A Night At The Opera

La Traviata is usually translated as The Fallen Woman, but could also mean The Woman Led Astray, or even Her From Across The Road! (Tra = across, via = road, -ta = feminine ending.) Or perhaps A Girl Falls Beyond...

Opera On Location performed a modernised version of La Traviata in English in the Sheffield branch of Waterstones bookshop in Orchard Square last night. Alfredo, played by Gareth Lloyd, is an aspiring author. Violetta, played by Rachel Abbott, is a call-girl with HIV+ who is employed to cosplay a character from his latest book, a science fiction work whose launch they are attending. They fall in love.

After they have moved in together, Alfredo learns that Violetta has sold her collection of Marvel comics in order to support the two of them while he finishes his next novel, as she has given up her previous ways. But Alfredo's agent Germont, American baritone Greg Hoyt, points out to Violetta the morality clause in Alfredo's contract. Unless they part, his books cannot be published. Reluctantly, she dumps Alfredo.

Act 2 opens with a Games Night. Instead of gambling at cards, Alfredo, who was invited by mistake, beats them all at Super Mario. He confronts Violetta, raking up her sordid past and throwing his winnings at her. He leaves in disgrace, having insulted Violetta and basically made a right prat of himself.

Later, Germont has texted Alfredo from the successful American book tour to explain why Violetta left him. All is forgiven, but it's all too late. Violetta dies in her lover's arms. Sorry, was that a spoiler? You knew it was a tragedy, right?

Opera On Location's production is firmly set in the present, except Alfredo uses a typewriter!  Mobile phones are used, an idea which may have been inspired by Sheffield City Opera's ground-breaking production of Donna And Her Mobile! Rachel Abbott starred in Donna, as well as in Women of Steel, another SCO first! And one of Gareth's first roles was with Sheffield City Opera!

Wonderful singing and (mainly) acting. I'll certainly look out for Opera On Location's next production.

Tiger on the loose!*

A former Lady Mayoress of Sheffield sent me a text message the other day. It showed a poster advertising a performance at the Sheffield Empire on Monday September 19th, 1938. George Formby was top of the bill. See how many other performers you recognise.

The Sheffield Empire Palace, from a postcard

I remember the Empire. We all knew it as the Empire, Union Street, although the entrance was on Charles Street. My mother took me to what must have been one of the last shows before it closed. I think it was Pinocchio. All I remember was that my 8 year old self had difficulty seeing over the high balcony rail, and I had to either stand or peer under the railing. I may have had a choc-ice during the interval.

Originally called the Empire Palace, it was designed by the famous theatre architect Frank Matcham, who also designed the London Palladium, Hackney Empire, and Buxton Opera House. According to Alan Bennett there was a Matcham theatre in every corner of the UK. It opened on November 4th 1895, closed in 1959 and was demolished the following year.

The Sheffield Empire was one of the largest theatres in the Moss Empire chain, bigger than the Birmingham Empire, with seating for 2,500. Some sources claim there were seats for 3,000 with room for a further 1,000 standing! Fire regulations, anyone?

Here is a link to a terrifying incident which took place in 1933.

*(The tiger story is in the link. I put it here to grab your attention.)

Strange creatures

Last week I was mainly cat-sitting. My friends and partners-in-folk-music Phoebe and Sylvia were on holiday in the Lakes, leaving me to look after their cats, Baxter and Emma, and Sam and Ombra. While driving to Sylvia's I noticed something green and wiggly-looking on the road. After seeing to Sam and Ombra, who showed me no gratitude, I returned to where I had seen it. Despite the constant stream of vehicles which had run over it, it appeared unharmed. I found a place to park and, during a lull in the traffic, dashed into the road and rescued it.

Then on to Phoebe's via one of my favourite bird watching spots. Unusually, there were a few vehicles in the lay-by. I parked behind a trailer and got out the binoculars. Coot. Coot. Coot. Lots of coots. Everywhere I looked was a small black water-bird with a white forehead. Quack. Mallard. Tufted Duck. I walked around the trailer and stood next to a red car with its door open. I noticed a heron, and two cormorants. The occupant of the red car was using binoculars too.

“There's a marsh harrier over there,” he said.

I swung my binoculars in the direction he indicated, just catching sight of the huge dark brown bird, bigger than a buzzard, with broader, straighter wings, as it swooped low over the reed-bed.

“Wow!” I said, “that's a first for me.”

“A first for me here,” said the man.

A flash of pure white plumage caught my attention and I was able to return the favour.

“There’s a Little Egret over there on that stump.”

“It’s all happening today,” he said.

I advertised the snake on the Rotherham Lost and Found Facebook page. Nobody claimed it, so Jake the Fake Snake stays with me.

Alan Smith R.I.P.

Yesterday I went to a funeral. Not an unusual thing to do when you get to my age. But the deceased was a very unusual man. More unusual than we knew.

As a certified old codger, I am a member of a U3A choir called Vintage Voices. Alan played the piano for us for many years. His talent had been spotted whilst at school in Northampton, and he had received lessons, qualifying to Grade 8. Moving to Sheffield he soon discovered the financial value of playing the piano in clubs, but as a devout Baptist, he also played the organ in chapels around the city. On one occasion a newly-appointed minister gave him his list of hymns for the forthcoming service. Alan very quickly showed him who was in charge. "These won't do at all," he said. "They always like to end with a good rousing hymn here at Cemetery Road Baptists!"

With typical generosity he had contributed to the cost of upgrading Cemetery Road Baptist Church's organ, and had accommodated the Cornish organ repairer in his own home during the process. The upgrade included the addition of a Trombone stop, which added considerably to the power of the instrument!

Although he preferred to play the organ behind a curtain, he would often pull it aside to berate the
congregation if he felt their singing lacked enthusiasm. "What do you think you are here for? Look at the words! You're supposed to be praising God!"

Alan accompanied Vintage Voices at rehearsals and performances for many years, but his deafness gradually became more noticeable, and the effects of Alzheimer's more apparent. One by one the chapels and churches let him know that it was time for him to retire. When we at Vintage Voices decided to let him go, he did not take it well. We were all he had left, he told us angrily.

He had no family in Sheffield to look after him, and he eventually went to stay in the Seven Hills nursing home in Nether Edge. In May, Vintage Voices went there to sing for the patients. Alan appeared to sleep through the first part of our performance, but he happily accepted our invitation to accompany us on the home's keyboard.

We attended his funeral as a choir. We sang two songs that Alan had loved to play: Show Me The Way To Go Home, and Just A Song At Twilight. As we looked at the photographs in the order of service, there was one that puzzled us. It appeared to show two ladies, one seated at an upright piano, the other standing.

The puzzle was soon resolved. Alan had been part of a Hinge and Bracket tribute act. He's the one seated!

R.I.P. Alan.

It’s me back, doctor.

An early start to catch the 7:19 No 6 bus for my 8 am appointment at the Royal Hallamshire Hospital. Pouring rain so I wore my big coat. Bought a Guardian at WH Smith’s in the foyer and up to Floor C in the lift. I signed in via the touch screen and was seen at 8 am on the dot. The nurse asked me for the form I’d filled in, then he asked me the questions anyway: did I have a pacemaker, any metalwork, shrapnel, any allergies. After stripping down to my underwear in the small locker room, I put on a hospital gown. The nurse came in, took one look at my underpants and told me to put on another gown to cover my front.

This time, as the MRI was for my lumbar spine, I was given headphones and no crash helmet with fitted periscope and went in feet first. Before the machine started I felt cool air round my knees. I’d taken my glasses off so the only metal on my person was the two silver rings I wear, one on the ring finger of each hand. Just before the noise started I felt a strange sensation around these rings, as if they were being pulled off. As the MRI machine contains a powerful magnet, perhaps these rings are not pure silver!  Same horrible rhythms as before, but not quite as bad as my head remained outside the machine. DERDERDERDERDERDERDER with a faint puppy-dog whine in the background. I stared at the ventilation grille in the ceiling until it was over.

At 8:27 I was fully dressed and standing in the corridor checking the time. Time for a coffee! Lift down to Floor B and the coffee shop. Nearly an hour to spare to do the Guardian cryptic crossword, until it was time to take the lift up to Floor M for my follow-up appointment with the TIA team. General discussion with Clare, the nurse, was encouraging, but no conclusion reached as the Consultant won’t be back from her holiday until 27th September!

More heavy rain as I set out on the Parkway. The sky over Canklow Woods was a weird shade of purple. When the sun came out each car in front trailed a spray rainbow.