“From a girl in your position, I expected better lies.”

I looked at Kate over my glass of water: “Don’t quote Rossini to me in the interval” I practically cried with laughter. “I merely read you a text I sent to our fellow gardener choir friend to say that the window boxes she had planted for you had died.”
“Yes!  But what’s with the little blushing emotocon next to it with the rolling eyes heavenwards?!”

I giggled uncontrollably, in fact my stomach hurt.

The Barber of Seville had us in stitches, but in fairness we were off to a flying start with a pre-opera drink at Dukes Bar.  You know winter has truly arrived when you find yourself with a cocktail trolley table-side and Alessandro the master barman conjuring up a couple of killer martinis.

I’d texted Kate on my way: “Darling.  I’m a bit glammed up for our soiree this evening.  Suffice to say the fur has come out, the diamante fingerless gloves are on .. One can never start too early with the sparkle at this time of year.”

Her response was deadly and to the point: “Where are you?”

I was excited, very excited.  I hadn’t been to the opera for quite a while and us choral girls do like to get with the programme.

We beat a hasty retreat from Dukes just in time for curtain up at ENO. Once the music started I was lost, transported, thrilled and elated by an orchestra, sumptuous staging and a class performance.

There’s always a letter in these situations and The Barber of Seville is no exception.  It was passed from pillar to post to effectively convey the message that: ‘Love’s dart has pierced so deep’.

Too right it had.  Soaring into sweetness, Rosina convinced us that she was, entirely, smitten. Bartolo got shaved – he always does in this opera, and then everybody started dressing up as someone else and chasing each other around the set.

It was exhausting but exhilarating.  Much like love in fact.  Even the maid sang about it, words to the effect of ‘Young and old are both in danger, love has made them lose their heads’. She went so far as to say that it was a ‘Grave indisposition’.

She wasn’t wrong. It caused the lovers to miss a handily found ladder to facilitate their escape, so intent were they on each other. No matter, it all worked out in the end.
“Shall we softly, or was it ‘safely’ slip away?” I said to my singing pal as we stood to applaud.  “Yes, let’s. But, let’s do it again soon.”