Billy Joel appears on stage at the end of a performance of Twyla Tharp's "Movin' Out" and sings a few numbers. It appears that nearly everyone in the audience is a tourist, since we all have cameras on our persons and begin snapping away in blatant disregard of theatre rules.
Thursday, February 9, 2006 (LAX)
I walk down the jetway to flight QF12 to Sydney and find myself right behind Hugh Jackman. No chance to compliment him on his Curly in Oklahoma! — he is whisked off to first class and I head the other way. Sigh.
The Cleveland Plain Dealer noted my departure in today's issue (my one-and-a-half column inches of fame), as did Zach Lewis on cleveland.com.
The PD link won't hang around, so here's the transcript:
Thursday, February 09, 2006 Apollo's Fire staffer heading to Sydney
Yvonne Frindle, former artistic administrator of Apollo's Fire, the Cleveland Baroque Orchestra, has been appointed concert programs editor of the Sydney Symphony in her native Australia. Frindle, 34, starts Tuesday. During her three-year tenure in Cleveland, she wrote program notes and gave pre-concert lectures for Apollo's Fire and presented pre-concert programs at Severance Hall.
Note that all-important phrase: "starts Tuesday". This was on Thursday. Bearing in mind that I would lose a day crossing the international date line, it was a clear case of no rest for the wicked...
No, not the theatre piece of Twyla Tharp and Billy Joel (although the latter's music did accompany some of the action). This was a carefully choreographed drama of calloused fingers, torn cuticles and bruised thighs as I packed and itemised 50-plus cartons in just under a week. Why oh why, I ask, do I have quite so many books and CDs...?
Once it was all done (and there were a couple of all-night vigils in the mix as well) I got to sit back and watch the experts pack the kitchen and encase my treasured furniture in industrial-strength bubble wrap. They kindly left the armchair until last.
Once everything I was moving had begun its journey to Sydney, I looked around and realised I'd come full circle: one borrowed chair, a crappy table, and a foam mattress on the floor...
Then it was time for the grand declutter. I thought I was decluttering back in December (ha!), but this was the Real Thing and required the aid of many good friends and much good humour... Thank you Sara, Charlotte, Lynne, Gail, Dan, Cheryl, and René — I couldn't have done it without you.
Tonight I said farewell to the piano that has given me so much pleasure (and, on occasion, assured my sanity) over the past few years. It's reassuring to know that it's going to be in good hands, but I can't help but feel bereft: it will be many months before I can once more indulge in Cole Porter, Chopin and Couperin in the privacy of my own home.
(That's Scarlatti on the music desk: The Cat Fugue.)