Mahler at the Royal Concert Hall

Last weekend was quite busy – we had the grandsons to mind, friends round to eat, out to Sunday lunch, and then to a concert Sunday evening.

When I booked the concert I didn’t realise how hectic the weekend would turn out to be, which is a good thing, as otherwise I might have chickened out, and missed a really great experience.

The concert was at Nottingham’s Royal Concert Hall, built in 1982. When we first moved here, after London and even Sheffield, Nottingham was quite a step down – there was only one theatre, and classical concerts were in the Albert Hall, a huge Methodist church, with pretty poor acoustics. But then the Royal Theatre was restored and reopened, and shows excellent touring productions. Only I wish they hadn’t stuck with the Victorian seating – Victorian people seemed to have been a lot narrower, with legs about half the length of modern British people, with the result that anywhere but the stalls is cripplingly uncomfortable.  But the real triumph was that they added a concert hall behind the theatre, with superb acoustics. It was the forerunner and inspiration for some other modern concert halls, such as in Birmingham and Manchester.  And the seats are comfortable!

Since we now have a suitable venue, we get much better concerts, and last Sunday’s  was really special. There was a wonderful  performance of Mozart’s 5^th Violin Concerto,  but the prime event was Mahler’s Symphony No.6. There were more than a hundred musicians on stage, including six percussionists. I had not realised how literal the “hammer blows of fate” were – one percussionist was equipped with an actual sledge hammer, something I’ve never seen before. It is a great privilege to be able to walk out of our flat and hear something like this concert so easily. We often find ourselves quoting “The Quangle Wangle’s Hat” – when all these creatures move, what a  wonderful noise there’ll be.

The noise is amazing – although it is wonderful, I do slightly tend to find Mahler somewhat self indulgent, length for the sake of it, but all these people, working so hard, so skilled, for us – it’s a thrilling thought.  And we have Mahler’s Ninth Symphony to look forward to next year.

While I’m praising Nottingham’s main music venue, I must mention the Djanogly Recital Hall, on the University campus – again, it has superb acoustics, and so we get a wonderful programme of chamber music. I do worry that, apart from some music students, we seem to be young blood at string quartet concerts. Does it take many years to acquire a taste for them? Or are they going out of fashion?

Two Nottingham traditions

I’ve been doing traditional Nottingham things the last couple of weeks. Well, one is very traditional. I went to Goose Fair, which in case you don’t already know about it, has been going since 1284, it’s thought.

When we first came to Nottingham, the schools had a half day on the Friday of Goose Fair, so the children could go, and the nursery school children were taken to see the rides being put up, on (I think) the Wednesday. Nowadays, the rides are mostly just sort of folded out from huge lorry trailers, like a Transformer. It only ran from Thursday lunchtime to midnight on Saturday. Now it seems to open on the Wednesday and still be open on the Sunday. It really is enormous, and when we had much younger children, it was always a bit of an issue, because of the noise, dirt and crowds – but you couldn’t not take them – it would have been like Father Christmas not coming.

Then later on, of course they wanted to go with their friends, which involved tense negotiations about what time, how long, where money was to be kept, how they would get home, or be collected, staying together etc, etc.

  

Well, now, I have to say, it’s a much more tolerable experience.  There was some lottery money used to restore the Forest ground, and the drainage seems to have been sorted out. It used to be horribly muddy, even if it hadn’t rained, but it isn’t now.  I don’t know whether it’s new regulations or what, but everything is cleaner – the ground, the rides, the fair attendants, the games stalls – and especially the food stalls, which are actually reasonably tempting, which they most certainly weren’t, years ago. It all feels much calmer and safer, although I imagine Saturday night is still a bit hectic.

Some things have gone – the boxing booth, the man who guessed your age, the wall of death, mouse town, which was a bit rubbish, but the kids always liked it. I’m sure there was the odd freak show thirty five years ago, too.  But there are still the old fashioned riding horses and the cake walk, and the helter skelters and ghost rides, and hook a duck, where you always win something.

As I said, the food stalls are much more appetising than they used to be, and have gone somewhat up market. I don’t think I could ask for mushy peas and a cappuccino with a straight face. But they still do the fresh doughnuts, which float down the river of hot oil, flipped over with an automatic paddle and, unlike any other doughnut I have ever tasted, are delicious.

So the second Nottingham tradition was the Beer Festival. This is obviously a lot more recent.  This year it’s actually called the beer and cider festival. There are literally thousands of beers and hundreds of ciders.  I wasn’t tempted to go until I heard that there was cider too. I don’t really like beer, but I do like cider. Mind you, there are fruit beers, which I probably ought to try. Blackcurrant and cherry sound as though they should be nice, banana  and coconut not so much.  

It’s held in the castle grounds, which is a really lovely venue. The first year I went I discovered Old Rosy cider, which is reasonably widely sold now. But I began to get an almost overwhelming urge to lie down on the grass and go to sleep, and Phil had to take me home. Fortunately, it’s practically next door.

Last year, I realised that eating solidly throughout would be beneficial, and discovered  Granny’s Weapons Grade Ginger Beer, and roast pork sandwiches.

This year, with help from a friend, I discovered a  perry called Impeared Vision, and the restorative effect of a large fruit filled flapjack. I think it’s the sugar.