Concert shoes

The festival continues. All six of Bach's cello suites this evening: two and a half-hours' worth played impressively from memory by Pieter Wispelwey. He's famous. He's revered. But after the playfulness of the last two evenings, I found it too serious. I felt as if he was playing because he was on the programme, not for the love of the music nor the joy of playing nor out of a passion to share it with us. For me things started to come alive only in the sixth suite.

The Sheldonian Theatre, designed by Wren and performed in by Handel (and me, once) is so staggeringly uncomfortable that I'm not all that surprised that a relieved audience stands to clap. But that's unfair and I was clearly in a minority since there were stamps and cheers too. His encore was exquisite.