An election, two funerals and a festival

J came back to London to vote - and every vote counted in our redrawn borough: we'd been removed from Hammersmith and Fulham, where the excellent Andy Slaughter has held a big majority, to Chelsea and Fulham. The Tories had always held sway in Chelsea, and it was only because I saw Labour folk out at the tube stations every day, including our new MP Ben Coleman, that 'we' won by a very slim  majority of 132. We stayed up until about 5.30am watching the results with our very politically savvy near neighbour Peter Rose, catching Rees-Mogg's defeat - managed with dignity - but missing the demise of Liz Truss - mismanaged with the opposite.

My mum's good friend Joy Teunion died recently after a fairly miserable last few years, and of course mum wanted to go to the funeral service in 'our' church, All Saints Banstead, the next day - her first outing from the brilliant Greenacres Care Home since pre-Christmas lunch; again, J wheeled her there. The service was a happy celebration of a quirky life, and refreshments were held afterwards in the Open Door, the cafe where until the middle of last year mum used to take her cakes. The jelly babies were a Joy favourite.

J had been due to return to Dublin on Monday evening, but we heard that Max's funeral - see here for a celebration of her wonderful but too brief existence - was to be held in Amsterdam on Tuesday. This meant some rapid rearrangements - I was due to leave for the Pärnu Music Festival on Wednesday - but I'm so glad we did it. 

I finished my Zoom class and we got an evening flight to Schiphol, staying there very comfortably in the Marriott with a view of sunset beyond the airport. Then after a hefty breakfast we made our way into town, walking across many of the canals to the Begijnhof, where the service took place in the English Reformed Church within the lovely grounds. Shrieking flocks of swifts marked part of the way (click to see them properly below).

It was a relief to see so many familiar faces and old friends afterwards, but by 3.30 we were off to get the bus back to the airport. A storm broke while we were both sitting in our respective planes - mine to Gatwick, J's to Dublin - and Schiphol was closed for an hour. But it didn't matter being later back because I'd been booked into another airport hotel - same price, but a mere pod - so that I wouldn't have to go home and back out again for the flight to Riga the next morning. A contrasting view at 7am.

Pärnu this year was a very different experience from 2023. Then I was feeling great, cycling, walking and swimming on the eve of the big operation, so supported by everyone in the meetings at the Passion Cafe. This year I was less mobile, and still mourning, so didn't do many of the big socials but was still glad to see familiar faces in ones, twos or threes. Best news of all was when married violinists Ben Baker and Marike Kruup met me for tea at my favourite cafe, Supelsaksad, with Lucy Maxwell-Stewart, the great organiser, and told me Maarike was expecting. It caught me emotionally by surprise - one life untimely gone, another coming into the world with the best parents imaginable.

Otherwise, the musical experiences were unforgettable as usual - I duly chronicled them for The Arts Desk - but somehow solitary walks in nature accorded more deeply with my mood. There was the nature reserve toward the southern end of the beach

where my Merlin app picked up golden oriole (saw a flash), dunlin, green sandpiper, reed and snow bunting and redshank, inter alia, and there was no end of pleasure to be got from terns soaring and plunging. One can just be seen at the top of this beach shot.

One evening I walked back from the concert hall with good friend and master photographic artist Kaupo Kikkas, left him to return to his hotel and continued to the stone jetty at the mouth of the Pärnu River. There were still some Baltic orchids in the sea meadows

huge flocks of starlings (you can just about make them out here)

and among the other birds a solitary Brent goose - last seen in big flocks in Dublin before they headed north for the summer.

The sunset that evening, in four days of variable but always warm weather, was the best.

The best was yet to come, a fortnight later, when I discovered an Estonian coastal resort further north, Haapsalu, and a very different music festival. More on the wonders of that place anon; here's the Arts Desk report in the meantime.

Mourning Max

There she is, with the radiant, open smile as always, the last time I saw her at the local cafe last October. Our beloved Max/Machteld Hopperus Buma died on 29 June, aged only 64. Wife of Nick Hills, J's good friend from Glyndebourne days, mother of J's godson Frank and of Charlie, nominally mine since another premature loss, and equally beloved of all of us. She packed more in to her too-short life than many ever do - an avid traveller (as KLM steward, and way beyond that) and photographer (so much will be documented, amen!). Perhaps the most empathetic person I've known other than J, curious about everything, adored equally by her two sisters Eline and Dorette, whom we've also got to know well over the years, and by so many others who packed the English Reformed Church in Amsterdam's beautiful Begijnhof last Tuesday.

The cover image sums up her vibrancy - on top of the world (the Edelweiss is an appropriate symbol) -

and her glamour is to the fore here in another photo within the order of service.

 KLM style, leaving home on the Sarphatipark

and with Nick and the boys at the Chiddingstone wedding, where J sang Gluck. 

The Amsterdam wedding party was unforgettable: we were met at the station by Eline and her then husband, taken around the canals by boat and joined another for the wedding reception. So many happy visits; the last was around one New Year, where we had a fun supper on the eve with friends of theirs in Scheveningen (we met again on Tuesday; I was so happy to see them again). Fun times in Max's higgledy-piggledy flat off Lange Leidse; a visit to welcome the firstborn

The next day I found I had chickenpox, but fortunately Frankie at that stage didn't catch it (our friend Jo in Brussels wanted her son, somewhat older, to get it, but he didn't either). Max was also a mover and shaker of Orkestival, the Dutch school orchestras competition at the Concertgebouw, no less, and got me along to help judge it (there are more photos of her in this blog entry). 

There were also shorter stays in Chiddingstone, Hills territory. 

No mum could be justifiably prouder than Max was (is) of Frankie and Charlie, who've grown up to be sensitive, kind, loving young men both, gifted in very different ways. One saving grace is that they're in their 20s now, and not younger; another, which I shared with Charlie on Tuesday, is their having had time before the end to say all the things they wanted (I remembered Oliver Sacks's partner saying how much laughter there was in the final stretch of his illness).

I was also glad to have regular WhatsApp exchanges with Max in the last three weeks. She sent me a treasurable message with these photos and others: 'Cornwall August '96. I am grateful for the wonderful walking days, the beauty of Cornwall you showed us [we actually started in Devon and crossed the border before reaching Morwenstow, ending at Crackington Haven]. Such a joy to think back on those very special days. Dorette, Charlie and I looked at the photos and a huge joy came over me. You swimming at Hartland Quay and the colourful heather we climbed up to reach the hotel. So many dear memories. I cherish those days with you. A year later was the arrival of Frank'.

(A fuller shot of our last meeting).

Joy, then, to nearly the end (I hate to think of the pain, which I thought could be avoided - or so Nell, the first friend I lost to cancer, told me). It will, as Nick's address put it, be fascinating to see how Max now lives on with us.

Orkestival 2017: back to the Concertgebouw

I was delighted to be asked back to serve on the jury of this annual Dutch school orchestras festival - only nominally a competition - and as chairman, no less. Slightly overparted, I feel, as my colleagues this year were not only, once again, the brilliant violinist Jeroen de Groot - how brilliant has become clearer in the interim from hearing his Bach CDs - but also two other high-level instrumentalists: international cellist Larissa Groeneveld, whose disc of Zemlinsky, von Brucken Fock (no, me neither) and Dohnányi with pianist Frank van de Laar I look forward to hearing, and Royal Concertgebouw trombonist Nico Schippers, who also rewarded me with two splendid discs featuring the orchestra's brass ensemble.

We were very happy to be joined in our backstage discussions by the genial and obviously very hard-working Gerda Hoekstra, director of the Stichting het Zelfstandig Gymnasium. The title should explain that though the Netherlands is without what we'd call public or private schools, in national terms at any rate, the participants drawn from the 40 top schools tend to be among the high achievers. The mix consequently isn't that representative of multi-kulti Holland. Well, that's the way it is, being under such auspices at any rate. The musical standard, even so, varies, as do the types of ensembles featured. I set most of this up in last year's account, so, with a preliminary shot of myself with (left to right) Gerda, Larissa, Nico and Jeroen,

let's follow the same format I used in 2016 and give what I hope will be helpful notes about each of the orchestras. We actually did this between the three of us in the summing-up speeches up, but as that was divided, these are my personal opinions - though we were mostly in agreement. Not least about the clear winner, which has to come first -

Aulos, Praedinius Gymnasium, Groningen And what a difference a year makes. In 2016 they were, to be honest, the least inspired of the bunch - though the most charming afterwards, when they asked me about their Handel 'if we had let off real fireworks, would we have got more points?' To which I answered with that assumed sagacity of someone appointed judge, 'the point is to put more fireworks in your playing'. Last year's messages about communication - with the proviso I made this year, that I know it's difficult to show you're enjoying yourselves if you have to concentrate on playing the notes - seem to have paid off. Aulos's programme was perfect. It started with an ideal novelty act, Leroy Anderson's The Typewriter (why aren't more of this witty tunesmith's pieces played by youth orchestras?) A boy who was clearly a born actor operated an invention which neither he nor any of his contemporaries are likely to have used before (I stopped using my electric typewriter in 1986). Another rang the bell. The cross rhythms and hiccoughs aren't easy, but they all did it perfectly. Then there was a really lovely piece composed by the horn-player, Daniël Apol, who I snapped in the finale (that's him on the left below).

Not only was Apol's Romance a gem, but we also suddenly heard real phrasing - not common in Orkestival. Full marks to the music teacher/conductor, Jorien Elout. She also had the inspired idea of bringing in players from the other orchestra in that segment of the day, Mercator et Musica from the splendid town of 's-Hertogenbosch - more on them below - in a wittily compiled fantasia on Bizet's Carmen by Eijk Suzuki: unexpected, concise and taking a leaf out of Shchedrin's Carmen ballet in its use of tuned percussion. So all told, a winning formula: wit, lyricism, originality, panache and collegiality.

Taking the rest chronologically, let's go back to the beginning with Group 1, kicking off with Coornhert Gymnasium, Gouda. The teacher needed to conduct with a bit more spirit, and it was a shame the lively percussion used in an Abba medley weren't engaged for the Radetzky March. The revelation here was 17-year-old soprano Annecke de Hoop singing Pamina's 'Ach,ich fühl's' from Die Zauberflöte. A polished technique already, though the pace should have been set faster for her and while I know the conductor had to keep his eye on his players, once he realised his singer was likely to come in early or late, he needed to cue here. But no doubt about it, she was the individual standout of the day. Unfortunately Coornhert outstayed their time and welcome - should have dropped the Grease selection; 'Dancing Queen' had already left us happy enough.

Murmellius Gymnasium, Alkmaar made a mistake by starting with Fauré's Pavane, and those loud string passages in the middle are really tricky. Again it was the teacher's job to set it flowing, and to hell with the wrong notes. Can't say I remember much about the other two pieces. They seem to have lost the inspirational music master who helped them to win the 'promising' category last year with a clapping piece.

Vossius Gymnasium, Amsterdam always has the biggest advantage in terms of size and training; they gave the strongest purely classical programme last year and had won several times before that. Coen Stuit got a terrific performance from them, overall the most polished, of songs and dances (not the symphonic ones) from Bernstein's West Side Story. Quite an impressive string sound here, I think you'll agree, since Vossius has been quick off the mark to put up a film on YouTube (not in the same league as the professional one excerpted for the Ode to Joy below, which I think covered everything, but this will do).

Less good was Haydn's Overture to Lo Speziale: much too heavy for an curtainraiser to an opera buffa. But still, an ambitious choice. And wonderful to watch the enthusiasm not just in performing but also in reacting when he wasn't playing of timpanist Omar Beganovic - I think I've got the right name there, but in summing up I simple called him 'cool dude'. That's him on the drumkit for the Bernstein.

Group 2 Aulos followed Mercator et Musica, Stedelijk Gymnasium, 's-Hertogenbosch. They could have done with more contrast, and the repetitive theme of Jacob de Haan's Concerto d'amore was really rather boring. There were some fine solos in Alexis Ciesla's Balkan Groove, though, even if not enough was made of the groove itself.  M&M can also share part of the prize, too, for fielding soloists in Aulos's Carmen selection.

A quick lunch in the Concertgebouw canteen, staffed by extremely pleasant people - as is the entire hall.

Group 3 Euterpe, Stedelijk Gymnasium, Arnhem fielded a star treble last year, and a good one this year, giving us the novelty of a boy as Mozart's Cherubino with 'Voi che sapete' from Le nozze di Figaro. Sang it accurately but - big ask - needed to express something of what it was about. Otherwise, a very impressive programme began superbly with Corelli's Concerto Grosso Op. 6 No. 8. The first violinist had professional poise, and there was a real surprise when we heard the solo tone of the young lad sitting next to her: beautiful (if I'm not mistaken this is the same who sang so amazingly as last year's star soloist, Casper Jeukendrup). Quite enjoyed Tijuana Taxi but the awkwardly filleted Capriccio Espagnol didn't have a hint of elan. In the only slight lack of agreement between us jury members, the decision was taken to give the runner-up prize to Euterpe, but as I understood it was really supposed to be for the group who showed the biggest promise, I would have unhesitatingly have given it to

Panta Musica, Johan de Wit Gymnasium, Dordrecht Last year they began virtually from scratch with a charming, oddball ensemble. How it had grown this time, enough for them to begin with a clever guide to the orchestral departments in carefully chosen snippets. And what I loved best about their engaging Dudamelesque mentor-conductor Saul de Caluwé was that he went not for a David Stone-style 'classics for schools' arrangement but the WHOLE of Saint-Saëns's Danse Macabre which, even if it was almost beyond their abilities, the group got through intact.Always happy to hear any version of Piazzolla's Libertango too.

Gymnasium Haganum, The Hague had another would-be charmer in charge, but I never quite worked out what Piet Raphael was playing at, gurning occasionally when he would have done better to keep his eye on the ball. The teacher should never become the centre of attention. And they deserved better. But we all enjoyed a 'Hey Jude' singalong at the end.

The poster, by the way, is also the result of a competition - the winning entry is by Eva Versteeg from Gymnasium Haganum. The theme - maybe it was made clear by presenters Adda van Zanden and Rikkert van Huisstede, but my Dutch isn't up to it - was 'Met een Twist', 'With a Twist', that apparently also having the connotation in the language of strife or conflict. Which some orchestras carried through, others seemingly didn't.

Group 4 Gymnasium Celeanum, Zwolle introduced a novelty in the form of bagpiper Cees Scholten, but as he wasn't one of the kids, the effect was slightly marred (and the orchestra only got to join in briefly). Good to see that the dayglo pitched thwackies known as 'boomwhackers' made a special appearance for a more aptly novel treatment of the James Bond theme. Personally I rather liked the Muppet Show tune to end, though my colleagues were a bit sniffier about it.

Big Band Stedelijk Gymnasium, Nijmegen still needed a bit more swing, as we noted last year. There was a rather interesting kid who made impressive sound effects, but the amplification went awry again for the talented vocalists. The mikes need testing, if it's possible, so that they don't scupper good intentions.

Last but certainly not least, last year's winners Christelijk Gymnasium Beyers Naudé, Leeuwarden. Even if Aulos hadn't come up with such a brilliant trio of entertainments our champions wouldn't have cut it this year simply because their programme was lacking in variety. But now that the red-headed violinist who made such an impression last year has moved on, all eyes were on Jorn Stavenga, the trumpeter who was the true leader, capping a brass sound that's absolutely gorgeous to hear (trombones shone at one point). For that we have the brass band tradition in Friesland - where nearly everyone, it seems, is blond - to thank. She spoke to me afterwards to thank me for last year, I returned the compliment for this one. Very focused, is going on to study conducting, and I'm sure she'll do well.

Final break, quick summing-up backstage and then on for the grand finale. First came the results of inspirational Mirjam van Dam's group voice coaching. They'd only allocated half an hour for the whole thing, but I still insisted that we all got to speak to give encouragement to each group. Got applause for starting with a bit of Dutch, but it all went a bit quiet when I said how good it was to be back just after the Dutch people had made the right choice in the election. Maybe you don't raise politics, but there was an important link to be made between Coen's choice of the Ode to Joy aka the European Anthem - we will be standing for it at the Europe Day concert on 9 May - and the pride we feel in being united in Europe against populist bigots like Wilders.

From then on it all went swimmingly, until I was so flustered by being pinched - I kid you not - to get on with it (I wasn't rambling, but I was determined to make the points I'd intended) that at first I announced the wrong winner. Pure Oscars moment; I think it was taken in the right spirit. Confusion absolved, there were more speeches, and then Coen conducted the Beethoven. Kudos to the superior film work here.

He's planning a Brexit concert with ironic takes on various pieces - The Lark Ascending is the UK flying away, though as a passionate fellow-European he certainly doesn't think that's a good thing.

We retired to the very characterful bar behind the Concertgebouw. Nico told me it's the favourite haunt of the brass and many of the older players - the younger ones tend to go round the corner. Anyway, the sun shone in the midst of a cold snap, we sat out, my hosts Machteld and Nick (centre back; sorry the sun has all but obliterated Coen's face) turned up along with Adda (second from the left), we moved into the shelter,

Rikkert and Adda's co-organiser Jitske joined us,  and a select party went off for supper since this time there wasn't a concert in the evening. A happy day, fired up by youthful enthusiasm and dedication. I took away a lovely bunch of tulips, but assuming they wouldn't get through airport security the following day, left them with my hosts after our lunch at Keukenhof Manor.

Estonia's first spring flower

This is Hepatica nobilis, known by us rather unpoetically for such a beauty as liver leaf or crystal wort and by Estonians simply as 'blue flower', my friend Andres Kaljuste told me. He has a place on the Lohusalu peninsula not far from Laulasmaa, Arvo Pärt's preferred retreat since he and his wife Nora returned to their beloved homeland from Berlin, bringing all their stuff with them. A new home for that abundance of material was why, on a second visit to Estonian Music Days, Tallinn's big spring festival of new music, a happy band of us were taken to see work on the new Arvo Pärt Centre, to a glorious design of glass and wood by the winning Spanish architects, close to the retreat. Hence one of several photos of Hepatica in the nearby forest.

This isn't the time and place to expand on the trip - I have yet to write up the experience of four fabulous days for The Arts Desk, as I did last year - but a few more nature perspectives in Laulasmaa might not go amiss. From the room at Aliina (for so the house is called, after the first piece Pärt wrote following his long official silence) with a piano,

downwards to one of many lichens on the ground,

and upwards to the larches (note the crane creeping into the picture - that area will be partly cleared, but there's a fine fusion promised between design and nature).

On our way to Laulasmaa, we stopped for a short wander along the cliff above Dagmar Beach.

Here there was no cold wind, and the bushes were more advanced than elsewhere in their budding.

Even so, inland looked forbidding beneath massed clouds.

The spring which had burst in London was not even incipient in Tallinn, where snowdrops still flourish in clumps beneath the tower of Pikk (Tall) Hermann.

This was just before 7pm on my first evening, heading from the hotel to the Niguliste Museum for the first concert along a memorable road I'd not taken before. Moon was up.

With only shoots on the trees, you could still catch atmospheric glimpses of old buildings like Kiek in de Kök.

Been an exhausting week-plus. I returned from Estonia last Sunday night, had only half a day at home to catch up on some work and flew - eventually, since non-running Gatwick Express trains made me miss my first flight - to Amsterdam for a second stint - as Chairman, this time - judging Dutch school orchestras in the Concertgebouw for Orkestival 2017. More on that anon: as with last year, I owe each of the spirited groups of participants a few helpful notes. Flowers remain the theme here, so here's our dear friend Machteld driving me in convoy with her sister Eline, my now-godson Charlie and beloved lapdog Johnny past tulip fields, a spectacular sight even on a grey day.

The excursion followed a leisurely morning at and around mein hosts' home in the Sapharti Park, recorded at a different time elsewhere.

Now the park was green, white and pink

with tulips growing around the monument.

Eline had the inspiration that we should go for lunch in the farmhouse of Keukenhof Manor, a road and a quiet world away from the coaches and cars parked around the famous gardens. It was a delightful interlude, made all the more memorable by our jovial waitress who joined us for a photo outside. I like the slightly chaotic and not entirely flattering spontaneity of this one, which gives us more than li'l Johnny's rear.

There was only time for a quick spin around the grounds as the rain began,

and a glimpse of the sweet old thatched cottage hired out for private functions,

before walking past the last of the magnolias

back to the car for the whizz to the airport. In light of what followed - one and a half hours of unannounced flight delay, then no trains at Luton Airport station, so bus, train, tube - it was an ideal tonic.

Finally, full bloom ahead at Chelsea Physic Garden on the first open Sunday of the year.

Here's a range of exotic Mediterranean and Turkish tulips

 

the tiniest of narcissi,

early peonies incipient

and one out

as well as the annual blossoming of the Judas Tree

and of the Paulownia lilacensis.

Today's at home for Good Friday, maybe an excursion to Westminster Abbey for 3pm liturgy, and reflection around the (eventually) revelatory Dvořák Requiem I've just reviewed: writing a note on Beethoven's Missa Solemnis for the Scottish Chamber Orchestra and listening to Bach yesterday proved perfect preparation.

17/4 Thought the below was a nice addendum, sent to me by Andres' partner Sophia. They're back at Lohusalu for Easter, though all is not entirely tranquil: the building mania that is plaguing the Estonian coast east of Tallinn is threatening an unwelcome addition on the peninsula. Corruption is not unknown in that mostly admirable little country...  Anyway, this is how it was over the weekend - sun and snow.