Saturday 15th: La Complice unfinished, Phonethemental and Churchill at Corona

It rained quite a lot on Saturday 15^th, here in Montréal, but not as heavily and consistently as the day before. In fact I spent most of my day under cover, in one way or another, so wasn't sure what happened with the weather for the best part of the day.

You were undercover? What's this, something you haven't been telling us about? Did you fill in one of those full-page newspaper adverts to join MI5. Always thought that was a bit strange that... apply now for a job in the British security service. I suppose they have to these days, there just aren't the people in trilby hats and trench-coats queuing up at the job centre, or femme fatales for that matter. No, you don't see many femmes fatales looking for jobs these days...

Excuse me! If you were paying more attention you would have noticed that I said “under cover”, not “undercover.”

Ah. What a difference a space makes! ... twenty four little hours, now there are flowers, where once there was … oops sorry, that just reminded me of a song. It was on an album by Ben E. King, though I don't think it was his song really. We used to sing along with that didn't we?

Good grief! I sometimes wonder where these random thoughts come from! Anyway, undercover because I spent some time in the hotel, and was devastated to find that the wi-fi network wasn't operating.

Devastated! Devastated because the wi-fi wasn't working! What a commentary on the state of affairs when a 66 year old man is devastated by a lack of wi-fi connection.

Well it was one reason why there was such a hold-up in the delivery of blog postings, as I spent so much time sorting it out. Well, actually I didn't sort it out, so decided to head for Complexe Desjardins, where they have a free wi-fi network and food. Oh yes it's also undercover, sections of it being part of Montréal's underground city. On the way I thought I would have brunch at Eggspectations, thinking that they might also have wi-fi. It was very pleasant – Eggs Benedictine Classique with Hollandaise sauce, and a selection of fruit. They didn't have wi-fi, so having finished my poached eggs and drained the last drop of a fabulous glass of freshly squeezed pink grapefruit juice I made my way into the Complexe Desjardins. I was there for quite a while, had a video chat with my great nephew James, back home in England, and then embarked on another mammoth audio-conference with “Les Filles de la Russie”. There was no singing this time, as we, well I was in a public place and didn't want to be arrested for causing a disturbance.

After that I walked back to the hotel through the amazing complex of buildings housing art galleries and concert halls. The walk is underground,with some sections illuminated by art installations and futuristic windows (it seems a bit petty calling them windows). You emerge near the Place des Arts metro station, among buildings housing UQAM – the University of Québec at Montréal.

Do you remember when you invented a new university?

I beg your pardon?

I said, do you remember when you invented a new university? You know, the University of Roker in the North East, abbreviated to URINE, so you could use it in a play on words. It was in an official document wasn't it?

No it wasn't. It was in a thing I did when I was made redundant from my job, to invite colleagues to a little farewell do I had with my colleagues. I was just taking the p.........

Ah yes, that's right.

I had arranged to meet Johanne at Benelux at 5.30, so that we could have something to eat before finding our way to the Corona Theatre on rue Notre-Dame. I received a notification from her to say that she was there a little bit early, so I arrived within five or six minutes. She had made arrangements to meet up with an old friend that she hadn't see for over twenty years, and who happened to be in Montréal on a job. She told me that he is a musician and had a wonderful laugh. A powerful combination in my book! It wasn't long before Réjean joined us, and we passed a wonderful 90 minutes. It was time for Johanne to share with him really, but they kept drawing me into the conversation, so it wasn't long before the conversation got round to Luce Dufault. It's just that people ask me why I'm here, and when I tell them it's for the music, they always push me further. So they get the story about Luce. Réjean told me that he had worked with her several times, and made it clear what he thought of her – that she was very special. That feeling seems to be fairly unanimous. Réjean is Réjean Julien, the guitarist in the group PHONETHEMENTAL, which is a bit of a play on words, as he explained. You can see the literal meaning, but when you say the word, it easily converts into Fundamental. Clever, eh? 

Here is the band's website. www.phonethemental.com When you get to the videos, Réjean is shown with long hair. Now it is quite short. And Johanne was right about the laugh! The conversation had moved on a few minutes when I noticed that I had a new message … from......Luce. She had seen from FaceBook that we were in Benelux, and asked us to drink a few to her!

Johanne and I had a snack/meal and then saw that it was well after seven o' clock. Réjean left in search of sushi, and we went to pay our bills. As I stood at the till, I glanced along the bar and saw that the young lady who had been serving us was holding up a glass of dark liquid, as though she was drinking a toast to me.

Come on, now you're imagining things!

Well I was wrong...

Told you!

She was actually offering me the glass of beer .. free. She brought it across and handed it to me. The first sniff told me that this was powerful stuff. In response to my somewhat stunned “C'est quoi?” She told me it was “La Complice”. Ah, ...... the barley wine at 10%. A fairly large glass of La Complice... at 10%.... as we were leaving....what to do? You can share it, she said. Well possibly, but Johanne took one sip and that option was removed. It would have been churlish to have refused the offering, but it would have been foolhardy to have sunk it in one. I drank about three quarters of the glass, but could feel the effect immediately, so, crime of crimes, I had to leave a glass unfinished, feeling really guilty about it. Must apologize at the next opportunity.

I am sure the opportunity will arise!

We walked to the Metro station and caught the next one to Lionel-Geroulx, from where it was a short walk to Theatre Corona, on rue Notre-Dame.

You had already mentioned that.

Yes, I know, but I was going to make the point about the streets in Montréal - how amazingly long they are. For example I could have walked from my hotel to rue Notre-Dame in ten minutes, turned right and walked to the theatre. But it would have taken a long, long time, probably an hour or more.

So we were at the Theatre Corona to see a young Australian singer/composer/guitarist by the name of Kim Churchill. It was the first time for me, but Johanne had actually been present when he recorded his latest album: Montreal Attic Recordings. The theatre had clearly see better days. It had originally been a classic theatre, with stalls, balconies and boxes, but now the seats had been stripped out from the stalls and a bar built at the rear of the same area, just inside the main doors. A lot of the original plaster work and gilded carved wood remains, having been painted a somewhat grungy ochre colour. But we weren't there for the architecture. First on was a young lady from New Brunswick, Babette Hayward, who is just breaking into the music scene here. She writes her own songs and accompanies herself on guitar. 

Here is her first music video, Break Line:

http://babettehayward.com/site/video/

It was an excellent performance, marred to some degree by the amount of conversation going on in the theatre. I can never quite understand why people go to concerts, having bought tickets and then talk their way through the whole proceedings. Back to Babette – I think a lot more will be heard of this young lady.

And what about the word 'babette'? Hadn't you used that incorrectly in an earlier posting?

Ah yes, it appears that when describing a item of underclothing, I had described them as 'babettes', It should have been “bobettes”

So then it was on to Kim Churchill. A sun-bronzed, handsome young surfing Aussie who composes songs and plays guitar and harmonica. Don't you just hate him already? We still stuffed you in the Ashes Kim! Maybe that's why you ran away to Canada! Ha!! Seriously though, this was a high energy performance of songs with powerful lyrics. (It makes a change being able to understand the lyrics in live performances here.)

Playing solo, he accompanied himself on guitar, harmonica, base-drum and a electronic set up which allowed for sampling, looping and echoing. Quite the modern one-man band! After the show we bought albums and then walked back to the Metro Station through the wind and rain. Johanne set off on the orange line heading towards Montmorency, and I jumped on board the green line train heading back to Place des Arts.

Friday 14th October: Montréal Day 3.

It's Friday 14^th October, 2011

No it's not, it's Monday 17^th October, 2011

For the purposes of creativity, I prefer to think that it's just after I have returned from Bistro à Jojo, after another 'good day'. Actually, then, if that's the case...

It's Saturday 15^th October, 2011.

No it's not, it's Monday 17^th October 2011, just like it was five minutes ago!

I have already explained my reasoning, and adjusted my timings, for the purposes of creativity. A kind of poetic licence …. playing with time. It also helps me to remember what happened.

Ahah, that's more like it.

So, looking back on Friday from a much closer perspective, I am able to recount the events more accurately. In fact several hours of Friday were spent in reliving Thursday, particularly the visit to L'Assomption, Les Filles de Caleb et … sorry (it's just that when you manage to string four words in French together you get carried away with your success) and the visit backstage. The wonders of Skype having been explored the day before with Iraida, I had agreed to spend some time with her, Daria and Jane, to tell them about the show, and Luce and Bruno, and Daniel and everything else I could possibly remember. When Iraida and I were making arrangements for this video-conference extraordinaire, we realised that with the versions of Skype that we all had (the free version) we were unable to set-up a video-conference.

Cheapskate!

Not at all. I think most normal people just have the free version. Normally it suffices, but in this case it didn't. In fact we have discovered that it might be possible to get a week's free trial of the video-conferencing facility, but that's for another time. So it was that we settled for an audio chat, with the four of us speaking in French. Can you believe it? I felt a bit like I was in a press conference, making a statement and then answering questions. It was amazing, and thoroughly enjoyable. I had only just heard Iraida's voice for the first time the day before, and Daria's only once before, a couple of years ago when she called me on her mobile phone, whilst I was in a pet store in Sunderland. It was to be a first for Jane. The narrative completed, and the questions answered to the best of my ability, the four way conversation dissolved into a wonderful mélange of flute, temple bell and guitar playing, with efforts at various songs being attempted in French, by all, in Russian, by me, and even the odd word of English thrown in for good luck. There are even plans being made to produce an international piece of music, if I can teach myself to read music and be able to play in the right key within the next few weeks! At the end of two and a half hours, arrangements were made for a follow up chat on Saturday, before we counted down to a switch-off. How old am I?

Sixty-six, with the kidneys of a seventy six year-old.

Thanks for that, but I felt like everyone else feels inside, as young as I wanted to be. Thank you girls. After the conversation I took some photos of the autographed posters and programme, which I intended to post to the girls on Facebook. It then dawned on me that I was a bit confused about the identity of Jane K. When you have a multi person audio chat on Skype, there are pictures displayed of each person involved in the conversation, apart from yourself, because you probably know what you look like and when you are speaking. The name beneath the space for Jane wasn't Jane, it was Eugenia, as I explained in an earlier posting. This confused me at the time, and when it came to sending her the picture of Luce and Daniel Boucher, I wasn't sure who to send it to. So, my logic led me to search for someone on Facebook called Eugenia K, or with a surname beginning with K. There she was: Eugenia Komandirova. Eugenia Komandirova had the same interests in music, and our mutual friends were Daria and Iraida. So I wrote a short, and therefore not very explanatory message to go with the picture. It wasn't until later that I discovered that Eugenia K wasn't Jane K, and that I had to resend the picture to Jane. I then had a pleasant written dialogue with Eugenia Komandirova who generously accepted my apology in excellent English and said that she had quite enjoyed being the other Eugenia for the short period of confusion. So, another "Fille de la Russie" who wants to see Luce in Russia!!

Last year, when I visited Montréal in November, I went to a Steve Hill concert in Lavaltrie, some distance outside the city.  I would never have got there, ...

Yes it's difficult when you can't get to the Lavaltrie.

.... had it not been for Johanne, one of a group of 'maniaques' (that's their word, not mine) who are super-fans of Québec's finest blues-rock guitarist. We became firm friends, and so had arranged to meet up again. In fact we were going to meet up again three times, on Friday, Saturday and Sunday, for starters. On Friday it was to be a rendez-vous at Les 3 Brasseurs on rue St.Denis, just across the road from the final destination for the evening , that wonderful institution of the blues – Bistro à Jojo. For most of the day it had been raining. In fact it had been sheeting down all day, and no Mexican type jokes at this point, please.

Ok Senor

It was busy on rue St Denis when I arrived, having made it from Place des Arts (photos above) on the Metro. It was raining heavily, shall we say. I had purposely dressed in my Rohan Dry Requisite trousers, 100% waterproof trousers, which almost look like normal trousers, North face anorak and Berghaus waterproof walking shoes, and carried my trusty Rohan umbrella, So I stood outside Les 3 Brasseurs, oblivious to the effects of the cloudburst. What was amazing was that it was so warm, so warm that I felt like taking off some of my 100% waterproof covering.

That would have been foolish.

There goes the voice of reason again!

It wasn't long before Johanne (Jwanne) arrived and we entered the brewpub/restaurant which was really heaving (very full). The beer is good, even if it wouldn't be classified by CAMRA as real ale, and so is the food. We shared a huge Flammenkeuchen – look it up, or read one of my older blogs!!

Having caught up on news and shared information about our ailments – by coincidence we had both been suffering from back/neck/shoulder/arms problems, we went across the street to Bistro à Jojo.

One of Québec's foremost blues musicians was on the bill : Jim Zeller, harmonica player extraordinaire, supported by an excellent band..

It's now 19.41, on Monday 17^th October, and I am sitting at the bar in Benelux typing away as I have been doing for about an hour and a half, and my eyes and back are getting tired. Break for food and a sip of Periskop Baltic Porter, at 7%. Back soon.

The food was eaten, the porter sipped and the bill paid. Returning to my room at 20.30 I sat sat on my bed and woke up at 23.50.

So back to Jim Zeller. We managed to get a seat right in front of the 'stage', which is in effect a small dais raised by about 6 inches from the rest of the floor. So if you are at the front, you are really at the front. The music was excellent and the atmosphere electric. 

At one point a rather short gentleman, strangely dressed and carrying a tambourine appeared and began to dance around in what little space remained between the tables, bar and stage, inviting others to join in the fun. At the break in the set, Johanne left to catch the Metro, but I decided to wait for the second half. I went 'up' on to the stage to buy a CD, and thought I would get a photo for my blog. Jim handed my camera to his drummer, and we posed for the shot. I say we posed: I think I just stood there while Jim posed. Then he insisted on taking a picture of me with the drummer ( wish I knew his name as it seems a bit strange just calling him 'the drummer').

These are two of the scariest photos I have ever seen. I eventually left at 01.00, and the second half still hadn't started. The streets in the Latin Quarter were still busy as I walked up rue St.Denis. It's about a 20 minute walk back to rue Ste Famille, but fortunately the rain had stopped, and it was still quite warm, even at that time of the morning.

Voir Grand, Voir Devant: Montréal, Day 2, Part 3: The show!

Define a period described as “several hours”.

I know I said it might be an interval of several hours before the continuation of this blog, and that it is now a matter of days since the last posting, but there are decisions to be made. Is it better to sit in your hotel room blogging all day, or should one be out there having experiences worth blogging about. It's quite a conundrum that: if you just sit in your room blogging, then you have nothing to blog about, whilst if you fill your day with wondrous experiences, then you end up exhausted and have no time to blog.

Moderation in all things, that is the key.

That's very profound for you, and actually quite sensible, if you don't mind me saying.

I don't mind at all, and thank you, I think. But isn't about time you told your reader about Thursday evening before he/she loses interest? You can philosophise later, when you've got nothing important to say.

So, where were we? Ah yes, there we were sitting in seats 6, 8 and 10 in Row Q in the Theatre Hector-Charland, in L'Assomption, waiting for Les Filles de Caleb to begin. I bought the CD for the show last November, some months before the actual première of the show, and felt a warm glow spreading as the musicians began playing the introduction/overture.

It hadn't happened again had it?

What hadn't happened again?

You mentioned a 'warm glow spreading' That sometimes happens to you doesn't it?

Do you mind!! There have been odd occasions when all is not as it should be in the medical adhesive department, but that's not was I was talking about in this instance. It was a warm glow of pleasure, coming from hearing and seeing a live performance of something you have only heard before in a recorded version. So, as the first notes of “Dans les bois” were heard, a warm feeling of recognition and expectation spread through me.

Is that what happened early this morning, and is that why you're having to do lots of washing? Ah no, that was the medical adhesive malfunction type of warm glow wasn't it?

Good grief! Have you no compassion, no sensitivity? But as a matter of fact, I had better go down to the hotel laundry to check on the progress of rather a lot of washing. There will, however, be no further mention of washing or medical adhesive, is that understood? Our reader does not want to read about such things.

I hear you can do polls on blogs now, so you could gauge the wishes of your reader that way. At least you might get a 100% yes, or know, or don't know.

The stage at Theatre Hector Charland is quite large, and it needs to be for the production of Les Filles de Caleb. There is no orchestra pit: the musicians are on stage for the entire performance, and form an integral part of the events which take place on stage. To tell this family saga effectively requires a great deal of ingenuity, and the theatrical methods used are supplemented by still and moving images,as well as scene-setting sound effects.

Yes, yes, yes … all very technical and critique type reporting, but that's not what this was about. Tell him/her/them why you were really here!

The songs, the music, the singers. OK? But what I hadn't bargained for was that this folk-opera would be so packed with emotion. Michel Rivard's songs are wonderful – Emilie, Berthe, Blanche, Ovila, Napoleon and the others are brought to life through these pieces of poetry set to music. You know who my favourite artiste was going to be before I got to the theatre, and Luce did not disappoint. Without sounding trite and fawning, Mme Dufault's voice is magical – and in this story of a woman leading a life of extreme difficulty, I have to tell you that there were one or two occasions when emotion almost overcame me. She was not alone in effectively transmitting the emotions of the events unfolding before our eyes. I have not read the books, or seen the TV series, so I came to this experience without any foreknowledge beyond that available in the publicity. I left the building with a much enhanced vision and understanding of the hardships encountered by the folk living in the near wilderness areas of Québec, and I am sure elsewhere in Canada.

At the intermission, Louise turned to me to seek my reactions to the first part of the show. I found myself unable to speak for several moments, such was the dramatic conclusion to the first act.

What a big girl's blouse!

Be quiet. And how many people do you think will understand that phrase, if they don't come from the north of England?

Would you have preferred “You big softy!”

I don't mind admitting that as I get on in years...

Oh no, just a moment while I tune up the violin...

...that things get to me more emotionally. There's nothing wrong with shedding a tear or two from time to time. And talking about violins,they can't half tug at your own strings, you've got to admit. Anyway, after the interval, the show went on...

As it must do...

and we became more involved in the stories of these ageing and developing characters. I loved it., Bruno Pelletier, who could very easily be crowned the next Czar of Russia, if he's interested in the job, played a spurned lover who turned to the church and then became unspurned, so left it. (@Michel V. - don't bother looking up that word in your dictionary, it doesn't exist, – les mots solite et insolite! ) .

He has a superb voice. If you haven't heard him sing, you could do worse than watch a very interesting video which appeared on social networking sites today – a flash mob in Moscow celebrating his voice and his imminent visit there, for the third time, I think. It's at https://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?v=2382435714603

There is movement in Russia gaining momentum to have another Quebecoise visit them. Go on Luce, you know you want to!!

For once I am in total accord!

Michel Rivard had cast his players well, each convincing us of their conviction in their respective roles, and delivering them to a very high standard. A sigh of disappointment had rippled around the auditorium before the performance, when it was announced that the part of Blanche would be taken by a young lady whose name I did not catch on Thursday evening. There was disappointment that Stephanie Lapointe was not present, but Chloé Lacasse performed the role admirably. Par hasard, oops, by chance, this morning (Monday 17th) I happened to see her photograph in a poster advertising a competition for young artistes, and displaying images of former winners beneath. I saw a familiar face, and sure enough, on further examination, I am fairly certain that it was Chloé Lacasse who played Blanche. My young Russian friends will be pleased to learn this fact, as they were quite disappointed last Friday that I could not give them her name! ;-)

It's now Tuesday 18th, and I have just had it confirmed by Luce that the part of Blanche was played not by Chloé Lacasse, but by Pascale Montreuil. I must check out that poster again, and my eyes, but I should have known that the young ladies several thousands of miles away would know better than me who it was.

As the show reached its conclusion, I had reached that strange place where one is enjoying something so much, and yet there is a lump in your throat which threatens to stop you breathing, and which must be controlled lest a sudden relaxation allows a howl of anguish to be released.

You what?

OK, I was choking back the tears. Is that simple enough for you to understand, strange inner voice?

The applause for the cast and musicians was rapturous, and none received a greater reception than Luce. Pauses for satisfied grin.

We waited for the audience to file out of the salle, and then made our way to the front, and watched as the various lighting systems and audio-visual displays were switched off. It was a bit bizarre to see where a few seconds before had been a forest, or a blizzard, or railroad station, to see the so familiar words “Microsoft Windows is closing down”. We waited for a little while and then Luce emerged from the wings, to greet us warmly and then invite us backstage, where most of the cast were relaxing together. We had arranged, well actually I had asked and Luce had agreed, to have a couple of posters signed for Daria and Iraida, but not one to do things by halves, Luce had five posters ready for us, one for each, all duly autographed by her and other cast members. 

She kindly introduced us to Michel Rivard, who made us welcome, and introduced us to his dog. Luce also introduced us to Yves Lambert, famed for his contribution to the Québecoix folk-music tradition. Here he is rehearsing “Joues l'accordion”, with Michel Rivard: http://youtu.be/OHP766H2vfc .

Luce's stage-husband Daniel Boucher also took the time to sign a program for a third of our 'Filles de Russie” , Eugenia, who had anglicized her name to Jane. He also recorded a little video message for her. 

Unfortunately Czar Bruno had a long journey home that night, so he had left immediately after the performance. Once again I was so impressed by the genuinely warm welcome we received from these good people. It transpired that Luce was due to run in a 10k race in Montréal on 16^th October, and then was soon to take part in the New York Marathon. I told her about our Great North Run, and will continue to drop subtle hints to tempt her to come over to take part!

At last we took our leave of Luce and the others, knowing that she faced quite a long drive home herself. Thank you Luce, for another wonderful evening, for the performance and the time afterwards, which is very special to me.

Now Sylvain works in Laval, which is virtually on the opposite side of Montréal from his home in Repentigny, and he normally sets off for work at about 04.30. We left L'Assomption just after midnight, and it takes quite a while to drive into the Centre-Ville where my hotel is situated. So you can imagine how much sleep he wasn't going to get! Thank you very much to Louise and Sylvain for their hospitality, and the rides in that lovely big Dodge Charger!

I think it was about 01.00 when I got back to the hotel, and I was so tired, physically and emotionally, that I wasn't able to send the intermediate report on the evening's proceedings to “Les Filles de Russie” (And I think they were actually waiting!) The computer was opened, switched on, and then went into sleep mode a few seconds after me.

Here are some more video clips from Les Filles de Caleb, for your information and enjoyment:

Luce chante “Voir grand, voir devant”: http://youtu.be/3ezjIV3Pueo

et “Ovila ma solitude”: http://youtu.be/nxLzwgdyuO0

and a little promo: http://youtu.be/RtUa2_f2-ds

Les Filles de Caleb - (Montréal: Day 2, part 2

It seems that everywhere you go these days that traffic cones play havoc, and Montréal is having its cone-induced share of havoc at the moment. The main I40 highway which heads northwards out of the city is suffering from cone disease, as are most of the alternative routes, whilst both our destination in Repentigny and that in L'Assomption are also victims. The ride in Sylvain's Dodge Charger was very comfortable, for me if not for him, since it was Sylvain who had to negotiate his way through the cone maze.

When we reached 'home' I was greeted by Louise and Kenzi, the family dog, who was very attentive and welcomed me into his home enthusiastically. Félix, the younger of two sons joined us for a meal prepared by Louise, and which was the subject of much jollification prior to my arrival. Louise claims not to be a master chef, and was worried that I might not survive long enough after the meal to actually visit the Theatre Hector-Charland in L'Assomption later that evening. There were to be no worries on that score, and the carrot soup, followed by home made lasagne (accompanied by a glass of chilled beer) and pudding chomeur were delicious, and did not prove in any way to be fatal!

(Yet!....)

Don't be like that! It really was a good meal. Afterwards Sylvain showed me the results of his latest handiwork – a magnificent garden room, with all mod.cons and a new and a yet unfinished home for the snow-blower, which he had only started a few days before. All I can say is that such feats of construction are way beyond my capability, and I was filled with admiration. We watched a few videos of a recent trip to a NASCAR racing track, and some of Alexandre jamming on his Fender guitar with a blues band. Excellent stuff. Alex had left me a gift – an album of 'dirty blues' by Bernard Adamus. I look forward to playing that when get back home. It was then time to drive the relatively short, but cone-infested road to L'Assomption, for the performance of the folk-opera “Les Filles de Caleb”. The three of us in the car knew that we were carrying two other passengers with us to the show, in heart and spirit: our two young Russian friends, Daria and Iraida, whose love of Québec and its culture is epitomised by their love of two of its foremost artistes – Bruno Pelletier and Luce Dufault. It is through a shared love of Luce's voice and songs that we have come to know each other and become the best of friends – Les Lucequetaires. So this evening was very special to me, because I knew the responsibility I was taking on. Daria and Iraida would want to know everything about the performance, the performers and the music. I can tell you that I have just spent two and a half hours in an audio-conference with them and another young lady for whom it was to be a special night – what a wonderful two and a half hours!

On reaching the Theatre, we parked and found our way to the ticket-office, where I was to collect the three tickets so generously provided for us by Luce. Tickets collected, I stopped off to buy some souvenir programmes before we made our way to our seats in the parterre section of the theatre, the side where all the seats are numbered only in even numbers. So we were in Row Q, seats 6,8 and 10, with an excellent view of the large stage. The auditorium filled up rapidly, so that very few seats remained unfilled when the performance began.

Isn't this the bit where you say that you found it a little strange to realise that the only seats remaining in the theatre were right beside you?

I have to say that this did strike me as rather strange, seeming to re-emphasise the fact that we were sharing this experience with 'les deux filles russes'. It would have been wonderful to have had them there with us, and it is a mutual planned expenditure if those lottery numbers come up!

Les Filles de Caleb is a folk-opera based on the trilogy of the same name by Arlette Cousture. The three volumes which trace the story of Emilie Bordeleau, the daughter of Caleb – her youth, her life as a class teacher in a small country school in Saint-Tite, her tempestuous marriage to Ovila Pronovost and of the lives of her own daughter Blanche, and grand-daughters Elise and Micheline.

The trilogy was made into a television drama series which was set, like the books in the years between the 1890s and the 1960s, and which proved to be hugely popular here in Québec. It has taken several years for the idea of a folk-opera based upon the saga to come to fruition, with the premiere of the show having taken place in Montréal in April of this year. The casting of actors to play the roles of the characters so well known through the books and the TV series caused great excitement in South Shields, Volgograd and Krasnoyarsk, as well as here in Quebec of course. For us it was because Luce Dufault and Bruno Pelletier were cast in the roles of Emilie and Napoleon respectively.

So, it was time for the show to begin, to see Luce perform in her first role as an actress (and accordion-player), and to become absorbed in the story of Les Filles de Caleb.

If any one needs to take a comfort break, this would be a good time to do it, hint, hint. Actually, it is fast approaching time for me to depart unto a better place – Les 3 Brasseurs on St.Denis for a meal before heading across the road to the blues institution of Montréal, Bistro à Jojo, in the company of my friend Johanne, who so kindly gave me a lift to the Steve Hill concert in Lavaltrie last year. We are going to see Jim Zeller and his band. As a matter of interest, Luce confided in me last night that she had on occasion sung with Jim and his band in her own blues club days.

Did you say “confided” in you? Doesn't that mean that you should have respected her confidence in you?

Well, when I said confided, I really meant that she, said it quite quietly.

So...?

Sorry Luce, but I'm sure you don't mind really?

There will now be a short intermission, which could last several hours........

Thursday 13th - lucky for some (or Day 2 in Montréal)

It's a bit strange, waking up in the dark, in a hotel room, not knowing how long you have slept, and whether you need to get up or try for a few more hours of sleep. At home, my inbuilt clock wakes me first at 05.30, then 06.30, and then ten minutes before my alarm goes off at 07.30. Having finally got to bed sometime after 03.30 GMT+1 (22.30 Montréal time), I wondered whether my internal clock would have adjusted, or whether simple fatigue would have turned it off for a while. I hadn't attempted to set up the digital clock/radio/alarm provided in the room, and it sat lifeless on a shelf adjacent to the bed. I fumbled for my mobile phone, which acts as my main time-keeping device, and opened my eyes just a fraction, to avoid being blinded by the light..

Blinded by the light, ah yes the hook line from a song of the same title by Mannfred Mann (in the non Paul Jones era), a British group from way back in the... was it the seventies? It was the kind of song which really did hook you into singing the chorus, but left you stumbling for words after the “blinded by the light” bit. There may be some who could understand the words, but I, sadly, wasn't among them. It sounded something like: “Blinded by the light, something something like a deucer in a roller in the night.” See what I mean! I'm sure there will be be a video on YouTube, if you want to check it out. There could be a prize for the first person who can present the correct lyrics as a comment to this blog.

Notice, he said 'could be' … hold on a moment. Excuse me, but isn't there a bit of a role reversal here? Aren't you supposed to interject brief comments, to lighten the moment or provide brief explanatory notes, not wander off into some reverie about lyrics of a 30 year-old song?

...as I was saying, I opened my eyes just a fraction to avoid being blinded by light from the screen of my mobile phone, which provides enough lumens to light a small city. It showed the time as 11.00. It took my brain a few seconds to work out what these four digits represented, and since I had not yet changed the time-zone I deduced that I had first awakened at about 05.30 local time.

Amazing thing, the brain, don't you think? I hear that....

Ignoring this latest interjection, I continue. After all I've been writing this blog for half an hour and I'm not even out of bed yet, if you see what I mean. At this rate I'll have to cancel all of Friday's plans and I might just about finish by tomorrow morning.

Ooer, someone got out of bed on the wrong side this morning! Oh no I forgot, you're still in bed, blogwise, [and just for the sake of a bit of real-time information, at 07.40 on Friday 14^th Montréal is either under attack or there's a massive thunderstorm rolling around the city].

Yes, maybe it's the thunderous applause from last night's show just rolling south from L'Assomption. But I digress... and I haven't got time – must be brief and get on with the story of another quite remarkable day.

Brief? Don't you mean briefs, or in your case, more like 'quite longs'?

Sshh! I haven't got to that par yet, and just in case there are small children, dogs or those easily offended reading this, I might not have mentioned it at all!

You're going to have to now, you can't just leave things dangling like that. (“Ooops!”, as Britney sang, “I've done it again”.)

To be brief, and ignoring such a vulgar comment, I arose, blogged and then attended to my ablutions and returned from the bathroom in a state of, shall we say 'not being completely dressed' (a t-shirt and babettes (that's a new québecoix word I learned yesterday, meaning an undergarment worn on the lower part of the body, ok underpants)). In my defence I have to say that hotel rooms are too warm, and the curtains were closed. At this point my netbook 'beeped' and I saw that Iraida was skyping me from Krasnoyarsk, where it was already early evening. I accepted the call and was delighted to see her facing smiling at me. I sat down at the computer...

A wise move, that...

...and without thinking, clicked on video.

Not such a wise move, that....

I am sure that Iraida will at some point read this, and so I must inform her, and you gentle reader(s), that I took advantage of a short break in transmission to put on my trousers! Decency restored to the situation we enjoyed a wonderful conversation, in a strange mix of French, English and a little Russian (the latter mainly being extracts from the lyrics of the Song of the Volga Boatmen and another folk song, Stenka Razin, sung in basso profundo by yours truly.)

Is there no end to this man's talents? Not only can he play the G-scale on a lap-steel guitar, but can also almost sing part of the chorus of Stenka Razin, the tune of which will be familiar to all fans of The Seekers. Who can forget the lovely Judith Durham belting out “The Carnival is Over”?

I reckon that the folk reading this will never have heard of The Seekers, The New Seekers, or the lovely Judith Durham. But there's an interesting activity for them to pursue in quieter moments of internet browsing. Compare and contrast the original version of “Stenka Razin” with 'The Carnival is Over”.

So: an amazing chat with Iraida. A shorter but equally pleasant telephone conversation with Louise, making arrangements for later in the day, and then it was time to find some brunch. Yes it was about 11.00 local time, and not a morsel had passed my lips since the chicken mayo sandwich and extremely small bite-size Kit-Kat, served as some strange evening/early morning snack on the aircraft about an hour before landing.

Ahem! Not strictly true... don't you remember the bag of potato crisps and fruit juice you bought, just after drinking that glass of Alter Novis.

OK, but I was rather hungry. So it was off to La Complexe Desjardins, a huge shopping mall with a food court offering food from all corners of the Earth, apart from England and Russia, and perhaps Australia and South Africa. Come to think of it there wasn't much on offer from South America.., .. or Scandinavia either. I plumped for an Oncle Burger, with frites and a choice of Root Beer or Coca Cola. I chose Coca Cola – to me drinking Root Beer is a bit like drinking antiseptic mouthwash.

I followed up with un café de jour and a couple of chocolate chip cookies (galettes), before making my way back to the hotel, to wait for my friend Sylvain to collect me and to take me to Repentigny, where I was to share a meal with him, Louise and Félix, their younger son.

At this point, in order to build dramatic tension, and to allow your author to have a glass of pineapple juice and a galette au chocolat (he saved one from yesterday) we will pause, and bring you more about Repentigny, L'Assomption and Les Filles de Caleb in a few short hours. Don't go away now, and have a wonderful morning, afternoon, evening! Be safe out there!

Good grief, you sound like a cross between an Indian Call Centre worker and that sergeant from Hill Street Blues. Oh sorry, you're still here. See you later!

Montréal 2011 - Robin's Blog reopens

It's 15.23 on 12^th October 2011, and I am sitting in the departure lounge of Terminal 5 at London Heathrow airport. My next flight leaves at 18.05, so there's quite a while to wait. It's just as well that I am one of those people who doesn't mind waiting. Waiting is part of life, so you might as well make the most of it. 

I'm making the most of this period of waiting by beginning my occasional travel blog, and by sitting not too far from the Terminal 5 branch of Wetherspoons, the pub chain which just happens to be holding a beer festival at the moment. My throat, still a little sore, has been lubricated by a pint of Odell's 90 shilling ale, and it seems to be working on my fingers too! Seeing the 90 shilling label, I first, and wrongly, assumed that this was Scottish beer. But no, this ale, light mahogany in colour, with its nutty roasted aroma and assertive caramel malt flavour, with undertones of chocolate, leading to a soft citrus and smooth aroma, with its clean finish and balance to the upfront malt character, originated in Colorado, USA. (This batch was brewed at Caledonian Brewery in Edinburgh.) In the interests of accuracy, I have to tell you that if someone had asked me to describe it, I would have said, “Very nice”. The more elaborate description came from Wetherspoon's Tasting Notes.

Well, back to the travelling part...

Just as well.

Oh no, he's back again.

One's editorial conscience is never far away. You should know that by now.

Yes indeed. So … for those kind readers who may not be aware of my final destination today, it's

“Final Destination”? Good title for a horror film that.

I thought you were my editorial conscience, not a comedian. So, anyway, I'm off to la Belle Province, to Québec, and more specifically to Montréal. I should arrive there at about 20.05 local time, which equates to 01.05 tomorrow for those based in England.

And why, you might ask, am I heading off to Montréal...

The acute accent above the letter e in Montréal, pronounced Monreyal, as opposed to Montreyawl , announces the author's acknowledgement of the predominance of French culture in this fair city.

...for the fourth time in four years, to enjoy music and the company of an expanding group of friends made over those four years. It is bizarre that Québecois music, and initially one québecoise chanteuse, has led to the development of friendships not just in Québec, but also many thousands of miles away in Russia. I have to tell you, gentle readers, that last evening I spent about two hours 'chatting' on Facebook with four wonderful people, two in Québec and two in Russia (one in Volgograd and one in Krasnoyarsk, Siberia). One of those in Québec was Luce Dufault, the aforementioned chanteuse, the others my friends in music Louise, Daria and Iraida. What a wonderful thing, to be able to chat together, although separated by thousands of miles and time differences which meant that Iraida, in Krasnoyarsk, should really have been asleep, whilst Louise and Luce had just finished lunch. One vote for social networking!!

The journey today has gone well, apart from farewells and a faulty metro train. Farewells are not my thing, I'm not very good at them. I took Lucy, my grand-daughter to school, but because of the heavy rain, thought it best not to get the dogs soaked. The dogs … pangs of guilt at leaving them and Julia to look after them whilst working full-time. Barney is an old hand – as soon as the suitcases descend from the loft he knows what is happening, but six month old Fleur isn't used to people going missing for a while. At least she has the advantage of having Uncle Barney to 'look after' her and snuggle up to.

Rather than paying a huge amount for a taxi, I made use of my age and travelled on public transport to the airport – a swift saving of some £35.00.The bus and metro system synchronised well, so I was in very good time at the airport, even though the metro train developed a fault and disgorged its passengers two or three stations before reaching its destination. A replacement arrived within minutes and so I wasn't too inconvenienced.

The wait at Newcastle was OK, punctuated as it was by a cup of coffee and a cheese and ham panini, not to mention a facebook chat with my great-nephew Thomas, in Arcusa, Spain.The flight to Heathrow perfect, landing about three minutes early. So I've just about caught up and am writing in real time!! It is now 16.16. The gates open at 16.50, so I might just go and sample a pint of Kalamazoo Black Silk, an oatmeal stout originating from Michigan, and brewed for the festival at Marston's in Staffordshire. More later, writing I mean, not beer.

Now that's not what he just thought – the possibility of a pint of Sabotage at Brasserie Benelux before bed tonight has passed through his consciousness.

In fact it turned out to be a glass, not a pint, of Alter Novis (I think that's what it said on the blackboard at Benelux), at something approaching 03.00 English time. The flight from Heathrow was largely uneventful, apart from a few bumpy bits as the Boeing 777 encountered various airstreams and headwinds, which delayed arrival by 15 minutes. I had a very interesting conversation with the lady sitting next to me - she had no choice, there were only two seats in that part of the row. She was returning to Montréal from Zambia, where she had been making a film. She had just flown from Lusaka to Johannesburg, and then to London, before joining the trans-Atlantic flight. Made my flight from Newcastle look rather unimpressive!

 Oh, and I did spot ex-Blue Peter, Newsround and Countryfile's presenter John Craven in the World Traveller Plus section. Having passed successfully through immigration control, with nary a mention of Luce Dufault (in-joke for long time readers of this blog, but this officer was a bit scary, to be honest. He didn't look like he enjoyed smiling too much), collected  my suitcase from the baggage carousel, I made it through customs and out into the cold night air. What! It wasn't cold at all - it was 17degC! Waited in the taxi queue and then sped towards the city centre, with my eyes glued not so much to the road or the city, but to the meter which increased at a rate of about 5 cents per second. I thought that it was a fixed rate for the ride into the city, and was beginning to become rather concerned as the meter showed just under 40 dollars as the taxi turned off St.Laurent into Sherbrooke. A few seconds later we pulled up outside the entrance of Appartements Trylon in Rue Ste. Famille. Since my last visit there have been some major refurbishments: the entrance steps are now nice new shiny white marble. My room on the second floor is also refurbished, with new furnishings and a balcony.

So having arrived at the hotel, I decided that the easiest way to let people know I had arrived safely was to put a message on Facebook, which required access to a wi-fi. I couldn't be bothered to set up the netbook, so I simply walked 100 metres to the Brasserie Benelux, which was very busy, people sitting outside on the pavement as well as crowding the bar area. I recognised one or two faces behind the bar, but just ordered a glass of Alter Novis, at 7% and just under seven dollars. It was very pleasant - tasting notes to follow. Messages sent, I returned to my room and collapsed into my bed. (Figuratively speaking.)

It's now 08.00 here in Montréal, 13.00 at home, 17.00 in Volgograd, 20.00 in Krasnoyarsk, and if you want any more world times look them up for yourself.

I'm going to prepare myself for the day ahead, go and find something to eat, and then do things to pass the time until this evening - supper with Sylvain and Louise, and then off to L'Assomption, the Theatre Hector-Charland and Les Filles de Caleb!!

И несколько слов для Дарья и Ираида: сегодня в моем сердце и моей душе ты будешь там со мной,  Луиза и Сильвен - les cinq Lucequetaires!

March 18th : Geneviève Toupin and Danny Boudreau - quelle belle soirée!!!

Apologies for the delay in posting this, and any suspicion that the delay was due to my visit to L'Academie des Bières on Sunday evening would certainly be ill-founded. (….but more of that later).

I have already recounted the happenings of Friday morning, including the conversation with Danny Boudreau and the rehearsal of Alexandra and Jesse – still feel very privileged to have witnessed the rehearsal, since it was to the first time that Jesse would have accompanied Alexandra Hernandez. Normally he is a member of Danny Boudreau's band.

After consuming steak and chips, with a small pichet of red wine at a bar-bistro near the hotel, I went for a further exploration of Valence, trying to get as close to the mighty Rhone as possible. It was quite chilly, as Le Mistral was blowing, but reasonably bright. I walked down to the Champ de Mars with its impressive bandstand and down into Parc Jouvet, where several types of trees were beginning to blossom, but the Rhone remained unreachable, beyond the very busy road along its bank. Leaving the Parc and crossing the Champ de Mars I headed off to the old part of the city, with its narrow streets, market place and cathedral. There are photos to illustrate this perambulation, but it may not be possible to upload them at present, due a limited amount of internet access time at my hotel.

Later I travelled to Le Train Theatre, once again with Catherine, and we arrived in time to see Alexandra Hernandez in apero-concert before the main evening show. She was very good – the rehearsals had clearly been worthwhile. Such was the informality of the situation that I was able to congratulate Danny Boudreau on his birthday at the bar. (The wonders of FaceBook!)

Then it was time for one of my personal highlights of the festival. After 'discovering' Geneviève Toupin on Myspace in 2009, I was lucky enough to see her perform twice in one day during the Coup de Coeur Francophone festival in Montréal in the November of that year. She has the most beautiful and distinctive voice, and her songs are wonderful too. Sadly I missed the opportunity to see her in Montréal last year, first because the Icelandic volcano stopped me going at all, and then I was out of the city seeing Luce Dufault when Geneviève appeared there again last November. So, you can understand that I was really looking forward to this performance, and I wasn't disappointed - she was absolutely wonderful, and was very well received by the audience in Portes-lès-Valence.

After the interval, during which Alain, Catherine, Graham, an Australian ex-pat, and I exchanged superlatives, we went back into the auditorium to see Danny Boudreau. Originally there were to have been three artistes on Friday's bill, with the great Zachary Richard, of Louisiana, topping it. Sadly Zachary was forced to withdraw, following a stroke last September, and a recent realisation that a trip to France was not such a sensible idea. He has made an excellent recovery, but such an exhausting trip may well have been detrimental to his long term progress. So Danny opened by reading a message from Zachary, expressing disappointment at not being there, and a promise to be there on stage in the not too distant future. So then it was up to Danny to counter the disappointment of the festival-goers, and did he do it? He most certainly did. His was one of the most powerful and emotion charged performances of the week, and in particular his 'hommage' to Zachary and his music was absolutely outstanding. Danny's latest album is a tribute to some of the great francophone poets and song-writers of Canada (and Louisiana). One song “Reveille”, delivered acapella, was particularly memorable – inoubliable, in fact. Wow what a show!

And then afterwards I bought M.Boudreau's latest album ”Mes Légendes”, which he kindly signed for me. I was delighted when Geneviève eventually came out into the foyer too, and made a bee-line through the masses to have a swift word with her. She was lovely, and stunned me by remembering my name, including surname – again, the wonders of Facebook. We had a little cht and I left her to the demands of the others queueing up to speak with her, with a G.T. Badge added to my jacket. What made the evening more perfect was that much later Geneviève actually came and sought me out to say bye, and to thank me for coming so far. It was a pleasure, I can tell you, as I told her. Then it was a further handshake and farewell from Danny, before Catherine and I made our way back to Valence. An unbelievable evening. Thank you Luce Dufault! If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have been to Montréal three times, and I wouldn't have discovered such wonderful artistes, who also double as amazing people.