weather for decades:   

“And thorough this distemperature we see
The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts
Far in the fresh lap of the crimson rose,
And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown
An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
Is, as in mockery, set.”

Of course, as a comedy, the Dream is delightfully light of touch but the first scene declamation by Egeus about  his daughter, Hermia, sent shivers up my spine.

“As she is mine, I may dispose of her:
Which shall be either to this gentleman
Or to her death, according to our law”

That dictatorial power of a father over a daughter, especially for one with no prospect of financial independence, still echoes in many households today. 

From Puck and those fairies, I flew to a very hard landing on another cold night, to Julius Caesar at the Bridge Theatre, represented in a contemporary world of plotting, assassination and civil war. This noisy, menacing production brings alive frightening scenes of intrigue, murder and mob manipulation – all very easily re-imagined in the world of politics around the world today.

My next planned Shakespearean treat is Macbeth at the National Theatre. I’m expecting gruesome psychodrama – ooooh – just right for hopefully, a hot June evening out! 

Opera Fix

Two different opera experiences this month and interesting to compare. I'm still an opera-goer though much less frequently than in previous years. I no longer share a Royal Opera House subscription with my friend - working away from home messes up those regular evenings out. So for the first time, I joined friends at a 'Live from the Met' performance of L'Elisir d'Amore, at the very comfortable Curzon Cinema. Of course, Donizetti's music is wonderful, Pretty Yende was sublime and the comedy was played up beautifully. But from my seat in the cinema, it all seemed to just pass me by. I didn't feel anything. The cinema screen acted as an actual barrier for me. I definitely enjoyed my evening out but the opera experience just didn't hit the spot. So when I went to see the V&A exhibition, Opera: Passion, Power & Politics, shortly after, I was half expecting to be similarly under-whelmed but in fact, I was totally blown away! The super headphones for the sound system were amazing. The experience was personally and totally immersive - how wonderful to be completely surrounded by shifting sounds and music as well as not being distracted by other visitors' chatter about their latest news and gossip. The very powerful exhibition themes were wonderfully demonstrated and 'played out' via a clever selection of seven operas (how on earth did they make the choice?!) from seven cities, accompanied by masses of costumes, musical instruments, maps, scene sets, paintings, hats, dresses, etc, etc. I positively danced out of that new Sainsbury Gallery. I can't wait for my next 'real' opera date which isn't until May at Glyndebourne - I'm going to need another 'fix' before then!


  

Burns Night twice over

This weekend I was lucky enough to be invited to two Burns Night Suppers - especially so as I love haggis and can always be persuaded to sip a 'wee dram'. The first evening was over at my friend's home in North Ealing where a jolly party cheered in the haggis, presented on a platter and an Irish neighbour (closest  accent we could find) gamely recited the 'Address to a Haggis' and stabbed it with a vengeance on the line "And cut you up with ready slight, trenching your gushing entrails bright". Born into a family of poor tenant farmers and a lifelong socialist, Burns would have warmed to our after-supper discussions about this week's Davos headlines, the latest Tory party dramas and what is to be done about the NHS?
My second Burns Night celebration was by contrast, totally about food and festivity, the more popular aspect of Rabbie heritage. This time a whole host of friends and neighbours gathered at our local pub, The Fox in Olde Hanwell, as the haggis was piped in by a wonderfully kilted piper, presented on a silver salver. We were treated to an extremely dramatic 'Address' and haggis stabbing before all tucking in to another delicious traditional supper. To work off some of those tasty calories, a few of us squashed into the mini marquee for some Scottish dancing (well, 'square' dancing but close enough?), later followed by an  'Immortal Memory' recital, a ‘Toast to the Lassies’ and a 'Reply to the Laddies'. As we agitate and campaign for gender equality, these traditional entertainments felt somewhat outdated. I know a few shared my misgivings but not for long as, all too soon, we were standing up and joining hands for 'Auld Lang Syne' and dear Robbie Burns brought the evening to a close. His legacy lives on for another year.