The only time I've been here before was also with a ShowFilmFirst ticket. Not hard to get to, but one of these places that takes a little time: Tube to King's Cross, then first left onto York Way and it's on your right - the office building (they do have offices upstairs). I did better than the last time - this time, I noticed the exit for York Way and took that (this being one of those stations with multiple exits). And I was soon there - very early for the concert, but ShowFilmFirst do like you to get there half an hour early to pick up your ticket.
The two people ahead of me were also ShowFilmFirst customers. We made our way downstairs - the hall wasn't open yet, so I sat nearby and waited. Shortly, there was in unintelligible announcement. Nobody moved. The usher came over to me a few minutes later and explained that the hall was now open, if I wanted to go in.. figuring I'd have a more comfortable seat inside, I did.
Good seat, eh? I was first in. Seats are comfy, but - as I found out during the concert - creak loudly if you move, having wooden frames. The lady who'd been ahead of me in the queue turned out to have the seat beside me. There were two free seats on my other side, and when the concert started I moved over one, so she'd have room for her things on what had been my seat. She moved to the row behind after the interval, where she'd have room on both sides. Was very polite about it, apologising so I didn't think it was my fault.
The hall was about two-thirds full, but I have to wonder how many of us came on a free ticket. The concert was broadly divisible into three sections. Common to all three was the chap who seems to be in charge of this Dvorak festival, and whose picture is displayed on its web page - who played the piano throughout. He was accompanied thoughout by a rather fed-up-looking page-turner, who sat at his side and looked glum, mostly. And yawned a couple of times. It occurred to me to wonder why they haven't just inevnted an app for that. Page-turning, not yawning. It should be straightforward enough - a large enough screen-reader, propped on the piano (or integrated with it), that scrolls the music across the screen at an adjustable speed.
Come to that, how come only pianists have page-turners? Tradition, I'll bet. Anyhoo, for the first section, this pair were joined by a duo of ladies, one on the violin, one on the cello. The music, having gypsy origins, was as vigorous as you might expect, and I fully expected the violinist's hairslide to fly off as she bounced up and down on her seat. But I guess she's used to wearing one in this situation, and it didn't. Every now and again, the pianist leaned forward to smile encouragingly at the ladies. There was a brief pause between movements to let some latecomers take their seats. And there's another thing - there were several different pieces in this first part, but I guess they were all part of a larger opus (as usual, I didn't bother with a programme), because there was no applause right until the end. Sometimes I can understand this, but here, the pieces were quite distinct; I didn't feel a flow between them, and I don't see why we were obliged not to clap. Ah well.
The second section saw the string section leave, and be replaced by a very tall gentleman, who sang us some gypsy songs. Dunno, I never care for these myself in a classical context. Anyway, when he was done, the third section saw the string section return, now with a third member. The music throughout was lovely, and I enjoyed it. The singer didn't return to take his bow at the end, which I thought curious..
Right then, it's off to Ireland with me for the weekend. For Monday, as I studiously avoid dreary plays about misery, I'd like to go to the City Christmas Fair, but for some reason the website isn't working. So the current front-runner is a play called Her Naked Skin, about suffragism, running in the Guildhall School beside the Barbican..
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