It isn’t often I go to London although it’s only seventy miles or so away and just over an hour by train. Twice in one week is unheard of. The week of the Moonwalk though, that was exactly what I’d be doing. The first of the two trips was rather exciting, if a little scary as I’d be all on my own and liable to get lost. Arabella and I would be meeting up at a studio in Marylebone to audition some musicians for the ship. Obviously I know nothing about classical music but Arabella thought I would be able to get an idea about the musicians themselves. It was heartening that she trusted my judgement.
9 May 2013
Last night felt a little on the manic side but I got through it all in the end. The Ted Baker bag, when I got it out of the wardrobe, needed a good clean rather desperately. The last time I used it was on the way back from our Moroccan adventure, the one that ended in a night sitting on the floor of a Surrey hospital worrying about Commando. There was even an Easyjet luggage tag in one of the pockets. That accomplished I had to pack all the brochures and paperwork in and still find space for vital things like my keys, purse and what not. Quite a lot of the what not ended up staying in the little leather rucksack at home. That bag weighs a ton, good job I didn’t plan on walking anywhere much with it then.
The quiche got made, the shower was had and clothes were arranged artfully on the clothes horse for the morning. Two choices of clothes because I wasn’t sure about the weather. Phones and things were charged. Early morning bus timetables were checked. Honestly, I’ve spent less time packing for holidays. I went to bed early. I couldn’t get to sleep. Five past five came round very quickly. Why five past? I have a thing about palindromic numbers and always set the alarm for one, normally it’s six sixteen. Maybe Commando isn’t the only one with a touch of OCD. Commando came in the door just as I finished putting my makeup on and we had five minutes together. At least I was awake, normally he’s tired and I’m half asleep. He went to bed and my taxi arrived.
The original plan was to get the early bus but Commando persuaded me to go for a taxi so I would be less stressed. It turned out to be a good plan. The taxi arrived slightly early meaning I had time to grab a large skinny latte in the Costa’s outside the station before I went to collect my tickets. As I stepped onto the platform the Waterloo train arrived, not the seven thirty I’d been planning to catch but the seven o’clock one. This was a bonus meaning I had more time at the other end to get lost on the underground. It also meant I got a seat, not always possible on the later train.
The man in the window seat next to me slept for the whole journey. At least he didn’t snore. When I used to catch the bus every day to work (back in the days when I didn’t walk much and was therefore much bigger) there was a man who slept through every journey. He was a big man, Biggest Loser big, probably only in his late twenties, but he’d sit with his head forward snoring loudly, often there was a thin string of drool from his mouth to his chest, a dark stain on his shirt. Once in a while, he’d start awake and look around. He was always on the bus when I got on and still on there when I got off. Sometimes I wondered if that was all he did, sit on the bus all day sleeping, if not, how did he ever know when to get off? Maybe the bus driver woke him when it was his stop.
Because I arrived so early and the sun was shining, I decided to walk rather than catch the tube, it was only about two miles, very doable even with the heavy bag. This of course resulted in me getting a little lost but when am I not? Still, all was well in the end, I saw Nelsons column and the Houses of Parliament and I arrived bang on time. Arabella was already there because she too had ended up with an earlier train but had taken the sensible option, caught the tube and stopped for a coffee. One of these days I’m going to learn.
The Music Studio was smaller than I expected, although I’m not sure exactly what it was I did expect having never done this kind of thing before. Arabella and I had a chance for a chat while the first group were rehearsing. She’s used this studio many times before and was telling me about the terrible flood they had a while ago where all the pianos were ruined.
The first group were a quartet of singers with a pianist. Two beautiful young girls singing with two handsome young men while another handsome young man sat behind the big black baby grand piano. They started with Some Enchanted Evening which I did at least know. Wonderful voices filling the tiny room, every note on the piano was perfect (well as far as my untrained ear could tell). At the end I felt as if I should be clapping but, as Arabella wasn’t, I guessed it wasn’t the done thing. It was tough not to though.
The next piece was a duet, the story of Casanova trying to woo a young woman and steal her away from her fiancé, I know because they introduced it. This was not a piece I knew and was sung in Italian so I didn’t understand a word, even so, the way they acted out the piece as they sang, the expressions and movements, told the story and I was enchanted. The next duet by the two girls was a French piece so I at least had an inkling of the meaning. Finally they were all together again for a bit of Gilbert and Sullivan.
The interview afterwards was as interesting as the mini concert. They’d done their homework, asked pertinent questions and were filled with enthusiasm. Arabella and I looked at each other and nodded. We didn’t even have to discuss it, we offered them a cruise there and then and they were thrilled. I’m sure the passengers will fall in love with them.
After a short interval the next couple came in. This time a pianist we have used many times before with an untried singer she wanted to introduce us to. The pianist, a tiny oriental woman, greeted me like an old friend. We’ve never met but we’ve had many email conversations. She wasn’t quite how I expected her to be which is often the way I find. When you ‘know’ someone only through email and telephone you have a picture in your head. This picture may or may not bear any relationship to reality and first meetings can often be surprising. She probably felt the same looking at me to be fair.
Again the first song was one I knew, Can’t Help Loving Dat Man of Mine From Showboat. My misspent youth watching old black and white musicals on Saturday afternoons with Mother have finally come in useful. Then were were some classical pieces and then another song I knew, I could have Danced all night from My Fair Lady. Really it was so beautiful to hear it sung so perfectly it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. After a final gentle French song the programme came to an end we got down to business. The singer had already been well briefed so knew what to expect and we offered her a cruise too. Two out of two can’t be bad for a morning’s work.
Of course when the time came to leave the studio and make our way across London to our next appointment it was raining. This didn’t help the search for the nearest tube station and we ended up going in the wrong direction altogether. My mission in life seems to be to get thoroughly lost at every oportunity even when I’m with someone who knows where they’re going as Arabella believed she did. In the end we ducked into a doorway to get our bearings and, as we noticed we were right in front of Prezzo, decided to break for lunch and work it out from there. Lunch in Prezzo with Arabella seems to be becoming a bit of a habit but at least they have a light menu and I didn’t eat all of mine.
The tube station was just around the corner, not the one we’d originally meant to use, and to the left rather than the right as the waitress had told us (someone else who can’t tell which is which then) but it was good enough. After two changes of train we found ourselves in more or less the right place and, with a little wandering up and down, found the shop tucked away right on the corner.
What a shop! A real Aladdin’s cave of a place packed to the gills with so many wonderful things you could easily spend a day just browsing. Actually, given the price tags, all I could afford to do would be browsing. The owner, Basia Zarzycka, greeted us enthusiastically, leading us into her little workshop talking all the while. The workshop was filled with wedding dresses and she explained how she uses antique lace, decoupage, silk flowers and beads to create beautiful original designs. She makes jewellery, flowers, cushions, shoes, hats and all kinds of strange and exotic creations using lace, beads, feathers or scraps of material. This is not a craft shop it is most definitely art and very good art, big fashion houses work with her.
We went back to the shop and talked a while about what she could do on board but it was difficult not to let my eyes wander around, flitting from one piece to the next. Her enthusiasm for sharing her gift with others, showing them how they can recycle old things and make beautiful pieces themselves, was infectious. I wanted to dash home and begin to make things. I wanted to know how to create beautiful, eccentric art. Maybe I will, after all I love to make things, I can sew and have experimented with jewellery making, dressmaking that kind of thing. How could we say no to her spreading this joy to our passengers?
Arabella was very taken with some wonderful cushions, not the kind you would ever throw on the sofa and sit on, something to be put in pride of place and displayed like a painting. Lace and velvet, silk, beads and quilting made into a basket of exquisite fruit. “How long did these take?” Arabella asked. “About forty hours,” Basia said. She knew our ship, she liked its exclusivity, the fact it’s different to anything else, just like her. When we left she presented us each with a little bag containing a scented silk flower while gushing her thanks and excitement to be allowed to work with us.
Arabella was off shopping after that, she’d spotted a rather lovely and expensive chair she wanted for her husband. I set off for the underground and Waterloo. For once I didn’t get lost, one change of train, four stops and I arrived with just enough time to use the loo and buy another skinny latte before my train left. Talk about good planning, or maybe good luck. I even got a seat, next to a businessman discussing air conditioning units on his phone. There were of course the ubiquitous feet and bags on seats, there seems to be no getting away from that.
When I opened the bag with the flower to look more closely I was astonished to find two little black jewellery bags slipped inside and hidden away. One contained the most unusual silver brooch, crystals and blue stones and a pair of silver earrings, real silver too so I can actually wear them. I am quite literally blown away and have already sent an email thanking her.
As always with these things, the organisation was a bit of a nightmare and I started the morning full of nerves and stress. In the end it was better than I could possibly have hoped and I’m almost looking forward to our next set of auditions next week. Aren’t I a lucky girl?
