“…to create an awareness on a global level of this world-class orchestra” is what he said. The words of our new, and oh so young, Finnish music director (Pietari Inkinen) who has been described as exciting, so talented, and particularly brilliant. With such glorious aclaim, I wonder what precautions are required to keep a sense of balance so necessary for one who must stand on a podium with both his back and feet so close to a sheer drop off the edge of the stage. But I do have to admit that he is certainly good - indeed quite exceptionally good. Our national orchestra has never played better, and world-class is indeed what it is.

Being way too early the other night we diverted two blocks to our favourite secondhand bookstore for a pre-concert browse. One has to be careful not to lose track of the time in there, and that was certainly true when I unearthed a pristine copy (printed in China - what a surprise!) of the complete short stories of one Katherine Mansfield. Wellington’s child, famous daughter of our beautiful harbour capital, she spent a full first five years on this soil before being swept back to Mother England and further abroad, thereafter disparaging of her native beginnings other than what of the culture could contribute to her literary works. With the pristine printed-in-China copy underarm anyway, we set off in time to be wowed by the wizardry of the wand, that curious little stick that draws out of the strings, brass and woodwind, all the magic there is to be heard in the music.

From our usual place three rows from the front, a little below eye-level with the ankles of the first violins, we can watch with awe the deft fingerplay, closeup facial expressions and other such fascinating detail. Humans are a funny lot. Who would have thought to compose music where first and second violins play in unison but one semitone distant from each other? It did little for me, and neither for most according to the scant enthusiasm in the applause to follow. It would have been interesting to hear an honest opinion from various players as to what they really thought of Rautavaara’s “A Tapestry of Life” and whether they would even be bothered with doing it again. The British cellist, Natalie Clein, is certainly clever on her strings and the sounds, set in order by Piotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, were exquisitely wonderful. But the facial expressions were agonizing. So much pained emotion! One hardly knew where to look, as though watching was a kind of voyeurism and such intimacy with the music should surely be kept just a little more private than given a full frontal display. Then our young conductor himself, so energetic and enthusiastic that my heart was left in my mouth, praying he would not poke himself in the eye - or up the nose - with his own baton. But it was as he said “…to create an awareness on a global level of this world-class orchestra” and surely, with each new performance, this certainly deserves to be done. On this occasion Mahler’s “Titan” was spectacular!

How does one keep humble when so much praise is heaped on one’s head? I can suggest one certain technique that sure works for me, and that is to brave the questions of the morning newspaper’s Five Minute Quiz. It would seem that unless one has a headful of Hollywood nonsense, the who’s-sleeping-with-who-this-time-around logs, then one is fated to swallow a dose of the humbles. An average score of three out of ten is hardly star quality, and I must admit to being a failure in all this Real Life. So much is going on out there, and I know so little. Fortunately my cat comes to the rescue. Her insistence that breakfast is the most important meal of the day eventually overrides my resolve to stay bedridden until my brain catches up with these important world events. Thank goodness for small mercies - a quiz score that indicates such a hopeless case, and the incessant mewing of a hungry cat. I can recommend both for a good sense of proportion. However, those who read what else I write here will know that is far from my first recommendation. As the broadcasters say… we can expect normal transmission to be resumed shortly.