A few fortnights ago the Traveller got invited to a society luncheon - a singular occasion to mingle with the aborigines. The hosts - a Musician and an architect provided for an unconstrained and gay atmosphere. The main attraction - apart from the all so interesting chit-chat - turned out to be cutlet singing performed by an incredibly vocally endowed tenor imported from a country that in the good days of the past used to provide for the citrus fruit transports ornamenting Christmas gaiety of my own Remote Nation. The high Cs of La Fille du régiment aria perfectly matched the bloody juiciness of the steaks. Apparently - as the host did not miss the opportunity to explain - this miraculous use of the vocal cords was apparently due
to a singularity of the corporal construction of the singer that allowed for the much better support of the marvellous voice.This turned to be only the 1st of a series of musical entertainments.
The following morrow a vocal soirée was organised and held at the premises belonging to the Pianist's Begetters. The splendours of a perfect Donostiarra masonry work (nothing that Baron Hausmann would be ashamed of a mere 150 years before this charming bit of the Town was built) were filled by aunties of all kinds. The noble matres familias merrily mingled with the cream of the City Queens. How enchanting, how colourful. A scene worth Almodovar and Buñuel. The arias were song, La fille repeated. This time the Tenor instead of the cutlet got a match in person of another performer: a local Soprano. After La tarántula é un bicho mu malo one could only wish for the Dance of Seven Veils... with or without the Tenor.
... Ah Better with, cried the Aunties.
"
