As you may well have gathered, I am a proud Capetonian of note, revelling in all the natural beauty and splendours of my beloved Mother City. There is of course so much more, and our cultural offerings are as rich and diverse as the magnificent mountains and land and seascapes. Before our hectic child rearing years, Mr SQ and I used to regularly attend the weekly symphony concerts at the city hall, but that seems to have fallen by the wayside over the past two decades. By contrast, the Cape Philharmonic Orchestra has risen to greater heights, and we ventured forth on Thursday night (braving bitterly cold weather in favour of the familiar fireside) to go to the Weber, Rachmaninov, and Vaughan Williams concert.
I still get a thrill going to the city hall, even though she resembles a somewhat shabby old lady at this stage. Past grandeurs, history and the backdrop of Table Mountain compensate for the seediness which surrounds her and the somewhat archaic ticket sales system. We are out and about, and ready to partake of a great event, which is about to exceed our already high expectations on the musical front.
The evening kicks off with an informative talk by the inimitable Rodney Trudgeon, king of classical music in my mind, whose remarkably rich voice, charming delivery and seemingly infinite knowledge of music leaves me utterly enthralled and in awe. His descriptions of concertos are poetry in themselves, and we are so very lucky to have him now in cape Town and especially hosting "Classic Breakfast" on FMR most weekday mornings. Dunno where Suzy Q would be without you doll, so in case you didn't know, you're dearly loved by this blogger. www.fmr.co.za
The most impressive Curtain-Raiser was performed by the Cape Philharmonic Youth Wind Ensemble, conducted by Sean Kierman. Those bright young things, all eager, talented and clearly delighted to be performing on such an auspicious stage were an inspiration to behold and a pleasure to listen to, particularly in the light of being part of an outreach initiative. The future of a country is in it's youth, so hope springs eternal in my mind, and I wish that more could be done to invest in the lost children of the country.
But I digress before the big event, the unforgettable highlight of the evening, which was the performance of Sergei Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No. 3 in D Minor, OP. 30 by the Cape Philharmonic Orchestra. We were seated in one of the balconies, which rather makes one feel like royalty, but more importantly allows for great acoustics and also give's a bird's eye view of the goings on on stage.
Guest conductor Arjan Tien from the Netherlands swooped, controlled and cajoled his musicians from a moving Maria von Weber overture, to the most rousing and emotive pieces of piano music I have ever heard performed. Anotonio Pompa-Baldi, the highly acclaimed Italian pianist delicately, deftly and passionately played the Steinway till it sang, soared and roared. And that was as nothing to the resounding ovation of the audience. I thought my my heart was going to bounce right out of it's chest.
As for the rest, it fairly paled into insignificance, but the symphony concerts are hopefully going to feature more regularly on our calendar. After all, if we don't all make an effort to support our arts, we will have only ourselves to blame if and when they fall by the wayside.
www.cpo.org.za
On that note, good night and best wishes for an enjoyable weekend to you,
With love from Suzy Q
Sundays, once days of religion, rest and most definitely no shopping, drinking, movies and at times in our dark past, no petrol have evolved into a general free for all. Pity the poor shop assistants for whom it has become a normal working day. There have been Sundays so bleak and lonely in my past that I won't bore you by repeating them in this hopefully, cheerful blog, but will instead fill you in on a perfect Sunday for us. Life being as unpredictable as it is, this doesn't always occur in this order, if at all, but on a good, uncomplicated day, it goes something like this...
We attend the earliest Mass of the day, trying to enjoy a service sans rug rats with pious mothers warning the little brats in loud whispers about Baby Jesus coming to strike them down if they persist in bleating, banging their expensive toys on the pews and running up and down the aisles during the Eucharist. (They do anyway so I wonder what religion will mean to them at the end of all of this? Ditto the little girl and her mother who managed, no matter where we tried to hide from them, to sit on top of us, as she unwrapped one noisy, edible treat after another throughout the service and devoured them, presumably as a means of keeping her quiet. This included her extravagant Easter Eggs deposited on her pew by the Easter Bunny on Easter Sunday. The sound of the unwrapping of shiny metallic paper surpassed all her cellophane sweety packets in the past. Perhaps we'd have more peace if we went into the cry room provided for them?) So, all this to say that we go to some lengths to try to secure a peaceful corner in which to contemplate our lives and say our prayers. Leaving Mass we place a posy on the plaque of a dearly loved departed friend, and pause for a few moments to give thanks for her friendship and kindness. RIP. The car park resonates with the somewhat melancholic tunes from the saxophonist who takes up residence during the rush hour, which probably gives him a welcome respite from his room in the old age home opposite the church. We appreciate his music and let him know so. On Father's Day he told me that his only child lives in Australia, so what can I say, my heart goes out to him, loneliness being what it is.
Next stop, or step, is Kirstenbosch, also early enough to beat the crowds, where we do a brisk stroll, and marvel, as always at the splendour of this most beautiful of botanical gardens in our very midst. The Tea Room adjacent to the Garden Centre is proving to be our favourite coffee stop (vis a vis my recent posting on the disappointing Moyo Restaurant which has taken up residence on the old Silvertree Restaurant site.) There, the staff are bright and shining when the doors open at 8.30am even on some of the freezing cold mornings we have been there. For R19 we get an excellent capuccino with a biscotti in magnificent surroundings served by smiling staff, so you really can't go wrong. I'm eyeing their High Tea for Two and will fill you in when I've splashed out on a high day. www.ktr.co.za
All going well, we head to Chart Farm in Wynberg to pick roses for home as much as to ogle their views. I've written about the delights of rose picking here before so don't want to bore you, but may this just serve to remind you of how much fun it is to go an select one's own long stemmed, fragrant blooms fresh from the farm. We never tire of it. From here we hotfoot it to St James for a stroll on the walkway, and weather permitting, a dip in the tidal pool. I must add that it can be very pleasant swimming even in winter, perhaps even more so than summer, as barring a few rapid intakes of breath, it is at least uncrowded, and divine to have all that space for frolicking. On occasion we have decided against braving the chilly waters, only to spy two guys messing around in their wetsuits, then we simply can't resist casually stripping off and swimming to the wall, causing them to sulk just a bit and skulk off.
Then it's home for one of Mr SQ's famous Sunday lunches. The kitchen is his sole domain for the day, where he is more than a dab hand. Tradition reigns supreme here, and it's a roast fest or similar, usually accompanied by some bubbles or a good bottle or two of wine. It's a great day to catch up with our daughters, who study or party so hard that we really don't see enough of them any more, so it is our Family Sunday Thing. However, it's also a great opportunity to share a leisurely meal with friends and family. I flicked through our phone book last week, wondering who would like to join us, and wished that many of our nearest and dearest weren't so very far away. That includes Durban, France, Ireland, Jo'burg, New York, Singapore, Switzerland, Uganda, UK, Worcester and more, especially those we shall see sadly no more, whose names I can't bear to erase from our book. So thanks to the two dear friends who dropped all to join us last Sunday, hope they enjoyed the day as much as we did.
Lotsa love,
Suzy Q
PS. And then of course, the Sunday nap calls... No wonder Communism failed!
