Lest we forget�
9:21 p.m.
We were in Toronto for the world premiere of my husband�s most recent orchestral composition, a piece that was inspired by Jimi Hendrix�s 60s protest song Machine Gun and in which he incorporates blues motives and the sounds of war and carnage. It followed Beethoven�s fourth symphony, and was followed, after the intermission, by Vaughan WiIIiams� D0na N0bis Pacem. There were two performances: Wednesday night and Thursday afternoon, both were remarkably well received, even by the blue hairs in the audience who are known for sitting on their hands, and both made me appreciate the Vaughan WiIIiams even more than I already do, considering I have sung the piece several times as a chorister and love it. During intermission of the second performance we chanced upon a veteran sitting at a table, finishing his glass of white wine. He told my husband, �I liked your piece, but the war was louder.� He must have been in his eighties and was wearing his medals. Hubby toasted him, saying, �Thank you for what you did for us.� All through the second half of the programme, especially in the Dirge for two dead veterans I had a lump in my throat.
So, the piece was a success. The orchestra members loved it, the conductor raved over it, even the general manager (the most important person in fact) thought it was awesome. The CBC recorded it and I will tell you when it is to be broadcast. This is good, very good. We also had a very nice time in the big city. Our trip in was an adventure, braving the buffetting of strong winds. We arrived in Clarendon Station where Oskar was without electricity and thinking we were arriving the following weekend. We left the archtop with him so he could move the tone knob from where Hubby keeps hitting it with his hand, as well as the little Spanish parlour guitar that you can see light through for an estimate on whether or not it was worth getting it repaired. We arrived at my mom�s just in time for supper, then Hubby ran off to a rehearsal, where he said they read through the piece almost perfectly. What an orchestra.
The next morning I took my mom shopping, and that afternoon we went to a rehearsal where they cleaned up some problems. We didn�t need to come back that evening, so we had dinner at a nice Italian restaurant across the street from the hall, then went to a very strange concert indeed at a church which houses the Music Gallery. We were expecting a blues concert, considering the name of the featured act. Boy, were we ever wrong. It was noise, noise, noise. Luckily, I carry earplugs in my purse. Hubby was not so fortunate. We left soon after they started.
The next morning was the dress rehearsal, which I videoed from the mezzanine, after which we met an old friend and incredible harpist for lunch, caught up with her, then headed back to my mom�s where we showered and got gussied up so we could meet my in-laws who were coming in for the evening concert. We had dinner with them, and afterwards went out with the conductor, the soprano soloist, conductor of the choir, and a few other people for a post-concert winding down.
Thursday morning I went over to the public library to use the computer to check my email (didn�t get to read diaries, unfortunately). My sister-in-law and her husband arrived noonish, and after a light lunch we all took the subway, my mom too, to hear the second concert, after which we adjourned to the pub across the street where we had a fine dinner. After taking my mom home we met up with tcklyrpharsn and her sweetie at a place called the Lula Lounge where we heard a concert promoting a record launch. Interesting. Sort of.
Today we left Toronto at about 10 a.m., arrived at Oskar�s where we picked up the repaired archtop and left the parlour guitar for repairs, and arrived home about 7:40 p.m. Not bad. The weather was good, anyway. Now I�m a little inebriated, having finished the last vodka cooler in the fridge. I�m exhausted too, looking forward to sleeping in my own bed.
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