Gathering

Finding we had hotel vouchers about to expire at the end of the year, we thought about how to make the most of them. We hit upon a concert at the Royal Festival Hall with Mahler’s 1st symphony on the programme and without giving it much further thought, booked ourselves tickets and splashed most of those vouchers on a single night at a (very) grand hotel.

We drove up on Friday, taking a different route into Westminster from our usual one and were staggered by the sheer numbers of people everywhere.

Come on, it’s a Friday in November. The Christmas rush hasn’t begun yet and it’s not a holiday! We were reminded of why we couldn’t live here and just knew that, much as we love the city, we’d be eager to escape home when the time came.

We checked into our hotel and as we did, noticed those steps just at the end of the road, leading to the bridge over the river and direct access to the Royal Festival Hall. How convenient is that?!

After a short “ooh” and “aah” as we took a look around our fabulous (upgraded) corner room, we headed out in search of a late lunch. Locatelli’s in the National Gallery across Trafalgar Square hit the spot and as we dodged the tourists and the traffic, we thought back to the first time we met right here by one of the lions: we’d not known each other long and I hadn’t told my hero-in-waiting that I was afraid of birds 🫣

Later, we set out far earlier than we needed to the concert, but enjoyed the time to take photos and savour the wonderful views from the westerly side of the bridge.

We were excited to be here. Though I’d not been here before, my Hero used to come to the hall occasionally when he was living in Kent, from where it was an easy train journey. But that had been quite a few years - decades - ago! As the hall filled, we chatted to a German couple sitting in front of us, from Augsburg no less, which meant we had plenty to chat about!

The first item on the programme was Beethoven’s 4th Piano Concerto, played by Alice Sara Ott, about whom I had been reading just a couple of days previously. She’s quite a character; she came on stage barefoot, wearing bright red and proceeded to give a wonderful performance to a very receptive audience. For her encore, instead of the usual barnstorming final flourish, she addressed the audience quietly, acknowledging the joy of being part of a large audience sitting, listening to music like this. She returned to the piano and played Für Alina by Arvo Pärt, “the composer who made silence sing”. It was quite remarkable, for not a soul stirred; a wonderful example of collective peace. I recalled reading something a while back about a collective silence being more intense, the greater the number of people present and, if an example were needed, here it was.

I hadn’t expected to be quite so bowled over by the first half, for it was really the Mahler that I couldn’t wait to hear. I’d not heard this symphony live since I played it with the Hull Youth Orchestra when I was a teenager, but it had made such a spectacular impression on me then that I still remember almost every note. We returned to the hall after the interval to see an orchestra maybe twice the size of the one we’d heard earlier and it was clear, we were going to be treated to the full works here. Karina Canellakis had been on top form during that first half, but was surely going to need every skill in the orchestral conductor’s handbook to direct such a large number of musicians.

From the first notes to the very last one, it was absolutely magical and so powerful. It certainly brought more than one tear to my eye.

If there’d been a collective silence earlier, then the applause that followed was at the opposite end of the scale. We’d heard a magnificent piece of music played wonderfully and clearly, we weren’t the only ones to appreciate it. Our German friends agreed and we said our Auf Wiedersehens with the music still ringing in our heads. It had been a fantastic evening; most certainly one we’ll remember for a very long time.

We returned to the hotel along the easterly side of the bridge and enjoyed the view of the City as we went, appreciating the opportunity to decompress and with the music still in our heads.

The arch of Charing Cross station was illuminated in red, because it’s Remembrance weekend and as we reached the hotel, we realised that we were in the midst of all the preparations for the Cenotaph ceremony on Sunday morning.

We were returning home on Saturday however, and as we waited for our car, I noticed this memorial on the pavement opposite the hotel entrance. I found out later, it’s the memorial to the members of the Royal Tank Regiment. On Sunday morning it will be surrounded by poppies, without a doubt.

After such an exhilarating overnight stay, we were pleased of a quiet Saturday afternoon with the papers.

My eyes fell on this article by Enuma Okoro who I think frequently captures the spirit of the moment. This time, one of her first references was to an artwork of Peder Kroyer, he of the Skagen group of artists, whose work has become a firm favourite with us. He’s the creator of one of my favourite images, that of two women (his wife, Marie and Anna, wife of his friend and colleague Michael Ancher) strolling along the beach at sunset. This article referenced another of his works, “A luncheon. The artist, his wife and the writer Otto Benzon”, observing the depth of the conversation and the value of sitting around a table with friends like that.

Her article goes on to discuss other, similar situations and the enjoyment of gathering with friends, “just for the pleasure of sharing musical talents or engaging collectively in art”. I nodded my head as I read, for it all seemed to reinforce our recent experience so well and I looked forward to next weekend all the more, when we’ll enjoy being with dear friends, probably sitting around a table just like in the painting, chatting and enjoying music together.

I couldn’t have put it better.