I lost pretty much all of Saturday to being in Bristol for the second Missa Solemnis. I didn't explore the city centre as much as I would have liked because I was on my own and also it was just frelling freezing. My quest for lunch took me up and down the road and back to a newsagent, where I bought a baguette. All of the eateries around where we were comprised of proper, sit-down restaurants, and I didn't want to look like a complete Billie No-Mates.
The outside of Colston Hall, where we were performing, was quite pretty, and also the green room and underground passages were delightfully grim and Victorian (and smelled of soap), but the interior of the concert hall itself was just UGLY, dude. It looked as though it was last refurbished in the 70s and never again since; the wood cladding behind the choir stalls was splitting and coming away from the wall in places, the white plaster on the balconies was grubby, and at the very back the walls were covered in pegboard, of all things. Delightful. I think the acoustics were okay but as I was at the back it was hard to tell...
As for the concert itself, it seemed to go okay; at the very least, the audience were very appreciative. Our tenor soloist went wrong again, though in a different place to last time, which was amusing if only because Adrian (Partington, of Bristol Choral Society, not our Adrian Lucas) gave us a comedic eye roll before bringing the basses in. :) Also the soprano soloist, a different one from in Birmingham, seemed to chicken out on most of her high notes.
I'm glad I got the coach, though. Last time Paul and I went to Bristol (for Alison's birthday whilst she was still there) it cost us about £30 each, whereas for the coach it was £10 a head. I wish they'd put a coach on more often, though; Tewkesbury is a bit of a nightmare at the best of times. I think we're doing our Dream of Gerontius concert at Worcester Cathedral, but at least that's on the Hall Green line and hopefully not too difficult to get back from, though it does depend on the trains still running at that time of night. Still, slightly more accessible than most.
Despite promising to come and meet me in Birmingham when the coach got back, Paul rang me back after I'd texted him saying he didn't want to leave the house because it was cold and I'd woken him up. Oh, woe is Paul, etc. That annoyed me more than it probably should have done. I attribute the low mood of late to being utterly bloody exhausted, and must apologise for the spamination on Friday, which I think was probably just a distraction technique... Anyway, as a result, I listened to That Song from Mamma Mia again (God alone knows why I decided to put it on my MP3-player...) and almost had a meltdown on the coach home. Thankfully I was wearing a top with a hood and was able to hide my face, though I was sitting on my lonesome anyway so nobody probably noticed. It was at least vaguely cathartic, but made me wish I'd taken a pen and paper with me.
I no longer take a pen and pad with me on day trips as a default, because the last times I've done this, I've not used them. Bloody typical that the one time I don't bother, I need them. I took the camera with me but had no chance to take photographs; the most picturesque thing was on the way there - Lightwoods Park in Bearwood, with the trees disappearing through the fog. Next foggy day I'm going to Highbury Park to take photos...
Anyway, I got home just after midnight (if you walk fast you can get from Symphony Hall to Moor Street in 20 minutes flat), having managed to get the 11.50 bus, and went straight to bed after some bread and butter.
Sunday was thankfully a whole lot of nothing. I've finally finished season 3 of X-Files (sweeterthing is right about "Jose Chung's From Outer Space" - it's utterly brilliant, though I have no idea what the resolution of the case was meant to be...) and will make a start on season 4 tonight. Yay, shippiness. I can remember this season being the one when I was well and truly buried in the obsession and the shipping, so certain episodes stick out in my memory from it: "Unruhe", "The Field Where I Died", "Paper Hearts" and, of course, the inimitable "Small Potatoes" - I remember reading up on spoilers for that one in the early days of my uncle having dial-up and being VERY excited by the plot synopsis. Ah, those innocent days when I didn't fear spoilers. :D
Paul kicked my arse at Scrabble horribly in the evening (literally, he ended up over 150 points ahead of me within two moves) and that made me a bit disinclined to make an effort afterwards. I woke up at 4.00am and couldn't get back to sleep for another hour, so was absolutely exhausted this morning. Meh. Coffee seems to have helped marginally. I think it's definitely time to break out the winter coats, though...
Right. Now is when it starts to get busy. Here is an at-a-glance look at my December...
Wednesday 3rd - shopping day (and a lie in, hurrah)
Friday 5th - first Messiah concert (must book Paul's ticket for this one).
Saturday 6th - Jen and Dave coming over for dinner. Also tree is going up in the afternoon, because I want to get it over with.
Tuesday 9th - second Messiah concert (I might not do this one because it was knackering last time...)
Saturday 13th - possibly meeting jackiesjottings in Birmingham after she's investigated the German Market. (I'm going to take her to interesting shops in Moseley and Kings Heath...)
Sunday 21st - Christmas concert (yay!)
Wednesday 24th - I'm at work until 1.00pm (or possibly later as we're meant to be having a buffet at work) and then need to cram in seeing people at the pub, I presume, and seeing family on the evening.
29th to 31st - at work
1st January - Paul's birthday.
2nd to 9th January - off work. Hurrah.
Somewhere in between all of that I need to wrap presents and get stuff in the post, as well as write cards. But yeah, I hate this particular choir season because it's insanely busy. (And having TWO Missa Solemnis concerts didn't really help, either.) Tonight I have to book Paul and his mum's tickets for the Christmas concert before it sells out.
BUSY. I would like the television to stop telling me how few days there are left until Christmas, plz.