Too Many Notes

Water, water, everywhere but not a drop to drink. You can’t see the forest for the trees. Where there is no vision, the people perish. Etcetera, Etcetera. In a breath-taking act of what I can only call vandalism, the owners of Leicester FC sacked Claudio Ranieri. Even in the low-expectations world of football, this managed to plumb new depths in human perfidy. Having done the impossible in coaching the players into a Premier League championship last year, he was rewarded by being given the sack because he has not been able to achieve the impossible two years in a row. The plodding packhorses of Leicester, having found themselves in the dream world of the Premier League began to see themselves as the Great I Am, in a league populated by racehorses.

Of course, Ranieri was his own worst enemy. He took straw and spun it into Gold, and he made it look easy. This as we all know will always have the deadly repercussion of making the clueless bosses think that if it looks so easy, anyone can do it. I can just imagine the bruised egos – Claudio, the football genius receiving all the plaudits. Mr Football-Club owner who nobody knows or cares about totally ignored. It’s always amusing to see these tycoons trying to buy glory by association. The discovery that all the money in world won’t buy you genius or affection must be galling. They attempt to buy up creative talent, clearly recognising the sure touch of the Divine in them, and then screw it all up because they try to grasp the ineffable in their acquisitive way. It was ever thus, from the dimwit Popes and Cardinals who attempted to direct Michelangelo in how to paint, to the record companies who take over a musical genius and chip away until they start to produce the same bland pabulum as everyone else. And who can forget the story of Emperor Joseph II (who he?) telling Mozart that The Marriage of Figaro is OK, only”it has too many notes, that’s all”. I enjoyed the spin on it taken by the writer of Amadeus, getting Mozart to agree and ask the tone-deaf Emperor which notes he should remove 🙂

I was thinking of this hunger for a legacy a couple of weeks ago when the founder of Morrisons supermarket died. I passed one of their superstores the same day and it led me to wonder how many of the staff gave a damn one way or the other. They didn’t even close the stores for a day out of respect. I know nothing about Morrisons’ founder but I thought it was sad. Mammon above all else. When my mother died I wanted the sun and the moon to be switched off; that’s a legacy worth leaving. But then, she did some solid work while she was here. It’s why there’s no weeping in the streets when tycoons die. It’s why I know who Ranieri is but haven’t got a clue who owns Leicester FC. To steal a quote from The Simpsons, “I’m Bart Simpson. Who the hell are you? ” The names of the geniuses still ring clear though, whether they are alive or dead: Senna, Cantona, Ali, Edison, Tesla, Yeats. It reminds me of the verse about Abel in Hebrews 11: “He being dead, yet speaketh”. Ranieri did a magical thing last year, and that cannot be tarnished by his sacking. He should have just held back and not taken them to the top. Middle of the road, he’d still have his job. Problem is, he can’t help it. You might as well tell Usain Bolt to slow down, or Muhammad Ali to stop prancing around the ring. The Welsh have a word for it: awen. When creativity strikes, it’s as natural as breathing for the artist. I can’t wait to see the manager they think is better than Ranieri . Talk about a poisoned chalice.

And the world turns. I hope you enjoy the pics illustrating the products of some fine minds. None of them is a dollar bill. Have a wonderfully creative week.

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Rara Avis

 

The things we say – I’m starving; See Rome and die; I would give my arm for that dress/bag/house. If we are to account for every idle word on Judgment Day, I for one am royally screwed.

A Patek Phillipe 1518 watch sold for £9m at auction last week. This is not my usual rant about wasted resources: I’m assuming whoever bought it is using it as a  way to park money. As long as there are other people on the planet willing to pay similar sums, it’s as good as buying a house etc etc. That of course assumes he (trust me, it’s a man) doesn’t drop it—Oops 🙂 It’s ironic though that the worth of this timepiece is that it accrues value as time passes, but only if it’s not actually used to tell time. However, what really caught my attention was the reaction of an over-excited dealer in watches, “I have waited a lifetime to see a 1518 in stainless steel”. I laughed like a drain. It reminded me of the Nunc Dimittis: “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word. For mine eyes have seen the Patek Philippe 1518 watch, stainless steel version”. Sounds silly, doesn’t it? The Messiah, yes. A timepiece, not so much. Or in Trumpese – ridiculous, crazy, nuts! Not the Grand Canyon, the Kalahari desert, or the Victoria Falls. A watch. I know he was properly carried away in the moment but still, it made me think about the ridiculous stuff I say, day in, day out.

I thought I might share some of the beautiful works I have been reading about lately, starting with Fenella Elms’ terrific ceramics and Jane Sheppard’s gorgeous handmade tiles. They are not particularly rare, but that does not make them any less beautiful. If you really want to see something unique and beautiful, look in a mirror. Every human being on this planet is both irreplaceable and astonishing. Have a wonderful week.

(Photos: Patek Phillipe 1518 watch; Fragility of Uncertainty, Fenella Elms; Ceramic Sculpture, Fenella Elms; Jane Sheppard tiles x 2)

 

 

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Winter Of Discontent

Oh no! A world shortage of lettuce, broccoli and cabbage!! How will we cope? Yep, you guessed – children all over Europe are pumping their fists in the air and doing cartwheels. As a well-known philanthropist, I would like to donate my lifetime portion of Iceberg lettuce to a grateful world. Don’t all thank me at once. This is what happens when a short-sighted succession of idiots aka the government, believe that it’s a good idea to rely on imported food. Radical idea: why don’t we get some guys to grow food and pay them a fair price for it instead of covering the countryside with solar panel farms and wind turbines. We could call them farmers.

Much as I love the odd vegetable, and I mean odd: I love the stuff everyone else hates – spinach, swede, turnips, parsnips etc, a little can go a long way. I was watching Diners, Drive-ins and Drives (if you don’t watch it, what could you be spending your time on?) and a fabulous guy from the Papi Queso food truck made a Pig Mac. Yep, a grilled cheese sandwich with a slice of Macaroni Cheese and half a kilo of Pulled Pork. He did garnish it with some herbs so that’s the veg bit taken care of 🙂 It looked incredible.

As you might have guessed, I am fed-up to the back teeth, not with Pig Macs, but with winter. As a child of the Tropics through and through, February is always one cold month too many. The walk to the newsagent was so uninspiring that I was forced to look at my boots all the way just to see something attractive. You have no idea of the ghastliness of it all, truly. It is the unholy trinity of grey skies (and not in a Farrow & Ball way), the start of the wretched hay-fever season, and miserable cold weather. And no, I do not wish to get my Vitamin D from a pill. Now if they started selling Vitamin-D infused Tequila, that might help. Note to self: Excellent business idea! So you know what you can do with your Vit D pill. I need sunshine, and lots of it. I love that sign from a beer garden in Hampshire although it makes me long for Summer. I don’t know which is scarier to parents – a toddler that’s tanked up on Espresso or the free Puppy. Yikes.

I leave the final word to my boy Ogden- he can always  be guaranteed to cheer up the gloomiest day:

The Porcupine

Any hound a porcupine nudges
Can’t be blamed for harboring grudges.
I know one hound that laughed all winter
At a porcupine that sat on a splinter.

Have a great week.

 

 

 

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Quality Vs Quantity

So, I went to a gala dinner on Sunday. Excellent fun it was too; to say it was full of party animals is an understatement – I danced for 4 hours straight and the dance floor was always crowded. In the end, they had to turn the music off and switch all the lights on just to get us to leave. The hallmark of a terrific party. When the invitation arrived, a friend had asked me if I was buying a new frock. I looked at him in amazement – What the blazes is a ‘frock’? This is not 1940! Anyway, I quite liked the idea of a frock but seeing as AlaraApothecary guzzles up all my readies, it was nix to that. As I have a roomful of clothes, it seemed a bit crazy to shell out for a new dress, indeed, on a new anything. So, I dug deep and there I was on Sunday in my amazing Rifat Ozbek dress (size 10, and that’s a designer size 10 which is a high-street size 14 :-)) It clung and skimmed and flattered, it was so beautifully cut. Kenzo jacket (size 36!!!. I don’t remember ever being that thin!) It was extremely satisfying to still be able to wear stuff I bought 20 years ago without having to resort to Spanx…… The Chanel set which if purchased now wouldn’t leave much change from 2K and the 5-inch Gucci heels didn’t hurt (well, they did after the fourth hour of dancing but were super-comfy till then) My point is not to swank by dropping all these designer names (much 🙂 ), I can’t afford any of them these days, sob. I literally avert my eyes when I pass Chanel, it’s much safer that way….. The point is that these items have lasted forever. If I had tried to wear the high street equivalent from way back when, quelle horreur. It would have been quite a scary outcome. Seams would be popping and heels cracking all over the place.

So, quality matters. Obviously, there’s a point where the price differential becomes insane. Couture, anyone? Whilst not dissing the value of a £5 pair of faux-GGS from Primark if you’re boracic (apart from the fact that you have to dismiss the thought of how much the maker was paid if you are buying them so cheaply, and hope you don’t go to hell), disposable dressing is bad for the environment and bad for our self-esteem. Buy some good stuff, and less of it. It doesn’t have to be Gwyneth Paltrow-style £600 T-shirts either as we are not crazy people. One day you’ll need a frock, and – hey presto. That’s why I insist on quality ingredients for my products. I would make more money using cheaper ingredients, but I’d be too embarassed to look myself in the eye in the mirror. The images are of some superb quality products. Can’t afford any of them but I can admire the workmanship. That Pedro Da Costa Felgueiras table is £7320 plus postage and packaging 🙂 . Love that £20 at the end, don’t you? Don’t you ever wonder how much money you would need to have before you would consider a 7K side-table a reasonable purchase? I mean you’d probably have a great big house with many rooms needing side tables. The maths makes my teeth hurt.

I leave you with one of my trademark terrible jokes:

Q: How do the Welsh eat their cheese?

A: Caerphilly.

Now that’s what I call a cheesy joke! Have a fun-filled, pun-free week.

 

(Photos: Brando wall light, Samuele Mazza; Fly chandelier Ola Masiero; Gilded cork vessel, Pedro Da Costa Felgueiras ; Candelabrum table, Pedro Da Costa Felgueiras)

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