Showing posts with label Catrin Finch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Catrin Finch. Show all posts

Friday, October 8, 2010

Saturday, August 28, 2010

Listening to Wales: Arvo Pärt and the Vale of Glamorgan Festival

Arvo Pärt, the Estonian composer, turns seventy-five this September, and he’ll be celebrating part of his birthday week in Wales.  From September 5th through 11th, his glorious music will form the centerpiece of the Vale of Glamorgan Festival, and Pärt will be in attendance September 8th and 9th.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Michael Foot (1913-2010): “Wales’s Most Brilliant Adopted Son”

Michael was perhaps Wales's most brilliant adopted son.
Never again will we see such soaring oratory, socialist passion and wit.
--Secretary of State for Wales Peter Hain, March 3, 2010

His is a dying breed.  Our politicians have looked more and more like grey-suited purpose-built machines ever since Labour's image-makers forced Neil Kinnock to throw away his houndstooth suit.

--Francis Beckett, The Guardian, March 31, 2007

Michael Foot, who died March 3, 2010, at the age of 96, served as Ebbw Vale’s MP for thirty-two years.  Foot was a grand old man of the British Labour party, an unreconstructed radical, one of the last of his kind.  He was known equally for his erudition and his disheveled appearance, most notably the jacket he wore at the Remembrance Day ceremony in 1981.  (Not all were opposed to his sartorial choice:  the Queen Mother complimented him on choosing “a smart, sensible coat for a day like this.”)

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Armchair Traveling: Mapping Wales, the Music of John Metcalf

Despite several trips to Great Britain, I’ve never been to Wales.  My partner of many years felt marooned there for a time, and that may be the reason we haven’t gone.  (Back then, if an English grammar student had no Latin, attending university in England to study English was next to impossible—Wales was almost all there was.)  The other association we have with Wales is no better:  we’d met a Welsh singer who, we were told, had a lovely voice, but what we encountered was a decidedly unlovely drunk.