Monday, February 28, 2011

 

To borage or not to borage

On 24th February I talked about a plant thought to be borage. Not being entirely satisfied with our identification, we decided to ask our neighbour, whose father had served in HMS Borage during the war (see article A7486978 in the BBC WWII memory archive) and whose mother believed that a sprig of borage was an essential ingredient of a Pimms, and so ought to know what the stuff looked like. She was unconvinced; she granted that the thing was probably a member of the borage family, the boraginaceae, but that was as far as she would go.

A trip to the library followed, where I found that Epsom library does not carry the sort of superior floras which contain the sort of proper diagrams of plants which enable one to confirm identifications. But it did carry various picture books and a larger Collins Flower Guide than our own with the result that we arrived at something called Green Alkanet - an immigrant cousin of our own borage and comfrey. Further poking around with Mr. G. revealed http://www.dgsgardening.btinternet.co.uk/alkanet.htm which talks about a basal rosette of leaves, which talk I thought conclusive. Yesterday I was able to inspect the plants at Raynes Park (see below) again and they seem to be coming on very like those in the books. And today our specimen has flowered, with the pretty blue flower looking very like those in the pictures - without going as far as counting stamens and that sort of thing. There is also an essay at http://michaelpeverett.blogspot.com/2005/09/green-alkanet.html. Where I think the matter may rest.

Yesterday to London to make the better acquaintance of the original Kreutzer Sonata. Not to be confused with the violinist, the Janáček string quartet, the short story (last mentioned on 30th September) or any of the various films of the same name. Well played by Vadim Gluzman (from Israel) on the violin and Angela Yoffe (from Latvia) on the piano, nicely echoing my recording with Itzhak Perlman and Vladimir Askenazy. Inter alia, I get to hear the point of the story: I would not care to have my wife play such a thing with another man. Something I suppose musical families have to get used to. Or the husbands of pretty barmaids. We also got a splendid French sonata, rather earlier, and a couple of pieces by Ravel, much later.

On the way to the concert, scored a first of another sort. Being a little early, thought to take a look inside All Souls Church in Langham Place. I couldn't get beyond the porch as a service was just ending, a service with a full congregation of all ages. Young, old and families. Something I do not recall seeing for real for many years. There was also a small band involving things like guitars, violins and drums. The tone was evangelical, with a chap in a suit standing four square behind a microphone on the altar; no discrete standing to one side as in a C of E church, allowing the cross pride of place. And for those in the aisles unlucky enough not to be able to actually see the great man, there were large repeater screens.

And at the concert I made the acquaintance of the Bela Bartok Centre for Musicianship (http://www.bbcm.co.uk/), the director of which had brought along a party of quite young children to hear their first concert. The first time that I have seen a significant number of children at the Wigmore Hall. Almost the first time that I have seen black people at a classical concert. It was good to see.

Needing to wind down afterwards, I thought to check out Toucan 1, Toucan 2 in Wimpole Street having changed hands. Toucan 1, just off Soho Square, was alive and well but shut on Sundays. Next stop the 'Coach and Horses' which seems to have taken a turn for the worse. Virtually empty and no regular warm beer. The best they could manage was Hobgoblin, so I passed on that and took in a quick pint of Bombardier at the 'Salisbury' in St Martin's Lane. Then onto the 'Hole in the Wall' at Waterloo, unusually full for a Sunday with cheerful Arsenal supporters. I gather they had cause to be less cheerful later in the day. And so home, via Raynes Park as mentioned above. As luck would have it, a through train was in just as I arrived, so I did not get a chance to inspect the plants properly. Just a glimpse through the window as we passed.

Just finished off last week's Lancashire Hot Pot for breakfast. That is to say the one made from the neck of one animal from not more than one country. Unlike the one noticed on 18th February about which one could not be so sure. Very it was too, although one had to be a bit careful about the shards of bone collected at the bottom of the saucepan.

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