The House Husband

I just had a look at my post for one year ago, which I finished with “I hope it was worth it!” in connection with our Wednesday lunch trip to Harlow for Mirinda’s interview. It certainly was worth it.

The interview, of course, went very well and Mirinda was eventually offered the job, which she took. Now she often catches the train out to Harlow without any sign of smoke or fire. And it was a year ago tomorrow. How time flies! A lot has happened in the last 12 months.

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Today, of course, being a Wednesday I went into London to have lunch with Mirinda…except she’s still in Australia so I went to the flat instead to finish off the job I started last week.

The new bookcase sits against a small piece of wall which, while being the exact size of the bookcase, has the hub plugged into it. Because the phone point is next to it, there’s not a lot of room for movement…actually there’s none…so it was a case of cutting a sizeable rectangular hole in the back of the bookcase, to accommodate the rather massive plug.

In order to cut the hole, I had to take some tools with me from home, including a cordless drill, which made my backpack rather heavy. Even so, I had to stop off and buy a few bits and pieces at Robert Dyas before reaching the flat.

Following this shopping diversion, Mirinda now has a toolbox at the flat. This will sit under the sink and, hopefully, save me having to lug stuff back and forth every time I want to make any simple adjustments. Because I have managed to accumulate doubles of virtually every tool I own, this isn’t really a problem.

I didn’t mention last week’s failed wheel experiment, simply because I thought I’d be able to fix it this week. Sadly, this was not the case and the coffee table remains motionless. It’s back to the drawing board; there’s nothing else I can do. Though, in thinking about it, I may have the answer…

Interestingly, I didn’t take a pencil with me. I’m not certain why, but I always think there’ll be a pencil somewhere. I’m having to change the way I view the world of lead and wood based drawing products. Particularly when it comes to the flat.

In a coffee cup on the dining table there are 20 pens of various ink thickness and colour. On the dining table itself, five pens lay scattered about. And that is it. No pencils, black or otherwise. I blame no-one but myself.

I used a pen, which worked almost as well, marked out the hole then drilled it out. All in all, it took about an hour, which included cleaning the carpet afterwards. Job done! I’m quite happy with the result and just hope Mirinda is as well. I’ll know soon enough…next Monday I expect.

Speaking of Mirinda…I waited around for her to ring so I could say good night then I headed back home.

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Why are the baristas in Costa at Waterloo so miserable? Ignoring the obvious fact that they work at Costa at Waterloo, I mean. Apart from their appalling coffee delivery system that, rather than speed up the process actually requires you to wait three times as long as you would in Starbucks, one big reason I don’t buy Costa coffee is because, most of the time, they are really sullen.

None of the cheery Starbucks greetings or the Nero smiles, Costa baristas are taught to be miserable. Maybe as a reflection of their clientele…I don’t know. I avoid them. Pure and simple. I’m sure it doesn’t bother them (clearly other people are more than happy with bad service and miserable faces) and it sure as hell doesn’t bother me. Sometimes, however, it is unavoidable.

Today, for instance. The guy at the Nero cart was doing something peculiar to a bit of machinery for a customer who looked like she’d already been there an hour. I waited for a bit before deciding to go elsewhere. This decision was based on my wanting to catch the next train rather than any undue impatience, I should add.

Starbucks have the raw deal at Waterloo. They are hidden downstairs and almost outside, crammed in with McDonalds. Costa, on the other hand, are slap dab in the middle of the concourse. Therefore, Sadly, Costa was my only option. And, as usual, I had to wait in line as their inefficiency dictated and the guy who served me, as well as his mate who made my coffee, were miserable as sin.

I don’t want people to think I’m just having moan (though, to be honest, I am) because I really, really want to know what kind of training (if any) Costa give their staff and why is it so different to Starbucks or Nero?

Something else, which I’ll clearly not get an answer to, is why people put up with it? I can understand if Costa is the only option but most of the time, it isn’t. If it’s the taste of the coffee then I tend to think that Nero tastes better – Costa always tastes a bit too nutty to me. Perhaps it’s just habit. Perhaps it’s just me. I’m pretty sure Mirinda would say it’s just me.

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It was a very hot 30° today with scattered clouds, threatening to become threatening clouds. The only reason I’ve written that is because tomorrow it’s supposed to be 20°. I love the English summer. Even when it’s dull, it’s not dull.

Given that we are likely to have rain and a drop in temperature, I’m not sure what that will mean for the gladiolus. I don’t think it looks weird, either!

Gladiolus - day three

Last night I went into Woking to meet Tom. Given the fact that I unexpectedly ran into him on Wednesday night, it doesn’t surprise me that I ran into Lara on the way to the theatre. Actually, this shouldn’t be so surprising, I walked right by where she works and it was just after 6pm.

I arrived at the Wheatsheaf and we had a pint and a half and a jolly good old chat for an hour then walked over to the theatre. Tom was going home so I bade him farewell and made my way into the stalls.

Firstly, the house was remarkably full. I know Glyndbourne is very highly regarded and last year there was a pretty healthy audience, but I wouldn’t have thought this opera would have attracted many. But, hey, what do I know. Maybe Monteverdi’s The Coronation of Poppea is an opera fan’s favourite. The stalls were full and there were people in the circle above.

Secondly, perhaps because of the size of the audience but more likely because of the heating, it was very warm. This made it increasingly difficult to stay awake. This is not a comment on the production!

The opera was written in 1643 and was (not quite) the first to be written about a real historical event. It concerns Nero’s decision to divorce his wife, Ottavia and marry, instead, his lover Poppea. It is a wonderful celebration of the best in Roman debauch. It also features the first nude scene I’ve ever encountered in an opera.

The male solo parts were originally written for castrata so all but one were sung by women, men not likely to be able to hit the high notes while in possession of their testicles. In saying that, the guy playing Ottone (Christopher Ainslie) managed to do it, though his voice wasn’t that strong. Anyway, what this meant last night was there was an awful lot of unintentional girl-on-girl action! Still, I digress.

After a prologue featuring a bet between a few gods, we are straight into Poppea’s bedroom. Nero is there as well and they’ve clearly just had a good time. She doesn’t want him to go; he doesn’t want to go. After some singing and groping, and almost ending up back on the bed, Nero leaves.

It was at about this time that a mobile phone went off. Very loud. Right next to me. As the man scrambled to get it out of his pocket, the volume increased enough to drown out the singing. Very annoying. Apparently it was a delivery company telling him when his bookshelves were due to be delivered. He told most of us this at the interval.

Like jamming devices, I think there should be activation devices which make all mobile phones within range ring at the same time. These should be activated just before the show starts. It would solve the problem. I know exactly what Karen is thinking if she’s reading this and I don’t think we should go into that.

Act 1 dragged a bit. There was a lot of relationship stuff and not a lot (read none) of action. All necessary, of course but it made it hard to stay awake. Actually, I wasn’t very successful and managed to doze a few times.

Acts 2 & 3, however, were much better. While not exactly full of action, there was a lot of tension. Particularly noticeable was the scene where Nero drowns a guy in a bath. Nero (played superbly by Lucia Cirillo) was menacing and evil. He reminded me of a small mafia boss who enjoyed his power so much that he actively engaged in murder because he could. Ms Cirillo was wonderful to watch, her voice strong and controlled. If for nothing else, the show was worth seeing for her.

My favourite scene, however, was Drusilla in the bath. A bath on wheels had been wheeled on for the murder scene and remained for her to sink into (surrounded by maids in order to protect her privacy). A long line of servants then filed onto the stage holding trays with something strange wobbling on them. They would vanish into the midst of the maids then reappear without the wobbly stuff, the trays now empty. When the lights came up and the maids dispersed, Drusilla was revealed, lying back in the bath, her body covered in foam. For that was what was on the trays.

Drusilla (the gorgeous Manuela Bisceglie) spent most of the scene in the bath until the man she loved, Ottone, appeared to tell her he had to go and kill Poppea on the orders of Ottavia. She grabbed a towel and slipped out of the bath in that clever way woman can, showing nothing. The rest of the scene was spent in the towel her legs glistening with bath water. And she wasn’t faking it either. At one point she flashes Ottone by holding the towel open. While we could only see her from the side, she was definitely naked.

Everything ends happily for some and pretty bad for others and the opera finishes with a wonderful duet between Nero and Poppea. The sound of their voices stayed in my head all the way home. I’ve found a version on Youtube and have embedded it below. No real pictures but the sound is lovely.

Which leads me to say that there were no real tunes in Poppea. I know it’s an opera and not a musical (it would make a fantastic musical though – someone should tell Sondheim) but most operas have a memorable song or two. Poppea has none. This is not necessarily a bad thing as it makes it all a bit more realistic even while being just a bunch of people warbling in Italian to each other rather than talking.

Suffice to say that I enjoyed it. Not as much as last year but still quite a lot. Not enough tragedy, I guess.

If you’d like to know more about the opera, there’s a wiki page here.

I had an email back from Nero today. This is it:

Hello Gary

Justina Virdee
Head of Customer Services
Caffe Nero Group Ltd

Of course, I’ll not be taking her up on the vouchers. As I said in my email, it’s not what I want. It’s nice to know they seem to take bad service so seriously though.

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Today I started my dissertation, my proposal having been approved. It’s now a long, hard slog towards September. For a break I mowed the lawn and did some gardening. Also the poodles had a haircut and look and smell lovely now.

Tonight I am going to blog about three news stories I spotted in the Metro, the free London paper. Actually, it used to be the only free London paper but now there seems to be a lot more. Not that that matters. The Metro is available everywhere in the capital and is handy to read on the bus or to do the sudoku when lectures get dull.

Well, I was reading it on the number 4 bus this morning on a journey that took twice as long as it should have. There is repair work going on all over Waterloo Bridge (has been since last November and is set to continue till December this year!) and it’s reduced to two lanes – that’s one in either direction. Sometimes they also close the tunnel which goes from the end of Waterloo Bridge, under The Strand, which makes the first part of journey a commuting hell. But I don’t want to blog about that!

So…I was reading the Metro and three stories struck me. I decided then that I should blog about them.

Swallows
I heard about this on the radio, almost a month ago, before reading it in the paper this morning. A flock of 76 swallows flew straight into the ground in Somerset. They tried to fly through someone’s concrete driveway. Apparently it was an awful sight. I heard a vet interviewed who was upset at being so powerless. He couldn’t understand what had happened or why. A witness described it as if they were just flying through the air.

Swallows fly in big swarms and make all sorts of beautiful shapes in the sky around dusk. Scientists believe they do this to appear a much bigger threat when they are threatened by predators. Generally they will fly into reed beds to escape. Apparently the driveway is the same colour as a reed bed, a vet said.

Granny
I hate it when a sensationalist newspaper prints a story that says one thing but decides a headline saying the opposite is more appropriate. This is one of the (many) reasons I refuse to read the Daily Mail or the Express! It doesn’t usually happen in the Metro but today it did.

The headline went something like “Granny fined and tagged for selling goldfish!” In fact, if you go to Google and put in ‘granny goldfish’, you’ll find this story everywhere doing exactly the same thing as the irresponsible journalist did in the Metro.

The story goes that this granny (I think she was 77) worked in her daughter’s pet shop. She sold a child a goldfish. This is against the law. She was fined £1000 and electronically tagged. She had a curfew imposed on her, meaning she wouldn’t be able to babysit her grandchild. The family called it legal lunacy and this is how the newspapers have pushed the story. It’s hard not agree, and most people would be so incensed by this, I doubt they’d read the final paragraphs.

It is in the final paragraphs that we discover how the family has been warned previously about animal cruelty, particularly about a cockatiel in the shop window, and have been told by the RSPCA they need to smarten themselves up or be closed down. On other ocassions they have been caught selling animals to children without an accompanying adult. The final sentence in the Metro had a quote from an RSPCA officer saying “We do not take animal cruelty lightly!” Damn right, too.

Hole in the ground
This is a rather sad story. Nero had a palace in Rome. It was called the Golden Palace (Domus Aurea) and was amazingly amazing. It sat on top of the Palatine Hill, overlooking the Forum and the Colosseum and the Circus Maximus. It had a rotating dining room which moved by way of water courses and large rock spheres. It was adorned with magnificent murals and mosaics.

Within a decade of Nero’s death (AD68) the place had been stripped of most of its building materials, filled in and built over. They weren’t too keen on Nero. It was he who fiddled as Rome burned. After the fire, he built himself the palace and taxed Rome mercilously to pay for it. Not popular. Anyway, the palace remained buried for ages and then, in the 15th century, it was rediscovered after a chap fell into a hole.

It’s been raining in Rome recently and quite heavily it seems. Well, it has weakened the roof of the palace, which was bearing a lot of weight – two metres of soil – and it all collapsed. Into the vaulted ceilings. Horror! Archaeologists are frantic, the mayor of Rome is beside himself. And, last but not least, Dawn and I walked on top of the very spot when we visited Rome in 2008. Sad face.