Tonight's attempt to see Swan Lake at the War Memorial Opera House was a bust. Nicki and I were thrilled that we'd actually purchased decent seats for once and were envisioning a most glamorous evening ahead. However, we discovered at Will Call that the tickets I'd reserved in the Dress Circle had actually been for last night's performance. I had to fork over, reluctantly and with a few unsuccessful attempts at tearful manipulation, an additional $20 (on top of the $108 I'd already spent) for nose bleed seats in the very back of the house. (If you've been to WM, you know that the Balcony seats are pretty steep.)
Once the performance started, I forgot where I was and found myself drawn into the enchanted world of Prince Siegfried's magnificently costumed court. One of the male soloists, in fact, was so enthrallingly energetic that I felt my pulse racing. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to me, Nicki had become ill and the uncomfortable temperature in the back of the house rendered her close to fainting. No smelling salts handy (as not in Bath, not in the 18th century), we decided to forgo the ballet and head to A Clean Well-Lighted Place for Books where I walked around forlornly with a copy of Julian Barnes' England, England, which I eventually put back because of my new resolution to try not to spend more money than I make. Speaking of ballet, do you remember Six Weeks?
Comments