Opera Ignoramus

At my beloved school, as in workplace (but so much more than that - go on, do a little throw up), we have ourselves a 'cultural enrichment programme'. The programme dictates the cultural experiences that we want each child to be exposed to and at what stage. The boss man is a strong advocate of the arts in childhood and sees this as a large component of our own school culture.

I'm with him. It's a great initiative.
Maybe if I were exposed to more 'culture' as a child I might not look so ignorant when I'm with snooties and snobs. I may be better equipped to effect pompous nodding and roll out "daaarrrling" with ease.

Don't get me worng.
There was plenty of culture in my upbringing. Many weekends were steeped in culture. We studied at length traditional, Irish culture - the national sports, music, merriment and even the national beverages on tap in wonderful establishments with names like "Rosie O'Grady's" and "The Blarney Castle".

The language of my youth was rich and colourful. My small town Irish folks were so 'cultured' that they had a dear oriental friend. We never got to meet "Fook", but he sure was referred to a lot around our place.
We were encouraged to behave and complete chores in his honour.
"For Fook's sake..." they'd say.
"C'mon to Fook" was a common one, but we still never got to him.
It appears the poor man must have met a fiery end though,  'cause many a time "Fook in hell" was uttered with a heavenward roll of the eyes. Bless him.

I seriously digress...
Since being catapulted up the school a few weeks ago, the cultural programme has gone from visiting the museum to now mean  - opera.

Opera. The sum total of my opera knowledge + opera experience = zero.


So, yesterday off I did trot with sixty four of my closet ten year old friends to His Majesty's Theatre in the city. We were issued our individual tickets (oh, the excitement!) and ushered to our seats in chaotic school child fashion. The performance was more of an 'opera educational' and we were walked through snippets from the more well known (by more cultured and less Irish folk, obviously) operas. The dresses were eye catching, the orchestra awesome, the voices stunning... but what on Earth were they saying? I preferred the non English performances, because at least then they were kind enough to put a rough translation on the screen nearby. I had to look sternly at the students whispering "Mrs, when does this finish?", "Mrs, what are they saying?", "What did you bring for lunch?", but really I was grateful for the interruption and escape as the magnet in my heavy head drooped towards the magnet in my not so heavy chest.

Cultured or ignorant, I don't care.
I do not like opera.
The End.

Shar :-)

Because no post is complete without a Magoo reference - look who might just be dragging Mummy to the ballet next?