Paris II


Le Train Bleu, Gare de Lyon

I shunned the hotel free-for-all in favour of a lonely breakfast in the splendour of the Train Bleu. From there I could see dawn rising pinkly under the station canopies.

Yesterday evening’s recital at the Bastille Opera was a pleasant surprise. The tenor, Stanislas Barbeyrac, had a voice that caught you somewhere between the heart and the tear ducts. The songs were all of lost love or yearning or just ineffable sadness – including “Down by the Salley Gardens”. I have the programme so can spend my   l o n g   train journey today translating the poems.

It’s beautiful day, and from my hotel window the patch of sky that I can see looks rather like one of the Train Bleu’s murals. I see that it is 17 degrees in Valencia. Yippee!!!

Postscript:  I did get round to looking at the recital programme again. I wanted to check my recollection of Britten’s setting of Louis Macniece’s “Cradle Song” being rather Porgy and Bess – particularly after the folk-song simplicity of “Salley Gardens”.

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