Sleepwalking

This was what I saw when I wandered out of the Opera House after an evening with Vincenzo Bellini (deceased), giddy from the soaring, shrill trilling and swooping of superhuman singers. The sight of the beautiful bridge spanning the shimmering water was a perfect end to a perfect evening.

As you may know, I am only a beginner opera goer, with just 6 hours of Wagner under my belt. It is a pleasure I have not been able to afford previously, opera like ballet, being so expensive to produce. Apart from the breath-taking principal artistes: a betrothed couple, a jealous ex, a rakish count and a distraught foster-mother, there was a full chorus of gossiping villagers, active participants in the unfolding scandal, all dressed in period costume of the 1900s. I warmed to the nostalgic sight the umbrellas which, in Act III, the Italian villagers took with them when they set off through the forest to pay the Count a visit so they could check out whether or not he had compromised the virtue of the sleepwalking bride-to-be when he had stayed at the inn on the eve of her marriage. You will be glad to know that her honour was saved when the count spoke up for her, but only just as the groom was off on his way to church with an alternative. All ended happily (except for the reserve bride who was dumped for a second time). But even she shrugged and kissed the bride. They just don't write stories like that any more.

Despite the definite resemblance of the Opera House foyer to a municipal car park, the auditorium is pretty impressive with its huge canopy and the seats are the best I have ever sat in. The orchestra pit stretches far back beneath the stage and it all sounded perfect. Too perfect really. The night time scenes were so dark, the voices so rich and the seats so comfy ......I only missed a few bits. I think.