Friday, 24 June 2011

Ouch.  OUCH!  Certain members of the orchestra here have FAR too good an aim when equipped with the pointy ends of a whole damned bunch of roses...

It being the last operatic performance here of the outgoing music director, the orchestra celebrated by "spontaneously" chucking flowers onstage (we had been warned beforehand about "spontaneously" picking them up and handing them to the conductor - this is Germany, remember?).  I know they love her - she's a wonderful musician - so the spontaneity was heartfelt.  Wonderful!   However I couldn't help noticing how many smothered giggles wafted up from the pit when yet another rose landed smack in the middle of my cleavage... In the costumes we had, it was probably unavoidable, mind, when leaning down to collect fallen greenery.  Cannot blame the brass section...   (Although I really, really want to.)

It will be sad, I think, not to have such a constant connection with the orchestra.  However, I have had two years to get to know individuals, and that doesn't disappear.  Indeed, when I get back after the summer, I am pretty sure I have a couple of revenge strikes to plan.  It is Not Done to lob scratchy flowers back down into the pit once they've got you.  Doesn't mean one can't do weasel-planning to get one's own back in a different way eventually. HaHA!


  1. The closest I can come to identifying with your experience is when I played a villainess in a melodrama and was pelted with "tomatoes" made of crepe paper and tissue stuffing.

    This adventure with roses sounds so much more lovely and elegant and your writing so aptly helps us to be there with you enjoying it!

  2. Re-fill their Karmex pots with Ben-Gay.