Showing posts with label ballet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ballet. Show all posts

20130110

Thursday January 26, 1978

Australia Day
 Republic Day (India)

 It snowed again. It seems to snow every Thursday.

Some final decisions on the summer holiday were taken. The Hotel S'Estanyol is a definite now and all concerned are falling into line.

We received our National Savings Certificates with the wages. One hundred pounds! Haven't I done well?

Martyn phoned to discuss the holiday. He and Tony were out last night 'living it up' with a couple of birds. ________.

Mrs Rawnsley's mother is on her death bed at 60. ________.

Oh, CB phoned at 3:00 o'clock. She and Mary are coming to see me at the Fox tomorrow. It was so good to hear her and it's marvellous to know she'll be at Naomi's 21st. I have been slightly worried about Naomi's party, what with His Reverence and the necessary cucumber sandwiches, but now I know that CB will be giggling loudly in some central position I can heave a sigh of contentment.

Watched TV tonight. Saw a documentary on the Ballet Rambert which was excellent. I'm fastly becoming a ballet fan, you know. I find the movement and athletic ability tremendous.

Pete, Sue, Chippy and Gus came in at eleven. I pity the poor Hotel S'Estanyol.

-=-

20121203

Tuesday November 22, 1977

To the Grand (Theatre) with Sarah at 7:30 to see 'Swan Lake' performed by the Royal Festival Ballet. Barbara Wheeler and her dear, sweet daughter, Beverley, sat nearby but Barbara had an attack of the leaks and left in the middle of the second act. I really enjoyed it. _________. The music especially was superb. Don't ask me the name of the principal participants but one thing's for sure - they were all Europeans. Ever heard of a ballerina with a name like Ethel Jones? All in all it was a success but the closing scene was not what I was expecting. The prince and the swan are supposed to drown in the lake, aren't they? Yes, I thought so too, but in this version they were carried aloft to heaven on the back of a dirty great duck. Sarah hated it and did nothing but moan. We came home on the bus at 10:30. A cold, nasty night.

-=-

Saturday May 5, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds Poor Diana Dors has run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. Aged 52, she has suffered from cancer. We laz...