What jolly japes!

And don't forget, folks - it was all for charidee.... (Great Ormond St Hospital: we got drunk for the sick children - feel free to donate too*)

That's me in my santa outfit**. And Jeremy (who is my line manager, but also my good friend - handy!) who plays the french horn.

*note 1: some people are describing this as "sponsorship". However, I feel that this is stretching credibility. To my mind, you get sponsored to do things that are challenging or unpleasant, not to get dressed up and go on the lash.

**note 2: the jacket was not for warmth (had giant overcoat for that), so much as modesty. That dress was really quite little.

Santafest 2006

Last night I participated in Santafest 2006 - effectively a bar crawl for which you must make a donation to cheridee (which I would encourage you to do through the Santafest link above), AND be dressed as santa.

I was the only girl santa.

I think we may have been quite a sight to behold: twenty santas wandering around Smithfield market, and, ultimately, throwing some big santa shapes on the dancefloor at Vic Naylors.

Here's a (not terribly good) pic. The bloke in the mac looks like some kind of santa fetishist.

Upcoming concerts

I always seem to forget to tell people about my upcoming concerts. So to rectify this I thought I would post the details...

Hertfordshire Chamber Orchestra:
Saturday 13th January 7.30pm
Church of St Peter and St Paul, Tring, Hertfordshire

Sunday 14th January 7.30pm
St Paul’s Church, Covent Garden. Tickets £10 on the door.

The programme for both concerts is:
Haydn Symphony no 101 ‘The Clock’
Beethoven Romance for violin and orchestra Op 50
Rossini Overture to ‘Il Signor Bruschino’
Mendelsohn Italian Symphony

The soloist and director is Paul Barritt, who has led the English Chamber Orchestra and Halle Orchestra (i.e. he really is rather good, yet charmingly self-effacing).

EC4 Music
Monday 5th February 7.30pm
Barbican Hall, London Tickets £10-35 available from the Barbican box office (020 7638 8891 - or use the link)

The programme is:
Rossini Overture: The Thieving Magpie
Rachmaninov Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, op 43
Karol Szymanowski Stabat Mater, op 53
Eric Whitacre Sleep
Vaughan Williams Three Shakespeare Songs
Vaughan Williams Five Mystical Songs

Soloists include Claire Seaton, whose voice ought to be bottled and distributed in disaster zones to remind people that heaven exists.

Imagination Gap

I bought a really fab shirt at the weekend, from a little independent shop. The problem is that there is absolutely no way for me to describe it to you without it sounding like possibly the biggest crime against fashion that has ever existed:

• Olive drab colour
• Turned back cuffs lined in pink leopard print
• Little gold blobs instead of buttons

See? Not doing it for you, is it? But given that I have already told you that it is fab, you will therefore appreciate that what you are currently experiencing is an Imagination Gap...

Wuthering frets

Do my cultural adventures never cease? This Sunday - and a quick digression already: I have really bought into the idea of going out on Sunday nights. It takes away that "all downhill from here" feeling that sets in around Sunday lunchtime. But anyway, on with the story - I went to the Drill Hall (cool alternative venue off Tottenham Court Road) to see the unique and wonderful Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain.

I am assuming that you (just like me 12 months ago) are unfamiliar with this splendidly clever but totally ridiculous musical comedy ensemble. I first encountered them on an album of bizarre cover versions that I bought as a present for my sister, who is an appreciator of both the sublime and the ridiculous in equal measure. The album included such classics as Walk this way performed by Hayseed Dixie, Beat It by Senor Coconut, and the Ukelele Orchestra covering Miss Dynamiteeeee.

Following my enthusiasm for that particular track, which I guess I must have inflicted on people a bit too often, Mick then went and got me the Uke Orchestra's album The Secret of Life for my birthday. And then, to cap the globe, my parents spotted last night's gig and arranged some tickets.

The highlights for me were probably Smells like teen spirit, by Nirvana (complete with headbanging and plucking of strings with teeth) and the club-singer-style version of Kate Bush's Wuthering Heights. You can hear snippets of this last track on their website (linked above), and begin your own journey into the four-stringed world - which appears to be almost a religion to their fans.

Taxi jinx

So we were out having a few drinks last night, and really struggled to get a cab. Eventually, we ordered one that said he would be there in 25 minutes (sounds familiar?), but didn't actually arrive for another one-and-a-half hours.

When he showed up, my friend Sarah went outside and said to the driver, "Where have you been?! We've been waiting since 12.30!"

Whereupon the taxi driver said, "Well, if that's how you feel, forget it." And drove off.

Despair sets in.

Phone rings. It's 1.15am, and I'm getting rather grouchy at my desk in the Department of Health.

Me: Hello?
Taxi driver: Hello. I'm in Whitehall. Where is your building?
Me: It's the Department of Health. It's a big building set back from the road, opposite the cenotaph. Do you know the cenotaph?
TD: No. I'm at Studio.
Me: ???? I don't know Studio. The cenotaph is a big stone monument in the middle of the road on Whitehall. It's got wreaths of poppies and flags hanging off it. Can you see it?
TD: Monument? No. I'm at Studio.
Me: I don't know Studio. Which end of Whitehall are you at?
TD: Don't know.
Me: Can you get to the end that is nearest to Parliament Square?
TD: Parliament Street?
Me: Parliament Square - you know: where the Houses of Parliament are.
TD: I don't know Houses of Parliament.
Me: *eek!* Do you know Downing Street?
TD: No. I call you back when I find Parliament Street.
Me: Oh. Ok.

********

More travels

I'm off to Sheffield in the morning. I have to catch a train at 5.56am in order to be at my meeting at 10.30am, so I'm guessing my contribution to said meeting will be somewhat less than enthusiastic.

Particuarly as it is already 1am and I STILL can't get a taxi home. I spoke to a minicab company at 12.15, who said they could do me a car in 25 minutes.

"Are you sure it will be 25, and not, say, 45 minutes?" I said.

"Ha ha ha. You funny girl. 25 minutes" said the lying little b*stard at the taxi company.

Day tripper

So much time has passed, but I have so little to amuse you with. (Is there ever? Let's not discuss that one.)

I spent yesterday in Cornwall on a business trip. Very few people get to use a sentence like that one, I can tell you. I had to fly down on Sunday night, and back this morning (very early, hence the bags under my eyes and the slightly grouchy tone to my typing).

The plane was a cute little propeller one. It has 13 rows of seats (although the 13th row is numbered 14), with four in each row. I've never been in a prop plane before. Did you know that your seat vibrates when the engines get going? Unfortunately, this is in a "numb bum" rather than "massage chair" kind of way. Otherwise they could probably re-brand it and charge extra.

As you may have noticed, the conditions this morning were pretty much storm force. Even once the plane was on the stand, it was shaken about by the wind. It was like a rather nasty caravanning experience (Devon, mobile home, dad giving up smoking, Bo with tonsilitis and SHOCKING weather. Ah, the memories!).

Anyway, I digress. The poor little plane was all over the shop like a demented roller-coaster. Stuff was being flung down the aisle by the turbulence. I sort of enjoyed it (in an odd way) - it didn't feel dangerous (we had a lady pilot - I had total faith in her), but I did nearly heave my breakfast. Concentrating on not throwing up did put a bit of a damper on things.

Anyway, so that was my day. And now I'm very tired, and I haven't even told you about my quest to perfect the Classic Champagne Cocktail over the weekend... [answer: we came close, but there is still room for further practice]