The week that was

You can never accuse me of having a one-track mind.  Regular readers (not that there ARE any readers, regular or otherwise) will know that I have many interests: music, politics, death and fitba’. Well, today, I shall pass comment on all four. Oh, you lucky devils.

Three words guaranteed to strike fear into the hearts of tens, nay hundreds, of thousands: Inverness. Caledonian. Thistle. Yes, time for yet another cup-tie against our northern nemesis. Not only have we come off worse against them in the cup on two occasions, but last season’s league challenge also foundered on those rocks; not on that Wednesday night in May, but way back on the 27^th of November 2010, the Saturday that the snow fell, the Saturday we scored two wonderful goals but went home with a 2-2 draw. What would fate have in store this time?

Last Sunday, in the League Cup, an unconvincing Celtic side saw off Steven Pressley’s spirited Falkirk bairns (see what I did there?) on the hallowed (ahem) Hampden turf. Scott Brown’s first-half penalty was the only difference between the sides at the interval. Anthony Stokes scored a superb free kick early in the second-half, before some bloke who got sold to Huddersfield a couple of days later scored for Falkirk. Hooper and Stokes linked up to provide Celtic’s third late on, making it look more comfortable than it really was. Job done, and on to another Cup Final, when fans of Kilmarnock will get a wee day out in the Metropolis.

Scotland is turning out to be a popular tourist destination: no, not for ex-pats from Oz and Canada, or whisky lovers from the Far East, but for Labour politicians who, rather than oppose Tory policies at Westminster, would rather come up here and tell us how to vote. On Monday, we were treated to a lecture from Ed Miliband, the worst Labour leader since, well, the last one. According to him (the man who couldn’t even name the third of three contenders for the Scottish leadership of his party), the ‘…United Kingdom is better for the working people of Scotland, and better for the working people of the United Kingdom as a whole’. I’m sure that the working people of Scotland, and those who used to work, think very highly of the Union, and of Margaret Thatcher and David Cameron and their ilk. As if that wasn’t funny enough, we had a visit from Ed Balls, the Shadow Chancellor. Now, Big Ed was either one of the architects of Bankrupt Britain or a man so in thrall to Gordon Brown that he couldn’t tell him he was buggering up the country’s finances. Either way, he can’t be trusted. Yes, his hand gestures during PMQs are source of amusement and, yes, he’s a nice guy who likes football, but what the hell was he doing in Scotland last week? Making naan bread. Talk about fiddling while Rome burns.

The Transfer Window closed at 23:00h on Tuesday and all was quiet on that front down Parkhead way. James Keatings, Lewis Toshney and Paul Slane went out on loan, Efrain Juarez and Morten Rasmussen came back and Glenn Loovens and Georgios Samaras came out of the closet (not like that). Four new players were acquired but, as none of them have names I can spell or pronounce, they will not be mentioned. Apparently, a ‘big striker’ was being sought. They cost a lot of money. We have some, unlike another Glasgow club, who sold theirs and tried to buy someone they could never afford. Apparently, his manager said that, if Celtic had been in for him, he’d have driven him up here himself.

Tuesday night is still rehearsal night, for the moment, and I continue to do it justice. If I’d known we were going to be out for a sectional with our clarinet guru, I may have practiced, at least once, but I’m as good a seer as I am a clarinettist. The threatened return of ‘Colas Breugnon’ has yet to become reality. Thank God.

Back to the Merchant City on Thursday, this time to see how the big boys do it. It was absolutely baltic outside, and I was feeling a bit sniffly, so I wasn’t expecting the evening to go well. However, trust the BBC SSO to come up with a hot toddy to banish the winter blues. I can’t remember if I’ve seen the back of Donald Runnicles’ head this season, but there he was, and there they were, and, lo, so was Steven Isserlis. It was a game of two halves, with the final score Debussy 2, Ravel 4. In the first half, we were treated to ‘La mer’ followed by the ‘Suite for Cello and Orchestra’, the latter a lost work reconstructed by Sally Beamish (no, don’t switch off). Half time arrived, and I wondered if I’d be fit enough to sit through the second half. The City Halls was like an oven, and I was being slowly roasted.

Isserlis returned with a cut-down orchestra to play two short pieces by Maurice Ravel: 'Deux melodies hebraiques' (arranged by Richard Tognetti) and 'Une barque sur l’ocean'. What do you mean you want me to go and find all those stupid wee things? No, I’m not doing it. Anyway, I digress, as usual. The rest of the band came back on for ‘Valse nobles et sentimentales’, which had a lot of false endings, and ‘La Valse’, which was as loud as I warned the nervous, handsome young gentleman who had the misfortune to sit next to me that it would be. The post-concert coda was a delicious duet performance by Isserlis and Runnicles (on piano) of two short pieces by Glazunov: ‘Melodie and Serenade Espagnole, Op. 20’ and ‘Chant du menestrel, Op. 71’. Honourable mention must go to MC Jamie MacDougall, who managed to behave himself on live radio. That man should have a show of his own. What do you mean he does?

It was even colder outside on Friday night, and Kilmardinny House was just as warm as the City Halls had been. The penultimate recital for this season featured Kate McDermott on clarinet, accompanied by the dishy James Willshire. Apparently, the audience was full of clarinettists, but I spotted a flute player and an oboeist (is that even a word?). Anyway, the new Principal Clarinet of the Gothenburg Opera Orchestra delighted the assembled throng with her well-chosen programme, designed to impress the neutrals and frighten the bejesus out of anyone who has ever had the inclination to take up that particular instrument.

Opening with the tame, by comparison, ‘Sonata for clarinet and piano’ by Leonard Bernstein, she moved on to ‘Introduction, Theme and Variations’ by Rossini. I’m sure she played some notes in there that they don’t have in any of the clarinet books. She followed this with a beautiful piece written for the composer’s brother who died in the Great War, ‘Pastoral’ by Arthur Bliss. They adjourned for the interval after ‘Le Tombeau de Ravel’, influenced by ‘La Valse’ by, erm, Ravel. I don’t just throw these blogs together, you know.

This month’s Spotlight performer was pianist Penny Watson from Douglas Academy Music School, who played ‘Reverie’ by Debussy. I say played. She moved her hands up and down the keyboard a lot, but I’m not convinced she touched any keys. Extraordinary! Kate and James returned and opened the second half with ‘Drei Romanzen, Op. 94’ by Schumann. They followed this with something called ‘Peregi Verbunk’ by a Hungarian composer called Leo Weiner. Next, ‘From Galloway’, an extract from a larger work by James MacMillan. I needn’t have worried. It was OK. The recital ended with Joseph Horovitz’s ‘Sonatina for Clarinet and Piano’. I particularly liked the jazzy third movement. It was over all too soon, and I left for home, having resolved to sell my clarinet and buy some tropical fish.

And so to the Scottish Cup: a much-changed Celtic side went into battle with ICT at the Tulloch Caledonian Stadium for a place in the Quarter-Final of the grand old tournament. Celtic came out on top thanks to a goal in each half; a corker from Georgios Samaras, one he’d miss nine hundred and ninety-nine times out of a thousand, and another penalty from Scott Brown, whose goalscoring exploits in the last two weeks are making him look as prolific as the Greek. At this rate, Broony may even overtake Sammy. A successful outcome but, unfortunately, we have to play them again next week.

It’ll soon be time for dinner, and then half of the weekend will be gone. Someone appears to have bid my anxious fears subside this week: Sally Beamish, James MacMillan and Inverness Caledonian Thistle have all have all been negotiated with consummate ease, though, to be fair, none were at their most frightening. But it’s not all joy, joy, joy. In the style of News at Ten, here’s an ‘..and finally’.

Earlier this week, the death was announced of Ricky the chimpanzee from Edinburgh Zoo. He was believed to be 50 years old. I wonder if his eyesight and hearing were failing, or if he had wonky knees, arthritic fingers and toes, a weak bladder and the inability to suffer fools gladly. As I type, he’ll be up in heaven with as many bananas and cups of PG Tips as he can cope with, whilst the rest of us have to soldier on, pretending that everything is fine and we love being here. Enjoy your rest, Ricky, you lucky, lucky bastard.