I saw with misgivings last spring that the opera season ticket this autumn included Eugene Onegin. I even considered selling the ticket, but then I thought it couldn't be that bad at this late stage. It was. During the intermission I pushed over a full glass of red wine on the parapet and on my programme. I fled to the toilet and left it to dribble down into a pool by the wall.

But it's no use crying over spilt wine, either. I didn't.


The performance, a joint production with Covent Garden, was good, and Soile Isokoski an excellent Tatyana. The house was full, and the atmosphere warm and exhilarated.