Do you ever feel you've done a lot but achieved very little? As much as I enjoy going out, when there's a lot to be done at home (some of it interesting and valuable, most of it practical but tedious), going out three times in two days means that virtually nothing can be crossed off the to-do list.
Since the recent bout of ill health, sleep has been neither plentiful nor regular, so tiredness and irritability have been the order of the day. I can't help thinking that yesterday would have been more productive had I got out of bed at 7 and tackled a few long-neglected chores. Instead, I sat around and read a couple of things, dispensed some wit and wisdom on Facebook and Twitter and stared into space, until I was forced to leap up like a scalded cat and get ready to go out. I had left it too late to head for Tesco on the way into town so I went straight to my usual parking spot and then the railway station. I took the train to Queen Street and headed for Breakfast at Debenhams (as I type, I am playing a recording of the BBS SSO Proms Last Night from Dundee thing, just at the point where the orchestra and amateur choir perform "Moon River" from "Breakfast at Tiffany's"). Enough with the serendipity, already!
On exiting the lift at the 5th floor, I wondered if I hadn't, in fact, stepped forward in time some three months. There was a display of Christmas goods and an ambient temperature reminiscent of Winter. The food wasn't much warmer, but I ate it, nonetheless. I left with indecent haste for my next port of call; the Britannia Panopticon.
To cut a long story short, it was Glasgow's Doors Open Day. A few years ago, one of the star attractions of this annual architectural excuse for a nosey in normally private buildings was a disused Variety theatre above one of those horrendous leather jacket shops near (the former) C&A in Argyle Street. This came as a revelation to me but not as much as finding out that this was the venue where a young Arthur Stanley Jefferson and, later, a young Alexander Archibald Leach made their stage debuts; Stan Laurel and Cary Grant to you and me. The theatre has been undergoing what someone called 'slow restoration' ever since, but yesterday was my first visit. I hope to go back next week for an example of the good old days.
After a few hours of downtime back at home, I headed out again, this time to the City Halls for one of those nights with the BBC SSO, the nights where they do something different from a bog-standard orchestra; playing along to Alfred Hitchcock's 'Psycho'. Now, up-front, I don't like the film. I'd only seen it once before, as far as I know, and it didn't do anything for me. That was nearly 30 years ago, but I know from other things that my taste has changed with age. Well, not this time. I still don't like it, but I was impressed with how the orchestra seamlessly integrated with the film, helped by John Wilson, of course. I returned home to watch Doctor Who, more enjoyable and interesting than 'Psycho', and a lot more thought-provoking.
I got up a bit earlier this morning, and did two weeks' worth of ironing. The day couldn't get any worse after that, believe me. Another rush to the Merchant City followed and another wonderful performance from the BBC SSO beckoned. The full orchestra and more were shoe-horned on to the stage for two hours of music by Bernard Herrmann and others and although the place wasn't packed out this time, the reception Mr. Wilson and the band got was just as loud and just as warm as Saturday's.
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