In or out

Whilst sitting in the dentist's chair and experiencing the near drowning experience again, I distracted myself by thinking about the upcoming referendum. To leave or not to leave is indeed the question, and I admit to not having a clue as to how to cast my vote. I suspect that many will not bother as they feel that their vote counts for nothing. In general elections that may be the case but in this instance, in theory at least, every vote counts and it seems that all is in the balance.

I find myself looking at the supporters of both sides and tend to be swayed in the opposite direction to  many of those. This puts me in a tricky spot as I do not want to side with Cameron and his cronies, but neither do I wish to side with HRH and the half of the tory party that wants us to leave.  The pamphlets simply find statistics that support the vested interests of the few that back them, and the media are driven by their wealthy owners; even the BBC can no longer be seen as neutral.

Whatever decision is made will benefit the wealthy and the rest of us will probably see little or no difference, regardless of what we are told. We are powerless at the end of the day and like me in the dentist chair, incapable of being heard. 

A night at the opera

I saw Tosca last night. It was a company that I have never heard of and in a venue that I had never before visited and so I went along with some trepidation. I always arrive early for everything, and last night was no exception. We had a meal and a couple of glasses of wine in a nearby restaurant before the show and found our seats with at least fifteen minutes to go. I like to watch people even though I am not fond of being amongst them, and it fascinates me to watch an auditorium fill.  I often place bets with myself as to which seats will be filled last, and it is usually those in the middle of a row, where the most people can be disturbed by those who linger in the bar for as long as they possibly can, or leave going to the toilet until the last possible minute. Seven thirty came, and there were still people faffing around looking for their seats and generally making nuisances of themselves, and it struck me that these were people of my age or even older; people brought up in different times and with different social values, or so I naively imagined. In fact the whole audience was made up of the silver haired, with a handful of younger people possibly there to look after their parents.

Opera is an acquired taste. There is nothing natural about it, and yet it encompasses so many art forms in one experience. To go to an opera is not something that most people would consider unless they are already interested. To begin with it is expensive, and then you have to suspend your disbelief as often, wholly unrepresentative people take on the roles of young lovers or whatever. It requires concentration as well as understanding and let's face it opera does not have a lot of street cred.

What is the future for provincial opera companies? When my generation are no longer there to fill the seats, will the next generation be willing or able to take our place?  I suspect not, and that is sad. Opera may one day be limited to places like Covent Garden and will be the property of the wealthy. The rest may never experience the thrills and the emotions that go along with performances of Puccini, Verdi, Mozart and the rest of the great operatic composers.

Tosca was good. The orchestra very professional and the cast performed with their hearts. It was a good evening even if my lack of faith in my fellow humans was underlined once again.