I'm enjoying a fantastic busy fortnight working at Clonter Opera in deepest darkest sunniest Cheshire.  I remember hearing the name Clonter with some fascination as an undergraduate student at the RNCM and I do have a strong sense of déjà-vu, although my memory won't stretch quite that far back.  Hailed by some as the Glyndebourne of the North, Clonter is a fantastic endeavour for singers seeking to gain experience of some of the core operatic repertoire and it boasts strong links with the RNCM.  If it wasn't for the signage you would be forgiven for mistaking Clonter for just another Cheshire dairy farm.  My drive to work past droves of cows lolling along their well-hooved path from pasture to parlour with bovine discipline is proof of the terrain.  In effect, it is an opera theatre in a barn.  How cool is that?  You can find out more about Clonter's fascinating creator Jeffery Lockett and his brainchild by copying this into your browser: https://www.clonter.org/about-clonter/jeffery-lockett/

I arrived bright and early last Saturday morning and had a quick car catnap in the quietest car park you could ever imagine before polishing off my breakfast, having been warmly greeted by Chief Executive Isabella and her faithful companion Cedar the spaniel who, in her tenth year, seems to be something of a Clonter legend.  Isabella is a legend in her own right of course.   One of three Lockett daughters, she ensures the smooth running of the Clonter Farm Music Trust along with her siblings.  I unloaded my harp after being shown the best route into the pit (what, no lift?!) and was helped by another stalwart Clonter personage who goes more than the extra mile to ease all things backstage, the lovely Mel.  A natural multitasker, she assumes her role as Production Manager and Stage Manager with the greatest of ease, and I remember her from my more recent RNCM postgrad days.  As my colleagues arrived, I felt reassured to see some familiar faces and the new ones proved very friendly - there's a genuine sense of camaraderie in the pit.

With three consecutive six hour rehearsal days kicking off at 10am, and to break down the driving, I stayed over one night at one of the nicest most peaceful hotels I've ever experienced!  I slept like one of the trunks outside my window.  Everything about Cheshire screams bucolic idyll.

In keeping with my healthy eating plan, I took my own food most days but on Sunday night, I enjoyed the luxury of a naughty chocolatey indulgence.  I'm sure I play better when I've had my cocoa fix:

I've played in quite a few productions of La Bohème and this is an interesting experience in that it's the chamber version scored for just thirteen lucky players.  Unsure what to expect, I wasn't disappointed - the luscious plenitude and delicate intimacy of Puccini's delicious timeless score remains the feast it was the first time I savoured it some twenty years ago.   

I'm one of the luckiest - some of my colleagues have never played Bohème before and devoid of a bigger section of the same instrument playing the same part, I marvel at their skill in managing the negotiation of such a difficult score overflowing with vertiginously tricky corners that just has to be known by heart.  How would you explain the broad spacious freedom that is key to Puccini's music?  Performing with guts, gusto and increasing swagger, the band sounds impressive in spite of, or possibly due to its reduced forces.  It feels great to be unofficially part of a section and I'm perched next to the cello with bass behind just to my left and violins directly in front, and the woodwinds and percussion are facing us on the opposite side for a change.  It works.  I'm so used to hearing the winds that it's great to hear the string parts with such clarity.  That's one of the best things about a lengthier project like this.  We've already had 18 hours rehearsal and both dress rehearsal and opening night are now behind us.  It's been way too long since I relished the indulgence of a long sequence of rehearsals - every time I get into that pit I hear something new as I start to feel more relaxed about my part in the whole process.  I love that, when I get to that stage where I feel so comfortable with it.  I'm not quite there yet and I will always have a bit of practice to do to deepen my knowledge of and refamiliarise myself with a part that is so well written that it falls easily and comfortably under the feet and fingers.  It's like meeting up with an intimate old friend again after quite a few years.  I'm probably the oldest one in the pit except our seasoned conductor, Clive.  He has over forty performances of Bohème under his belt and thus a very clear idea of what he wants.  In guiding the full voiced exceptionally talented budding cast past the pitfalls of what can be a treacherous piece, he can be a hard task master in what is clearly a beloved work.  He certainly kept us on our toes in rehearsal!

I do have a very soft spot for opera and one of the things I enjoy most is walking in through the backstage area past an enviable array of intriguing props and equipment.  Cue Mel and her team.  The oysters look toxically tasty and there will be snow in July.  As for the beverages, I'm not giving anything away.  Designer Grace Venning has conceived an imaginative atmospheric sepia hued traditional set and costumes and there's an intoxicating Frenchness about the entire production that leaves me with a feeling of peering into the shared accommodation of impoverished students in the gods of Parisian gables with their sublime voices and warm hearts as their only riches.   The set transforms miraculously into the breezy atmosphere of Café Momus for Act 2.  Jiggling old school light bulbs suspended from what look like a very basic piñata dangling from the ceiling remind me of the importance of lighting and I'm amazed at what can be achieved on what must be a shoestring budget by operatic standards with the clever creative skill of continental lighting designer Petr Vocka.  It's difficult to tear my eyes from the stage which I can see very clearly, and that brings me to the other reason I love Puccini operas - I rarely put my harp down.  He uses the harp with such variety of colour and precision that it's always a privilege to be offered a chance to perform in any of his masterpieces.  Thanks to the genius of Puccini's "verismo", there shouldn't be a dry eye in the house.      

At Clonter, the ambience is easily intimate and there's a convivial family feel to everything, from the homely meals offered on rehearsal days featuring the most amazing sausage roll I ever tasted to the mouth watering cakes I managed to resist until Wednesday night.  It was the dress rehearsal and we were all warmly invited to supper afterwards.  I had some delicious potatoes and a cheeky slice of baguette, not a continental prop I hasten to add.  And I succumbed to the heavenly fruity meringue, but not the freely flowing wine, which I was told was excellent.  Despite elegantly taking my leave Cinderella style to face my long drive home, it was really good to go and get to know my pit, onstage and offstage colleagues a bit better and find out more about this amazing place.  

Oh, and I did it, my long awaited pool dive.  I managed to contain my exuberant enthusiasm until day two when we had a longer lunch break.  It didn't disappoint.  I tried to enthuse a couple of my colleagues who were quite rightly curious about the moves I'd learnt in my Aquafit classes, but I don't think I'll be giving up my day job...