The Proms, or those chosen to be televised, hit their stride impressively on Sunday night with Bertrand Chamayou's thrilling Mendelssohn Piano Concerto. It was hard to believe that was twenty minutes - and maybe it wasn't- but one has better things to do than clock watch on such occasions. Dear, oh, dear. Quite honestly, I didn't even know there were Mendelssohn Piano Concertos because one always goes for the famous violin one but I know now.
And it was good to hear Clemency describe Mendelssohn as a 'giant'. Of course he was, as much if not more so than Schumann, Liszt and Brahms. I usually bemoan the lack of credit he is accorded compared to some composers but it was me that was missing the point. There are such giants and then Bach, Mozart and Beethoven are something else. I'm glad we got that settled.
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And, in a moment of inspiration of my own, I solved the horse racing deficit at a stroke on Saturday.
The situation was that over 11 months I'd given back the meaty, beaty, big and bouncy profit I'd built up in the first half of 2017. I've become accustomed to not losing in recent years and decided that I wasn't going to work only to transfer the proceeds to Paddy Power. So I imposed a moritorium and it wasn't hard to do during the flat season although I knew the Skeltons were racking up winners without me in the summer jumping.
But I had a look on Saturday, the big race being the Summer Plate at Rasen. Hang on, I reckon I've got a clue here- More Buck's, been sold, moved stables, down in the handicap and has won since, Paddy going 12/1. I'll have that.
And now this year's deficit is cleared. And that, lds & gnlmn, is how to do it. Hang fire, wait, wait and wait a bit more until you think you know something. And then, bang.
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Another walk past the church at Warblington still didn't reveal the last resting place of the great Rosemary Tonks. I've been checking whenever I can but am starting to doubt if she's there. I will bother Neil Astley with the question once more when I have nerve because it isn't for me to cast doubt on the veracity of his introduction to Bedouin of the London Evening. We will see. In the meantime, I'm doing my best not to allow the gorgeous, louche and still elusive Rosemary to become an obsession.
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I'll do this instead- try to achieve a Top 6 of works by one of my especially favourite artists in tribute to another.
It begins with my colleague's healthy interest and good taste in poetry that led him to spend some of a minor windfall on Sean O'Brien's The Drowned Book. That is where Sean pays fitting tribute to Thom Gunn. I wondered how many other of my ackowledged 'heroes' are thus coupled.
There is Josquin des Prez with his Deploration, his gorgeous lament on the death of Ockeghem.
And there's David Bowie's acknowledgement of Lou Reed in Queen Bitch.
I'm sure I'll find some others. You'll be the first to know.
David Green
- David Green (Books) is the imprint under which I published booklets of my own poems. The original allocation of ISBN numbers is used up now, though. The 'Collected Poems' are now available as a pdf. The website is now what it has become, often more about music than books and not so often about poems. It will be about whatever suggests itself.
