It was a quite extraordinary experience for me. I’ve heard Vadim, and the Brahms, many times. But never before from the second row of the audience, just a few feet from the stage.  The organisers of smaller events seem to think that guests and VIPs (I am definitely the former) have to be given seats in the front or second rows.

In fact, it can be quite distracting for the soloist or orchestra members to have friends right in front of them, in clear eye contact.  I’ve always been in the body of the hall, perhaps the middle of the stalls, for Vadim’s concerts.  And I told him firmly afterwards that that’s where I want to be in future, as I could have a heart attack if the Colmar experience was repeated….   We laughed a lot about it, but the experience was of an intensity I have never felt before.  I could actually at moments hear the shivering noise of the bow on the strings, as distinct from the note that was produced.

I had to keep remembering to breathe, and I realised why some musicians annotate their scores with “breathing marks”. I could have used some.

Spivakov is a violinist who has become a conductor, and Vadim told me that radically changes their interaction, because the conductor knows intimately what the soloist  wants from him and the orchestra at every moment.

It was a wonderful evening, well worth the trip. Because “To Colmar” was not down the road, it was across the full width of France, from the Channel coast (to be precise, 7 kilometres inland), where my house is, to just by the German border, two days each way with my leisurely driving, and a total of 1300 kms, around 800 miles.

I avoided all toll and expressways, and main roads as far as I could, and wandered through “la France profonde” – literally deepest France, but also, particularly in French political terms, the essential France, far from the bling, intellectualism and posturing of Paris and the other big cities.  And thereby hangs a further post.

British pagentry is sublime. My wife summed it up at one moment as the couple rode back to Buckingham Palace in their open carriage.  “Just look at that wonderful picture, one woman in white in a gold and gilt carriage, surrounded by all those men on black horses, in shining armour, helmets and plumes, and the liveried grooms on the carriage’s horses and the postillions behind.”

I’m not uploading any photos because it seems unlikely that anyone reading this anywhere in the world will not have seen such images and much, much more, today.

And the music.  We adore trumpet fanfares, and there was “Jerusalem” and Walton’s stirring “Crown Imperial” as they walked out of the cathedral.  If I have any criticism of the BBC coverage, it is that we did not hear enough of the music, and that they closed the broadcast with a cheesy pop song over the best clips of the day. Walton would have been much classier.

It’s not the sort of thing we usually do, but I think we will buy the DVD of the wedding so that we can hear the music properly – and of course for those moments like Harry looking over his shoulder at Kate coming up the aisle and making a quick quip to William – “don’t worry, she is coming” or something else brotherly like that.

We attended a small “wedding party” with a handful of old friends, glued to the big TV screen while eating first scrambled eggs with smoked salmon (proceedings had very much started by the time we got to north London at 10 a.m.), later a lovely lunch, and toasting the couple in champagne.

We were impressed by Kate’s cheerful calmness through. She seemed amazingly unruffled by the enormity of the occasion, though she did clearly said”Oh, wow!” when she stepped out on to the balcony of Buckingham Palace and looked down the Mall packed with people as far as she could see.  I have suspected for some time that that might be the moment of single impact of what she has now become.

During the service, we thought that William seemed more nervous than she did. “That’s normal with husbands at their wedding,” said my ever-wise wife, echoed by the other women present.

It was, of course, the bride’s day, but she could almost have been upstaged by her willowy sister in quite the most stunning dress of the whole occasion. Lucky that they are apparently very close ….

The second littlest bridesmaid had us in hysterics. She was tired and grumpy, and clearly didn’t like all the noise. She had probably been over-excited the night before, hadn’t slept until late and must have been woken early. In a few years time those pictures will embarrass her, until she grows old enough to see the funny side.  Full marks, however, to the other girls and the two page boys.

And full marks to three of Williams’ helicopter crew, interviewed by the BBC, telling it how it is as a search and rescue helicopter pilot “putting his life on the line every time he goes on a mission” and how he is such an integral part of the team there.

It has been made clear how much input William and Kate had in organising their wedding, and the closing touch, with him driving his father’s Aston Martin decorated in traditional ribbons and balloons down the Mall was very much “new generation royals.”  As was his impromptu walk-about the evening before to greet the crowds already lining the Mall. I have no reason to disbelieve his press secretary who said it was a spur of the moment idea when William and Harry looked out of the windows of Clarence House.

Without trying to be presumptuous, the new Duke and Duchess of Cambridge do really seem like a most likeable young couple.

And I imagine that as I write, they are enjoying their best man’s speech – which I would love to hear reports of, but I doubt we will -before a tremendous party.  The Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh left Buck House to them for the party, retreating to Windsor Sandringham, and as one TV commentator said, “coming back on Monday to see what damage the kids did…”

Late show of daffodils in suburbanLondon

Ebury Square, central London (near Victoria station)

And a scene at the Masked Ball at the Anglo-Belgian Club, London (some better photos are awaited from other sources).

Jordan creates online archaeology treasure trove
By DALE GAVLAK, Associated Press – Tue Apr 12

AMMAN, Jordan – Jordan on Tuesday launched the world’s largest online antiquities database, which details every archaeological site in the country and aims to help preserve its treasures. Its creators said the Web platform could be a model for Iraq, where looters have plundered its ancient heritage.

Experts said the Middle Eastern Geodatabase for Antiquities is the first such countrywide system. The site uses Geographic Information System, similar to Google Earth, to map 11,000 registered sites in the country — and a click on each reveals inventories of what they contain and reports on their conditions.

The public can use the material for planning visits. Scholars and inspectors approved by Jordan’s Antiquities can update the information in a user-friendly way for other professionals to follow and for authorities to keep track of threats to the sites.

Jordan hosts a number of World Heritage sites, most famously the 2,000 year-old rose rock city of Petra — but also Umm er-Rassas, a city dating back to the 5th century that features ancient Byzantine churches, and Qasr Amra, an 8th century Islamic castle. It is also dotted with sites dating from the Neolithic Age, through Biblical times to the Crusades.

The $1 million MEGA program was developed in cooperation with Getty Institute of Los Angeles and the New York-based World Monuments Fund.

“Jordan is at the forefront of safeguarding its heritage,” Getty’s director Tim Whalen said at an Amman press conference with antiquities chief Ziad al-Saad unveiling the system.

“A piece of software is not going to stop looting,” Whalen said, but MEGA’s cataloging system will enable “greater protection and attention to archaeological heritage.”

Archaeologists have increasingly used GIS and similar technologies to inventory digs and other uses. But Barbara A. Porter, director of the American Center of Oriental Research in Amman, said that MEGA “is the first of its kind.”

“It has been a huge undertaking in terms of its breadth, time and finance. Rarely do you find that amount of money involved in creating such a system,” said Porter, whose center was not involved in developing MEGA.

Joseph Greene, the assistant director at Harvard University’s Semitic Museum, said MEGA stands out from among other GIS archaeological systems, which have been more narrow in scope and intention.

MEGA is the “first countrywide system used by an antiquities department” and is unique because it can used both for research and for managing sites in a readily usable format, he said.

The online system defines the boundaries of each site, an important factor in trying to prevent urban encroachment on antiquities zones, its creators say. It can help authorities in planning strategies for research and tourism development, and makes it easier for government agencies to share information. Those working in the field can report theft of wear and tear caused by tourist traffic.

Al-Saad said the system is expected to be used regionally, especially in Iraq, which has seen widescale damage and theft of its extensive archaeological treasures.

Whalen said MEGA will give Iraqi colleagues a modern way to inventory the country’s sites, their condition, potential threats, but “most importantly identify their geographical boundaries in a relatively easy-to-use system.”

____

Online:

MEGA Jordan: http://megajordan.org

The MEGA site is absolutely fascinating.

So black tie for the gentlemen, and any black and white creation for the ladies. (I suppose the white dinner shirt fulfills the mandate for the gentlemen).

Then there are the masks. Despite many visits to Venice, we have never acquired any – most of them are terrible kitsch. I suggested a quick trip to La Serenissima might be in order to buy our masks, but that did not fly with the Treasurer, who found her feathery mask on line. I trolled around London and eventually found a rather plain burglar-style mask, which has been spruced up with silver “eyebrows”.  Mine was more of a problem as I wear glasses …

If they are satisfactory, I have the courage, and I have time, I’ll post some discreet photos after the ball …

I say “have time” as on Monday, we are off to Norway to cruise from Bergen up the coast all the way to the North Cape (on a vessel called Nordkap) to Kirkenes, 10 kms from the Russian frontier.  We fly into Oslo, give a distant wave to Holly, Misty and Vesla, then train to Bergen.  I did that trip many years ago and loved it.

It will of course be quite cold towards the north, but we are looking forward very much to seeing the wild landscape – sometimes southern Europe is just too farmed and neat.

In London, it has suddenly become a wonderful warm spring. The gardens are looking wonderful with masses of daffodils, crocuses (croqui?) and so forth, and it’s been a balmy 15-16 C during the day.  A relief after what seemed like a very long winter.

PS: By happy chance, the Norway trip starts just after the first Grand Prix of the 2011 season, this weekend in Melbourne (the first, courtesy of the problems in Bahrain having cancelled the scheduled first race) and ends before the second race in Malaysia. Would have been difficult to have to hear it only on shortwave radio, or suchlike.

The Upholders Company was originally for upholsterers, though its membership is now more varied. But it still provides bursaries for student upholsterers, supports some retired upholsterers in their declining years, and helps other charities.

The Armourers' Hall laid for dinner. Photo:Iceman Photography

For the evening, the only illumination is candlelight – the three branch candlesticks on the tables and real candelabra hanging from the ornate glass roof.  Each candle has one of those intriguing glass cups to hold the wax, which slides down as the candle burns.

A very old friend of ours, a Past Master and Father of the Company, died recently at the splendid age of 92, and he was especially remembered at the choral evensong, which was why we were invited – we are not Upholders ourselves.

The memorial took the form of as thrilling and soaring a performance of Allegri’s Misereri mei as I have ever heard, during which we were invited to remember Alan’s life.

The vicar gave a most unusual sermon, lambasting the Archbishop of Canterbury for recently extolling the virtues of the King James’ Bible because it is the 400th anniversary of its first publication “while he and the hierarchy of the Anglican Church have been doing their utmost to replace it with ‘modern, relevant’ translations for the last 30 years.”

He described how, when he took over the church in 1998, there was no King James’ on the premises, so he asked nearby St. Paul’s if he could borrow one.  “Of course,” they told him, ” we don’t use it – unless the Roayl family is here.  We don’t use it for ordinary people.”  So he took a long loan from the cathedral and now – he thundered – “it is where it belongs, on the lectern.”

He then went on to compare and contrast quotations from the KJB with those from modern versions, getting some laughs in the process from a congregation mainly brought up, like him, on the KJB.

He was later to give a very unorthodox Grace before the dinner that had the diners in fits – rather like the Australian “2,4,6,8; bog in, don’t wait” – but later led the singing for the very traditional Grace that closed the evening.

After a reception with mulled wine, we went to the table and stood, clapping in a slow rhythm as the Company’s senior members and leading guests processed to the top table led by the very solemn Beadle with his long staff and robes.  He was much engaged during the evening with his gavel, introducing various speakers.

Dinner? A perfect baked white stilton souflé, a very generous pavé of tender Wagyu beed (like Kobe beef but raised outside Japan), and panatone pudding.  Though the dinner was provided by the Armourer’s chefs, the wines were from the cellars of the Upholders.  Coffee and a fine Armagnac to round it off. As good a dinner as I’ve had in a long time.

Then the Loving Cup was passed around.  This is a very old ceremony of City of London Guilds.  “The custom is said to have originated in the precaution to keep the right, or ‘dagger’ hand, employed so that the person who drinks may be assured of no treachery, such as that practiced by Elfrida on the unsuspecting King Edward the Martyr, who was slain while drinking at Corfe Castle. This is why the Loving Cup has a cover” which is lifted by the person not drinking. Once the person has drunk, wiped the edge of the large silver vessel with the cloth attached, and handed it to his neighbour, he or she turns her back on the neighbour, now engaged in the ritual, to protect their back from attack.

The cup is filled with spiced wine, immemorially termed ‘Sack’. (There is a long history of the tradition here.)

Then came the Toasts.  The Queen – we sang the National Anthem – various members of the Royal Family -we listened to the Anthem again, played by the pianist who had accompanied dinner – and The Lord Mayor and The City of London Corporation. All had been invoked in prayers earlier at the service.

The Master of the Company spoke, again remembering our friend and noting how he was the driving force behind the presentation of a silver model of the submarine HMS Upholder to a current Royal Navy submarine.  The Upholders adopted the original submarine Upholder during World War II.

Then the guest spoke, the imposing figure of Dom Felix Stephens OSB, the Master of St. Benet’s Hall in Oxford. He associated the Rule of St.Benedict with running modern businesses, and names of the CEOs of major companies were very familiar to him, as co-chairman of an annual event at an Oxford business school.  One gets to meet unusual people on these occasions.

He initially turned to the vicar and said with a grin that one of the new Bibles that he had been criticing “was written by one of my brother Benedictines” before confessing that he rather favoured the King James’ version himself …

The evening was rounded off with a “Stirrup Cup”, another round of coffee and Armagnac in a reception  room lined with cases of armour, one suit from 1600 with fine chasing and intricate articulation which had belonged to Queen Elizabeth I’s Champion, and portraits from the same era.

It gave me a chance to talk with Dom Felix and learn his further thoughts on translation of  the Bible, in which I have some interest.

At the entrance to the Hall, by the way, was an example of the latest in Army body armour. This is not just an historical Company.

And so carriages were called for, and a very British evening ended.

LH was kind enough to host my question as to how on earth a translator in Barcelona, lo these 30 years ago, ended up wishing journalists attending the 24 Hours of Montjuich motorcycle race “a wire brush stay.”

Ton Recht commented:

I think I might have it: the original [must have] read ‘una grata estancia’ “a pleasant stay”, and grata was taken as a form of the verb gratar “burnish, scrape, brush”. Any takers?

Ian Preston was the first of several to agree, adding “You can even find grata translated as ‘wire brush’ in a couple of on-line dictionaries.”

Many thanks to everyone for solving a problem that has been intermittently worrying me for all those years.

The power of the Internet – and of Language Hat.

Being a presciptivist by nature and training, I warmed to Morre’s argument.

Some extracts here show his thinking.

…Language always changes – none more so than English – and it is owned by all its users, not by any priest, politician or professor….. Anyone who states that a usage is eternally correct is likely to be wrong.

… But in attacking the people whom he sees as pedants, Mr Hitchings is picking an easy target and, in modern times, a peripheral one. The problem with English today is not the stern, punitive schoolmaster who wants to pin language down as a collector kills his butterflies. All those begowned men whom I am just old enough to remember who shouted things like ” Get only means obtained” have long been expelled from the classroom.

It is the opposite school of thought which now prevails – the idea that any way of writing, spelling, punctuating or speaking is equally “valid”, and that dialects, ethnic minority usage and slang are more equally valid than anything “received”, “standard”, or traditional. This doctrine, which is just as “prescriptive” as what it attacks, causes ignorance and confusion.

As I understand it, Moore believes obviously highly educated people like Hitchins have the background to be able to play as freely with the language as they wish, and still be able to write fluently and express themselves clearly. But in denying all prescriptivism, they condemn those with poor education – unhappily a growing army thanks to the deficient education system – to virtual illiteracy in situations where clarity and formality are needed.

Read Moore’s piece here. I await comments on the full piece with interest.

PS: It was an interesting sidelight of the Wikileaks diplomatic leaks that the British Foreign Secretary William Hague is reported as commenting on how much better written were the US cables than many currently in the Foreign Office, littered with spelling and grammatical errors, and pedestrian writing. Apparently a US cable on a wedding in Dagestan, which I must try to find, is regarded as a striking piece of literature.

For instance, the1984 AP story from Houston about a French student at the university there. It quotes consular records as showing that 3,500 French nationals lived in Texas and Oklahoma then.

“In addition,” it continues, “Elf Aquitaine, a consulate official, says ….”.  A consular official with a sense of homour, evidently, as she (most probably she) identifiied herself to the innocent reporter using the name of a major French oil company …

Then there was the speech by Pope John Paul II on arriving in central Paris – the esplanade des Invalides, I believe – on his visit to France in 1980.  As translated by the Vatican, his closing statement read:  “We shall now have to put an end to this first contact. I shall now go to the basilique Notre Dame, the mother Church of this bishopric, as well as one of the most venerable religious erections of this country.”

There was the message from AP’s  Frankfurt photo office, asking “Anything picturewise on [woman's name] who spoiled her honeymoon by dying of concer?”

On a more elevated note, a correction by the AP’s stringer in Madagascar to his report on a speech by President Didier Ratsiraka:  “Priere de rectifier:  au lieu de ‘Conscience, conscience, installe-toi…’ lire : ‘Conscience, conscience, instinct divin, immortelle et celeste…’

Africa featured again in a message to London listing the AP’s Abidjan office photo assets. It said inter alia: “Had a couple of skylight filters but one smashed by a gorilla…”

But I was particularly delighted to find I still had a copy of the most famous press release in motor sports, that for the 24 Hours of Montjuic motorcycle race in Barcelona in July, 1979.

At the end of 2 1/2 pages of seriously mangled English, the organisers “…greet to the misters representing of the informative medias in their arrive into the Condal City, and they hope a wire brush stay and their cordial gratitude.”

“A wire brush stay” – often transmuted into ” a wire brush weekend” – became a staple of the motor sport press for many years.  One Spanish journalist attempted to work out how the dictionary-wielding translator got to the phrase – we thought his finger had slipped from the right word – but never did find any rational explanation.

Anyone out there have a clue ?