Thursday, April 13, 2006
Wednesday 5 April 2006
Before leaving La Neuve-Lyre last week we arranged for another delivery of heating fuel, as the level had gone down to 50. It was a measure of how far we had come that this now seemed so straightforward and easy, unlike the first time I ordered it from Saint-Denis not really having much idea of what I was doing, and having to make sure we arrived there in time for the delivery from Le Relais de Amis on a bitterly cold December morning. It was brought by the same driver, with the same Johnny Hallyday-iana all over the front of his lorry, but whereas last time he had to fill the tank in the garage perched on top of a cane chair with the seat out, the chair is now nicely re-caned and in position by the phone, and he was able to use a sturdy stepladder which had since arrived from Italy. Progress!
We also received a bill from Monsieur A, only the second one ever, and as expected fairly substantial, including lots of electrical work – which is almost all finished now; only a few outhouses and the garden lamps – and the socle, but, strangely enough, not the chimney sweeping. Perhaps that will be included with the fitting of the new heating system. Before I left I put the cheque in the post, together with a letter we had drafted together, thanking him and saying that we would be away until 10 April, after which we would be ready for the installation of the new heating, which had been scheduled for April. We think it should only take about four days, unlike Lapeyre! and will obviously be less in the house; mainly in the boiler room and veranda and garden.
Just before leaving on Friday morning I took several photos of the new kitchen and bathrooms, which should be ready here in Paris in a day or two. I caught the bus as planned – far fuller than usual! – but found when I got to Evreux station that the train I had intended to catch only ran on Saturdays; I don't think I was the only one to make this mistake. This meant I had an hour and a half to wait instead of half an hour, so went across to the Hôtel de l'Ouest and had a long chicken salad sandwich in the bar. Fortunately I had my book with me: "Adolphe" by Benjamin Constant, which I had studied at university and recently re-found in N's library; written in 1828 and a poignant and agonising account of the breakdown of a love affair. It is so full of anguish that I can only read it in small doses. By the time the train came it was very bright and sunny, and the platform was very crowded – perhaps people in Normandy only come out in the spring?
When I arrived at Saint-Denis N had only just arrived from meeting Clare and Charlotte. They stayed until just after Sunday lunch and it was the first time for a long while that I had been in the company of an almost two-year-old, which I found very entertaining, unlike N who thinks granddaughters are only of any use once they are old enough to play duets. On Saturday afternoon we all went to the local park where we found swings and slides and toys to ride on, and the weather was even warmer, and I thought perhaps I had brought the wrong clothes. As it was I brought a big coat and a short coat and think I will leave the thick winter coat here, and certainly didn't need to bring boots at all. The weather forecast keeps mentioning what a long cold winter this has been; it's hard to believe it is finally over. On Sunday morning however it rained hard while we were going round the market, but we found the Vietnamese artist at his portrait stall and introduced our visitors and I said I would like to come and have a sketch portrait done but he said he was only there on Sundays and next Sunday I have to be at the St John Passion rehearsal by 10.00 in the morning, so can't see how it is possible at the moment. Fortunately the rain had stopped by the time C & C left; N went on the train with them as far as the Gare du Nord; and after I had cleared lunch I collapsed on the sofa with a cup of tea. I found – as N had said – that with digital TV we now receive Tele Monte Carlo and every afternoon there are continuous episodes of Poirot and Morse, so was very happy watching one of the former. (Poirot seems much more logical in French, but Morse not at all. N does not like Morse as he thinks he treats his sergeant so badly.)
On Monday there was much clearing up to be done; wiping of sticky finger marks and retrieving of pieces of Fuzzy Felt from under the sofa, not to mention bed changing and hoovering up remains of food from under both kitchen and dining room tables. N was very busy getting to the end of his history of the Ursuline Convent, so after lunch I went into Paris firstly to FNAC at Châtelet to take several films to be developed and to look for slide mounts for microfilms he had been sent by archives. I then went on to the branch of Leroy Merlin we had found by the Pompidou Centre, and had a very good look round, and bought a square basket to go under my new rectangular wash basin, plus tooth brush holder and soap dispenser to go on top. (No luck however with bathroom bins, toilet roll holders or curtain poles.) I enjoyed watching all that was going on front of the Pompidou Centre, and remembering as always that the first sunny days in Paris mean hordes of people strolling up and down and sitting outside cafés. Perhaps even more so than usual, given the long hard winter. Once back at the Forum des Halles shopping centre at Châtelet I looked briefly in Habitat and in Muji, where I found a very elegant simple rail of hooks for kitchen towels, which sticks on the wall, (no need for the drill!) and then came across a shop I had never been in before called Jacqueline Riu and inspired by the sunshine, bought a lovely dark orange tiered cotton skirt, just the right length.
Tuesday was a day to avoid going into Paris as there was another general strike – the first one last Tuesday had no effect whatsoever in Normandy – so we ended up doing an awful lot of local shopping. In the morning I went to the market, quite unlike Sunday, beautifully dry and sunny, and bought fish, garlic, spices, very cheap brown and gold satin cushion covers for the Italian sofa at LNL, and then on to Carrefour for an extension lead/adaptor so that I can use my Cambridge ironing board in the bathroom at Saint-Denis instead of having to clear the kitchen table. (And listen to the radio at the same time! At LNL I am now using the Italian ironing board, which is very wide and suitable for ironing large sheets and king size quilt covers, and also has a sleeve board and a useful shelf underneath.) The only local evidence of the strike at Saint-Denis was at the nursery school round the corner; a large grève notice on the door and a pizza delivery drawing up outside as I went past.
In the afternoon we planned to go to the Quai des Marques – a local warehouse full of cut price famous brands, just the other side of the river - to replenish N's wardrobe; always an complicated business as he has no idea what size he takes in anything, and has to rely on an ancient Marks & Spencer list in his wallet. In the event he took a wrong turning and we ended up going to Castorama (DIY) and Auchan (supermarket) first. In Castorama we bought wallpaper for the back hall, 20 rolls of a nice vague cream pattern; curtain pole, fittings and rings for the kitchen window in a natural wood that N suggests I paint in the same red as the kitchen stool (but I am not convinced) and two very simple white toilet roll holders for our two very simple new white loos. I found a bathroom bin in Auchan, along with all the usual bulky things we get when we go there; toilet rolls, kitchen rolls, milk and wine. N was very pleased to find larger than usual blank CDs for reproducing his Ursuline history. I remembered that the last time we had been to Auchan it had snowed hard and N had trouble identifying the car when we came out.
We did eventually get to the Quai des Marques, at about five o'clock, and N bought a wonderfully rejuvenating blue denim coloured cotton suit at my suggestion, along with the trousers and shirts he had originally gone for. After having carried all this, plus the heavy stuff from Auchan, from the garage all the way up to the apartment, we sat down for a very welcome aperitif, and then a wonderful dinner – one of my favourites – salmon and asparagus with hollandaise sauce and rosé wine, followed by strawberries.
Thursday 6 April 2006
Also since arriving here I have had my eyebrows shaped, less drastically than last time I'm pleased to say, and have done my original Pilates video once so far, but intend to do it again on Friday. It didn't seem so dull now it was less familiar, but I was certainly stiff about the hips. Once I get back to LNL must establish a proper exercise regime, which should be easier since the DVD player works and now that there won't be workmen arriving every morning at 8.00, well not for very long. I have also got up to date with washing and ironing, and put aside a bag of sheets to wash and dry in the Normandy wind and sunshine, as opposed to an expensive Saint-Denis laundry. I have listened to my St John Passion Chorales several times while reading the German words; despite N saying that it sounds like Christmas whenever I do it.
Yesterday afternoon I went to the material shops in Montmartre, and Sacré Coeur looked beautiful against the sunny blue sky. I spent a long time in a fabric department store called Reine; six floors with different sorts of fabric on each, dressmaking, furnishings and haberdashery. On the ground floor with the dress fabrics there were little shop models in the centre of each display dressed in a variety of exquisitely made tiny garments – dresses, wedding outfits, trousers, ball gowns, suits, each about two feet high. I was gazing at these and thinking how much I would have loved them when I was a teenager when a lady customer behind me said weren't they wonderful, ces petits mannequins? And that she always admired them whenever she came.
I bought white lining for the curtains I am proposing to make out of four pale blue single sheets (part of the Italian inheritance) for the spare blue and yellow bedroom and finally found four blue and gold tie backs to hold them – I have been searching for these for some time and until now whenever I found anything suitable there were never as many as four. I also got some plain red cotton as on examining my tomato material discovered there was even less than I thought, and now plan to put a red border around each curtain. (Perhaps not with a red rail now….) I also got three buttons to replace a broken set on one of N's jackets, which involved taking a tube of buttons to a vendeuse, who wrote me out the inevitable little ticket and put three buttons in a little basket, which I took along to the caisse in order to pay; the princely sum of 1 euro 80.
A new project: about fifteen years ago N published a dictionary of useful terms for English speakers buying property in France, and when we began searching for The House in Normandy I even started to make a list of important omissions. We also began thinking that with the rise of British TV programmes on buying French property it should perhaps be re-issued, or at least brought to the attention of the relevant TV producers. Last week N heard from a new editor who wants to bring out another edition, and as it was originally compiled on some long dead computer system, the first thing to be done (by me!) is the re-typing of the existing text in Word on the computer at LNL.
Friday 7 April 2006
Yesterday I received an e-mail from the organisers of the St John Passion with a last minute change of venue for the Saturday rehearsals - probably due to the Sorbonne being “blocked” by striking students - from a place I didn't know some way away to the Salle Gaveau. I have been there a couple of times to see N play with the RATP orchestra, and in addition to being only about 20 minutes down our metro line, it is a beautiful hall with Proustian connections.
I went into Paris to collect our photos from FNAC in the afternoon; lots of the house and garden at LNL and I am especially pleased with the pictures of the new kitchen. I looked at shops in the Forum des Halles again, and went as far as BHV and bought several bits and pieces for the new kitchen. It is such a pleasure to be out in the Paris streets in the sunshine! In the evening I went to the local chorale; the first time since before Christmas, as since the week when the chef was ill, I have only been in Saint-Denis during the February holidays, or if on a Thursday, when something else was happening. I was especially pleased as having not sung for so long, I felt ill prepared for the weekend.
They seemed pleased to see me, although there were not that many of them there, and several well known faces were missing. We started with voice exercises as usual, which did me good, and then went on to a song we had been learning when I was last with them, and which they didn't seem to have worked at much since. They had given a concert at Stains – the one which was postponed because of the riots in November – wearing red, I was shown the photos! The next concert will be in Saint-Denis on 25 June, with a chamber orchestra; we are due in Cambridge just before that, so don't know if I will be back in time. We spent the bulk of the rehearsal learning a Credo by Vivaldi; very simple even for my basic sight-reading skills, and very beautiful. For the next two weeks there are Easter holidays, and it starts again on Thursday 27.
This afternoon we have done yet more shopping; at a garden centre called Truffaut where most of what N bought was for the window boxes and little garden here in Saint-Denis. He has done a lot of work on it this week and it's looking very good. We also went to Leroy Merlin for La Neuve-Lyre shopping and got curtain poles and related accessories for the spare bedroom - I really think these are the last! – more white paint, red picture frames for the kitchen, kitchen roll holder, wood to border the socle under the shower and glue to stick it, and wood to repair the bottom panels of the French windows in our bedroom.
Wednesday 12 April 2006
The whole of last weekend was taken up with the Saint John Passion – an amazing experience. The Saturday afternoon rehearsal at the Salle Gaveau was due to start at 3.00; I got there very early and enjoyed watching the others arrive. The members of the « choir for a day » were much like singers in Cambridge, lots of women in their fifties and sixties - only more chic and bien coiffée - and fewer men. As we all had name badges I enjoyed seeing what everyone was called; many of the women seemed to be Marie-Something. We all sat in the stalls; the orchestra and soloists were on the stage - the orchestra with their backs to us - and the Sorbonne choirs, two or three of them I think, were in the galleries. The first event was the news that the original Evangelist was ill and had been replaced at the last moment by an exuberant young Norwegian.
The singing went well - much more easy then when practising at home with N and his viola, more slowly for a start, and surrounded by excellent singers. I sat next to two sixty-something sisters, one of whom had taught English, who were very friendly. There was a brief supper break before the evening rehearsal, during which I made a quick dash to a brasserie I had seen on the way in, on the opposite corner. This was a wise move, as it filled up quickly with choir and orchestra, and there was not room for all, even conductor and soloists who wandered in late. I had a large salad and a glass of red wine and watched everybody else in between reading another novella by Benjamin Constant called Le Cahier Rouge, in the same volume as Adolphe, and not nearly so melodramatic. I felt it would make an excellent film. (The story, not the restaurant…)
The evening rehearsal was very enjoyable; the soloists were excellent and I became so involved with the German recitative and arias that it was a shock each time when the rehearsal picked up again in French. I remembered that I liked the German version because the disciples are referred to as « Jünge » (lads) and I like the part where Pilate says « Was ich geschrieben habe, das ich habe geschrieben. » We finished earlier than the scheduled time of 10.00; our conductor said he was thinking of those of us who lived out in the suburbs who would have an early start the next day. I realised this included me! By the time I had taken the metro home, and gone to bed it was time to get up again and leave at 8.45 the next morning; a bit like commuting.
The venue for Sunday’s rehearsal and performance was the Cirque d’Hiver Bouglione, a place I had never heard of let alone visited, in the 11th arondissement which I don’t know at all. I discovered during the course of the day that it had been built as a permanent winter circus about 150 years ago, but that in 1934 had been bought by the Bouglione family, who had owned it ever since. Inside it was full of faded glory, painted red and gold everywhere, with old posters of lion tamers and human canon balls and trapeze artists, and there were wonderful indoor stables with red and gold painted stalls, but no longer sign of any horses. I can’t imagine how animals lived or came in and out in the centre of a city.
The rehearsal was due to start at 10.00 in the morning, but it was about 11.40 before we actually started singing. Those of us who arrived early went in by the stage door as directed, and made our way through a smaller theatre to the main arena and gazed in amazement; a woman next to me said she had not been there for forty years, when she used to be taken every year for a Christmas treat by her father’s work. We were all ushered out again while a lighting engineer was hoisted up onto a rope, and then spent a long time hanging around in the bar, holding onto coats and bags, (the lucky ones found seats) and doing some warm-up breathing and singing exercises, which made me think of the exercises before a Fun Run.
Eventually we got into our seats in the auditorium, shaped rather like a mini Albert Hall, with the orchestra and soloists in the centre, the Sorbonne choirs immediately behind and the « choir for a day » high up around half of the sharply tiered seating; the remaining half was reserved for the audience. Both I and my two companions - the sisters I had found again - thought we had sung far better on the Saturday; it was very difficult to hear anyone else around us, and also difficult to see our music as the lighting was not good. There was also the problem of standing and sitting; we had tip-up seats which made quite a noise when multiplied by 600, so were asked to sit on the top edge of the seats in the upright position. This was all right for a while, but then became rather uncomfortable.
However it was fascinating to see the orchestra down in the arena, and although the soloists now had their backs to us, it was just as dramatic. There was a longish break before the afternoon session, so I settled down to eat my (supermarket) sandwich in the bar, and was joined by my two companions with their home-made picnic, and they kindly bought me coffee afterwards. We agreed that fresh air and a stretch of the legs was needed, and I set off round the block; down the Boulevard Voltaire to the Place de la République, still full of police buses, and back up to the little street where the stage door was.
The performance was due to start at 4.30 and we were to take our seats between 3.30 and 4.00; it was quite a feat to remember which staircase and door number to get to the right seat! And interesting to watch the auditorium fill up. I saw N arrive early and get a very good ringside seat; I kept waving from time to time and eventually he saw me, only because of my new bright green jumper, he said. Every place was sold and the ushers had a difficult task squeezing the last few people in. The orchestra and choirs made a dramatic entrance, all in impeccable evening dress with all the girls in strappy little black dresses, unlike many of their Cambridge equivalents who often perform in a variety of shapeless black t-shirts.
The President of the Sorbonne made an encouraging speech; the event was to celebrate 30 years of the choir and orchestra, and he and the conductor were ex-colleagues of N‘s. The performance was very dramatic - the lighting had been sorted out at last, and our seats were lit just for the duration of each chorale. The Evangelist was dramatic - especially describing Peter weeping and Barabbas the murderer - and the arias and choruses beautiful and our chorales suitably full-sounding! There was much applause and much coming in and out of the soloists and conductor; N had a very good view of all of this. Eventually we were able to leave; I said goodbye to my two fellow singers and we shook hands and kissed on both cheeks and said perhaps we would see each other again one day. I managed to find N outside quite easily; he had thought the whole performance was marvellous - especially his colleagues and his view of all of it! And was interested in the programme I had, and the details of the soloists, one of whom was English (from Cambridge University!) and one German.
Instead of going straight back home as I had imagined, (as I knew N had made Spaghetti Bolognese and I had been looking forward to it during the afternoon) he wanted to walk a little in the Marais, near to where we were, so we stopped for a much needed apéritif, and then walked for ages, through very interesting streets, ending up at Châtelet, where we took the RER train home. I would really have enjoyed it all if only my legs hadn’t been so tired from propping myself up on the back of my seat.
Before leaving La Neuve-Lyre last week we arranged for another delivery of heating fuel, as the level had gone down to 50. It was a measure of how far we had come that this now seemed so straightforward and easy, unlike the first time I ordered it from Saint-Denis not really having much idea of what I was doing, and having to make sure we arrived there in time for the delivery from Le Relais de Amis on a bitterly cold December morning. It was brought by the same driver, with the same Johnny Hallyday-iana all over the front of his lorry, but whereas last time he had to fill the tank in the garage perched on top of a cane chair with the seat out, the chair is now nicely re-caned and in position by the phone, and he was able to use a sturdy stepladder which had since arrived from Italy. Progress!
We also received a bill from Monsieur A, only the second one ever, and as expected fairly substantial, including lots of electrical work – which is almost all finished now; only a few outhouses and the garden lamps – and the socle, but, strangely enough, not the chimney sweeping. Perhaps that will be included with the fitting of the new heating system. Before I left I put the cheque in the post, together with a letter we had drafted together, thanking him and saying that we would be away until 10 April, after which we would be ready for the installation of the new heating, which had been scheduled for April. We think it should only take about four days, unlike Lapeyre! and will obviously be less in the house; mainly in the boiler room and veranda and garden.
Just before leaving on Friday morning I took several photos of the new kitchen and bathrooms, which should be ready here in Paris in a day or two. I caught the bus as planned – far fuller than usual! – but found when I got to Evreux station that the train I had intended to catch only ran on Saturdays; I don't think I was the only one to make this mistake. This meant I had an hour and a half to wait instead of half an hour, so went across to the Hôtel de l'Ouest and had a long chicken salad sandwich in the bar. Fortunately I had my book with me: "Adolphe" by Benjamin Constant, which I had studied at university and recently re-found in N's library; written in 1828 and a poignant and agonising account of the breakdown of a love affair. It is so full of anguish that I can only read it in small doses. By the time the train came it was very bright and sunny, and the platform was very crowded – perhaps people in Normandy only come out in the spring?
When I arrived at Saint-Denis N had only just arrived from meeting Clare and Charlotte. They stayed until just after Sunday lunch and it was the first time for a long while that I had been in the company of an almost two-year-old, which I found very entertaining, unlike N who thinks granddaughters are only of any use once they are old enough to play duets. On Saturday afternoon we all went to the local park where we found swings and slides and toys to ride on, and the weather was even warmer, and I thought perhaps I had brought the wrong clothes. As it was I brought a big coat and a short coat and think I will leave the thick winter coat here, and certainly didn't need to bring boots at all. The weather forecast keeps mentioning what a long cold winter this has been; it's hard to believe it is finally over. On Sunday morning however it rained hard while we were going round the market, but we found the Vietnamese artist at his portrait stall and introduced our visitors and I said I would like to come and have a sketch portrait done but he said he was only there on Sundays and next Sunday I have to be at the St John Passion rehearsal by 10.00 in the morning, so can't see how it is possible at the moment. Fortunately the rain had stopped by the time C & C left; N went on the train with them as far as the Gare du Nord; and after I had cleared lunch I collapsed on the sofa with a cup of tea. I found – as N had said – that with digital TV we now receive Tele Monte Carlo and every afternoon there are continuous episodes of Poirot and Morse, so was very happy watching one of the former. (Poirot seems much more logical in French, but Morse not at all. N does not like Morse as he thinks he treats his sergeant so badly.)
On Monday there was much clearing up to be done; wiping of sticky finger marks and retrieving of pieces of Fuzzy Felt from under the sofa, not to mention bed changing and hoovering up remains of food from under both kitchen and dining room tables. N was very busy getting to the end of his history of the Ursuline Convent, so after lunch I went into Paris firstly to FNAC at Châtelet to take several films to be developed and to look for slide mounts for microfilms he had been sent by archives. I then went on to the branch of Leroy Merlin we had found by the Pompidou Centre, and had a very good look round, and bought a square basket to go under my new rectangular wash basin, plus tooth brush holder and soap dispenser to go on top. (No luck however with bathroom bins, toilet roll holders or curtain poles.) I enjoyed watching all that was going on front of the Pompidou Centre, and remembering as always that the first sunny days in Paris mean hordes of people strolling up and down and sitting outside cafés. Perhaps even more so than usual, given the long hard winter. Once back at the Forum des Halles shopping centre at Châtelet I looked briefly in Habitat and in Muji, where I found a very elegant simple rail of hooks for kitchen towels, which sticks on the wall, (no need for the drill!) and then came across a shop I had never been in before called Jacqueline Riu and inspired by the sunshine, bought a lovely dark orange tiered cotton skirt, just the right length.
Tuesday was a day to avoid going into Paris as there was another general strike – the first one last Tuesday had no effect whatsoever in Normandy – so we ended up doing an awful lot of local shopping. In the morning I went to the market, quite unlike Sunday, beautifully dry and sunny, and bought fish, garlic, spices, very cheap brown and gold satin cushion covers for the Italian sofa at LNL, and then on to Carrefour for an extension lead/adaptor so that I can use my Cambridge ironing board in the bathroom at Saint-Denis instead of having to clear the kitchen table. (And listen to the radio at the same time! At LNL I am now using the Italian ironing board, which is very wide and suitable for ironing large sheets and king size quilt covers, and also has a sleeve board and a useful shelf underneath.) The only local evidence of the strike at Saint-Denis was at the nursery school round the corner; a large grève notice on the door and a pizza delivery drawing up outside as I went past.
In the afternoon we planned to go to the Quai des Marques – a local warehouse full of cut price famous brands, just the other side of the river - to replenish N's wardrobe; always an complicated business as he has no idea what size he takes in anything, and has to rely on an ancient Marks & Spencer list in his wallet. In the event he took a wrong turning and we ended up going to Castorama (DIY) and Auchan (supermarket) first. In Castorama we bought wallpaper for the back hall, 20 rolls of a nice vague cream pattern; curtain pole, fittings and rings for the kitchen window in a natural wood that N suggests I paint in the same red as the kitchen stool (but I am not convinced) and two very simple white toilet roll holders for our two very simple new white loos. I found a bathroom bin in Auchan, along with all the usual bulky things we get when we go there; toilet rolls, kitchen rolls, milk and wine. N was very pleased to find larger than usual blank CDs for reproducing his Ursuline history. I remembered that the last time we had been to Auchan it had snowed hard and N had trouble identifying the car when we came out.
We did eventually get to the Quai des Marques, at about five o'clock, and N bought a wonderfully rejuvenating blue denim coloured cotton suit at my suggestion, along with the trousers and shirts he had originally gone for. After having carried all this, plus the heavy stuff from Auchan, from the garage all the way up to the apartment, we sat down for a very welcome aperitif, and then a wonderful dinner – one of my favourites – salmon and asparagus with hollandaise sauce and rosé wine, followed by strawberries.
Thursday 6 April 2006
Also since arriving here I have had my eyebrows shaped, less drastically than last time I'm pleased to say, and have done my original Pilates video once so far, but intend to do it again on Friday. It didn't seem so dull now it was less familiar, but I was certainly stiff about the hips. Once I get back to LNL must establish a proper exercise regime, which should be easier since the DVD player works and now that there won't be workmen arriving every morning at 8.00, well not for very long. I have also got up to date with washing and ironing, and put aside a bag of sheets to wash and dry in the Normandy wind and sunshine, as opposed to an expensive Saint-Denis laundry. I have listened to my St John Passion Chorales several times while reading the German words; despite N saying that it sounds like Christmas whenever I do it.
Yesterday afternoon I went to the material shops in Montmartre, and Sacré Coeur looked beautiful against the sunny blue sky. I spent a long time in a fabric department store called Reine; six floors with different sorts of fabric on each, dressmaking, furnishings and haberdashery. On the ground floor with the dress fabrics there were little shop models in the centre of each display dressed in a variety of exquisitely made tiny garments – dresses, wedding outfits, trousers, ball gowns, suits, each about two feet high. I was gazing at these and thinking how much I would have loved them when I was a teenager when a lady customer behind me said weren't they wonderful, ces petits mannequins? And that she always admired them whenever she came.
I bought white lining for the curtains I am proposing to make out of four pale blue single sheets (part of the Italian inheritance) for the spare blue and yellow bedroom and finally found four blue and gold tie backs to hold them – I have been searching for these for some time and until now whenever I found anything suitable there were never as many as four. I also got some plain red cotton as on examining my tomato material discovered there was even less than I thought, and now plan to put a red border around each curtain. (Perhaps not with a red rail now….) I also got three buttons to replace a broken set on one of N's jackets, which involved taking a tube of buttons to a vendeuse, who wrote me out the inevitable little ticket and put three buttons in a little basket, which I took along to the caisse in order to pay; the princely sum of 1 euro 80.
A new project: about fifteen years ago N published a dictionary of useful terms for English speakers buying property in France, and when we began searching for The House in Normandy I even started to make a list of important omissions. We also began thinking that with the rise of British TV programmes on buying French property it should perhaps be re-issued, or at least brought to the attention of the relevant TV producers. Last week N heard from a new editor who wants to bring out another edition, and as it was originally compiled on some long dead computer system, the first thing to be done (by me!) is the re-typing of the existing text in Word on the computer at LNL.
Friday 7 April 2006
Yesterday I received an e-mail from the organisers of the St John Passion with a last minute change of venue for the Saturday rehearsals - probably due to the Sorbonne being “blocked” by striking students - from a place I didn't know some way away to the Salle Gaveau. I have been there a couple of times to see N play with the RATP orchestra, and in addition to being only about 20 minutes down our metro line, it is a beautiful hall with Proustian connections.
I went into Paris to collect our photos from FNAC in the afternoon; lots of the house and garden at LNL and I am especially pleased with the pictures of the new kitchen. I looked at shops in the Forum des Halles again, and went as far as BHV and bought several bits and pieces for the new kitchen. It is such a pleasure to be out in the Paris streets in the sunshine! In the evening I went to the local chorale; the first time since before Christmas, as since the week when the chef was ill, I have only been in Saint-Denis during the February holidays, or if on a Thursday, when something else was happening. I was especially pleased as having not sung for so long, I felt ill prepared for the weekend.
They seemed pleased to see me, although there were not that many of them there, and several well known faces were missing. We started with voice exercises as usual, which did me good, and then went on to a song we had been learning when I was last with them, and which they didn't seem to have worked at much since. They had given a concert at Stains – the one which was postponed because of the riots in November – wearing red, I was shown the photos! The next concert will be in Saint-Denis on 25 June, with a chamber orchestra; we are due in Cambridge just before that, so don't know if I will be back in time. We spent the bulk of the rehearsal learning a Credo by Vivaldi; very simple even for my basic sight-reading skills, and very beautiful. For the next two weeks there are Easter holidays, and it starts again on Thursday 27.
This afternoon we have done yet more shopping; at a garden centre called Truffaut where most of what N bought was for the window boxes and little garden here in Saint-Denis. He has done a lot of work on it this week and it's looking very good. We also went to Leroy Merlin for La Neuve-Lyre shopping and got curtain poles and related accessories for the spare bedroom - I really think these are the last! – more white paint, red picture frames for the kitchen, kitchen roll holder, wood to border the socle under the shower and glue to stick it, and wood to repair the bottom panels of the French windows in our bedroom.
Wednesday 12 April 2006
The whole of last weekend was taken up with the Saint John Passion – an amazing experience. The Saturday afternoon rehearsal at the Salle Gaveau was due to start at 3.00; I got there very early and enjoyed watching the others arrive. The members of the « choir for a day » were much like singers in Cambridge, lots of women in their fifties and sixties - only more chic and bien coiffée - and fewer men. As we all had name badges I enjoyed seeing what everyone was called; many of the women seemed to be Marie-Something. We all sat in the stalls; the orchestra and soloists were on the stage - the orchestra with their backs to us - and the Sorbonne choirs, two or three of them I think, were in the galleries. The first event was the news that the original Evangelist was ill and had been replaced at the last moment by an exuberant young Norwegian.
The singing went well - much more easy then when practising at home with N and his viola, more slowly for a start, and surrounded by excellent singers. I sat next to two sixty-something sisters, one of whom had taught English, who were very friendly. There was a brief supper break before the evening rehearsal, during which I made a quick dash to a brasserie I had seen on the way in, on the opposite corner. This was a wise move, as it filled up quickly with choir and orchestra, and there was not room for all, even conductor and soloists who wandered in late. I had a large salad and a glass of red wine and watched everybody else in between reading another novella by Benjamin Constant called Le Cahier Rouge, in the same volume as Adolphe, and not nearly so melodramatic. I felt it would make an excellent film. (The story, not the restaurant…)
The evening rehearsal was very enjoyable; the soloists were excellent and I became so involved with the German recitative and arias that it was a shock each time when the rehearsal picked up again in French. I remembered that I liked the German version because the disciples are referred to as « Jünge » (lads) and I like the part where Pilate says « Was ich geschrieben habe, das ich habe geschrieben. » We finished earlier than the scheduled time of 10.00; our conductor said he was thinking of those of us who lived out in the suburbs who would have an early start the next day. I realised this included me! By the time I had taken the metro home, and gone to bed it was time to get up again and leave at 8.45 the next morning; a bit like commuting.
The venue for Sunday’s rehearsal and performance was the Cirque d’Hiver Bouglione, a place I had never heard of let alone visited, in the 11th arondissement which I don’t know at all. I discovered during the course of the day that it had been built as a permanent winter circus about 150 years ago, but that in 1934 had been bought by the Bouglione family, who had owned it ever since. Inside it was full of faded glory, painted red and gold everywhere, with old posters of lion tamers and human canon balls and trapeze artists, and there were wonderful indoor stables with red and gold painted stalls, but no longer sign of any horses. I can’t imagine how animals lived or came in and out in the centre of a city.
The rehearsal was due to start at 10.00 in the morning, but it was about 11.40 before we actually started singing. Those of us who arrived early went in by the stage door as directed, and made our way through a smaller theatre to the main arena and gazed in amazement; a woman next to me said she had not been there for forty years, when she used to be taken every year for a Christmas treat by her father’s work. We were all ushered out again while a lighting engineer was hoisted up onto a rope, and then spent a long time hanging around in the bar, holding onto coats and bags, (the lucky ones found seats) and doing some warm-up breathing and singing exercises, which made me think of the exercises before a Fun Run.
Eventually we got into our seats in the auditorium, shaped rather like a mini Albert Hall, with the orchestra and soloists in the centre, the Sorbonne choirs immediately behind and the « choir for a day » high up around half of the sharply tiered seating; the remaining half was reserved for the audience. Both I and my two companions - the sisters I had found again - thought we had sung far better on the Saturday; it was very difficult to hear anyone else around us, and also difficult to see our music as the lighting was not good. There was also the problem of standing and sitting; we had tip-up seats which made quite a noise when multiplied by 600, so were asked to sit on the top edge of the seats in the upright position. This was all right for a while, but then became rather uncomfortable.
However it was fascinating to see the orchestra down in the arena, and although the soloists now had their backs to us, it was just as dramatic. There was a longish break before the afternoon session, so I settled down to eat my (supermarket) sandwich in the bar, and was joined by my two companions with their home-made picnic, and they kindly bought me coffee afterwards. We agreed that fresh air and a stretch of the legs was needed, and I set off round the block; down the Boulevard Voltaire to the Place de la République, still full of police buses, and back up to the little street where the stage door was.
The performance was due to start at 4.30 and we were to take our seats between 3.30 and 4.00; it was quite a feat to remember which staircase and door number to get to the right seat! And interesting to watch the auditorium fill up. I saw N arrive early and get a very good ringside seat; I kept waving from time to time and eventually he saw me, only because of my new bright green jumper, he said. Every place was sold and the ushers had a difficult task squeezing the last few people in. The orchestra and choirs made a dramatic entrance, all in impeccable evening dress with all the girls in strappy little black dresses, unlike many of their Cambridge equivalents who often perform in a variety of shapeless black t-shirts.
The President of the Sorbonne made an encouraging speech; the event was to celebrate 30 years of the choir and orchestra, and he and the conductor were ex-colleagues of N‘s. The performance was very dramatic - the lighting had been sorted out at last, and our seats were lit just for the duration of each chorale. The Evangelist was dramatic - especially describing Peter weeping and Barabbas the murderer - and the arias and choruses beautiful and our chorales suitably full-sounding! There was much applause and much coming in and out of the soloists and conductor; N had a very good view of all of this. Eventually we were able to leave; I said goodbye to my two fellow singers and we shook hands and kissed on both cheeks and said perhaps we would see each other again one day. I managed to find N outside quite easily; he had thought the whole performance was marvellous - especially his colleagues and his view of all of it! And was interested in the programme I had, and the details of the soloists, one of whom was English (from Cambridge University!) and one German.
Instead of going straight back home as I had imagined, (as I knew N had made Spaghetti Bolognese and I had been looking forward to it during the afternoon) he wanted to walk a little in the Marais, near to where we were, so we stopped for a much needed apéritif, and then walked for ages, through very interesting streets, ending up at Châtelet, where we took the RER train home. I would really have enjoyed it all if only my legs hadn’t been so tired from propping myself up on the back of my seat.
# posted by Chez Katherine @ 9:09 AM 
