International London

A week of culture has brought a fine dash of national stereotypes to London. The Alban Berg Quartet were magnificent, almost inverting Beethoven so some great Germanic soul was revealed. The American Ballet Theatre were sheer verve, a thrill of togetherness and daring, a vibrant company. And Vadim Repin capped the week last night with a violin performance of utter virtuosity, a tall heavily-built phlegmatic and phlegmatic man, marching on and off the stage. Ravel had provided him with some gypsy flourishes, but the man needs someone to write him a truly impossible piece so he finally has a real challenge. Or maybe he should try Heifetz's trick of playing Bach's double violin concerto as a solo on one violin. I'm told Heifetz barely cracked a smile in performance either.
A Scottish writer friend recently surprised me by coming to live in London. Why London? I asked ... you hate England. London isn't England, he replied. it's an international city.
As an Englishman I'm not ready to be denied my capital ... but I get his point.