Promnomnomnom.

The Russianfest last week was absolutely incredible. I'd never seen a concert at the Albert Hall before, or even a 'proper' performance by an orchestra, and it was every bit as I imagined. Steve and I trolled London's gloomy streets for a while beforehand, getting soaking wet, before taking our seats directly above the orchestra and high up under the warm, glowing lights. The rain had totalled my lovingly-embiggened hair, so I had a satin scarf pulled over my head like some kind of fancy Fifties lady, and Steve was wearing his awesome waistcoat and velvet jacket. I always make a bit of an effort when I go to the theatre, so we laughed about how we were the only ones who had done so, despite the drowned-rat effect. Apart from a few eccentric ties and ladies in brightly-coloured classic business suits, every other bugger was in jeans.

I adore Shostakovich's mad klezmer-flavoured melodies, and the music from this ballet of insanity, so those were the main reasons I wanted to go to this particular Prom. The violin concerto (Lisa Batiashvili) was electrifying. The bit that moved me the most though was the Tchaikovsky - Francesca da Rimini - which made my heart swell so much that I cried. Tears everywhere (and almost impossible to keep them as quiet as was very much required - no pins were dropped!) It was marvellous, and I want to please go to another one please now please.