Tag Archives: Bristol Beacon

‘Ocean in Concert’

25 Wednesday Feb 2026

Posted by in History, Photography

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David Attenborough’s film ‘Ocean‘ was released on 8th May, 2025, his 99th birthday. In his latter years he has gone no holds barred on the damage we are doing to the natural world, and this production was no exception, quite the opposite. We need sea life for our very existence. The film does, however, end on a positive note: just how quickly the sea recovers – if we will let it. I saw the film very shortly after it came out.

When, months ago, I learned that it was to be shown in the Bristol Beacon, as part of a very short tour, with a live orchestra and vocal ensemble, under the name ‘Ocean in Concert’, I was intrigued, and booked myself a place. The accompanying score was written by Steven Price, whose scoring debut was in 2011 to Joe Cornish’s ‘Attack the Block’. Last night’s performance was the first of five around the UK and Ireland. The orchestra was that of the Welsh National Opera, and the singers were the London Voices.

It looked to be a sellout. I had an interesting seat, not that I knew it would be when I booked.

It was a very interesting experience, neither concert not film, and I’m really really glad I was there. And yes, I did enjoy it, but I could have enjoyed it more. I confess that, like many, I am not normally very aware of the musical score to nature films, and I am sometimes annoyed at its intrusiveness. I have been persuaded however in the past of its desirability. But here, one was both at an orchestral concert and at a film, subtitled at that. I didn’t know where to look – at the orchestra, as I would at concert, and I wanted to, or at the visuals. Mostly of course I looked at the film, distracted sometimes by the subtitles, which I think were unnecessary. Perfect for sale to foreign audiences, but Attenborough has perfect diction. As they had clearly been able to strip the film of its score, the subtitles could have been removed as well – I don’t recall there being any last May.

It felt like sensory overload, but I cannot be sure that this wasn’t because it was so, so LOUD. Each player was miked up, I learned later, as were the six singers. The need for the latter I can understand, but it would have been so good to hear the orchestra naked, as it were, as orchestras at the venue are normally of course. As a result, Attenborough’s commentary was also very, very LOUD. So I can’t tell whether my less-than-perfect pleasure was because of the intense volume or because of trying to split my brain between music and vision.

I marvelled at the perfect co-ordination between music and vision, thinking that the conductor, Robert Ziegler, must have rehearsed a great deal to get his tempi correct, and have all text cues and clues very clearly indicated in his score.

There was a 25-minute interval, plenty of time for both a chocolate ice cream (Marshfield is an excellent local maker) and wandering around a bit. The Bristol Beacon is the recently refurbished former Colston Hall, renamed very belatedly after local protests that it had retained so long the name of a local slave trader.

I took a look from the doorway into the smaller Lantern Hall, which I’d never seen before, but didn’t go further or take a photo as there was some kind of exhibition going on, with stalls of people selling not wares but ideas.

I did take a few other desultory photos (transferred epithet, I know!) I’d like to have taken more, but there were – literally – hundreds of people milling around the more expansive views.

On returning to my place, I took the opportunity to ask the young man on the right in my first picture what he was doing. It was fascinating. He pointed out a screen at the conductor’s podium, and said that he was transmitting instructions to the him to ensure that co-ordination I had so wondered at. I do wish I had had time to ask many more detailed questions as to precisely how! As it was, I learned from him that the person on the left was the sound engineer. How I wish I’d had the courage to say that I was finding the whole thing very LOUD!

The remaining four performances are: this Saturday, 28th February, at the Royal Festival Hall, Sunday at Birmingham’s Symphony Hall, each of those with the CBSO, then 7th March in the Dublin 3Arena, (Ulster Orchestra) and finally in the Edinburgh Usher Hall on March 12th with the Scottish Ensemble. All conducted by Robert Ziegler, and with, basically, the same singers. I would urge anyone who has to chance to go, despite my comments. It was an amazing experience – and who knows, after this premiere last night, others’ comments may cause them to turn the volume down a bit.

Finally, a Bristol coda. I was in the city just two days earlier on what turned out to be a self-inflicted wild goose chase. While I was in the Millennium Square I saw, this. No, I have no idea. I’ll check next time.

The Belmont Estate

25 Tuesday Jul 2023

Posted by in History, Photography, Wildlife

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All day Saturday, it was absolutely tipping it down here in Somerset, so I wasn’t too sure that the outdoor concert I had booked for the following day would take place. It rained early Sunday morning, but the weather gods chose to be kind in the afternoon. The roadworks gods weren’t so kind as I drove for what should have been about an hour. They added ten minutes to my journey there and a good 20 minutes on the way back, and shredded my nerves as I backed up along narrow country lanes, but we won’t dwell on that.

The Belmont Estate, a few miles west of Bristol, is private and cannot be visited by the general public. To quote from its website, “At Belmont, environmental restoration, sustainable food production and the reconnection of people to nature, food and one another underpin all that we do.

“It’s this ethos that led to the development of our regenerative farm, ground-breaking rewilding and rewetting project and our free nature-based education program, which are all delivered with the crucial support of corporate partnerships and offsetting projects that benefit both people and the planet.”

It’s history can be found here. The Rossiter family have been working on the present project since 2012.

The car park was very near to the Walled Garden, where the concert was to take place. As I made my way to the food stall where I planned to buy my lunch, this was ahead of me.

The food stalls were pizza or Ubuntu. I chose the latter. This is all I have been able to find out about Ubuntu, (since I don’t think it is the same-named computer operating system that inspired the pop-up food service.)

The generous tub of food was delicious. I did not take the added prawn option.

First glimpse of the Walled Garden

I hoped to eat my lunch in one of the comfy chairs I had seen, but was gently rebuffed; they were for those with wristbands, meaning VIPs. So I slipped inside the concert area, and found a bench at the side of it.

Not a bad view as I ate my lunch.

Placing my plastic bag with cushion and my jacket to reserve a place to sit, I went to the bar where I bought a half of cider, and returned.

The concert, entitled ‘Music of Reflection’ was to be by string players from the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra, which is in residence this coming season at the Bristol Beacon, the long overdue new name of the Colston Hall, currently being refurbished, and reopening at the end of November.

The nearly hour-long programme included music by Purcell, Bach, the contemporary American Jessie Montgomery, Corelli, the modern British Richard Nye, Eric Whittaker and Britten. I’m pleased to say that all of the modern pieces were pleasant on the ear.

(The smoke to the right is from the Ubuntu food stall. The speakers were used to play recorded light piano music before and after the concert. I could have done without it, especially afterwards. For me it spoiled the atmosphere left by the live music just played.)

I was happy to be sitting no further back, since the sound was not very loud even where I was. Perhaps it was being absorbed by the tent.

They didn’t say ‘No recording’ so I just clipped this small portion of Liszt’s arrangement of the Bach theme ‘Air on a G-string’. I don’t think the commercial recording companies have anything to fear from it.

The woman sitting to the left was the presenter, and, presumably, orchestral manager, (general minder at a concert).

The lawn around the seating was, pleasingly, not just grass, but a variety of green plants. At my feet, this tiny, 3mm diameter, flower had escaped the mower.

Other wildlife divertissements were huge dragonflies, butterflies, and this buzzard which flew overhead a couple of times.

And the sun, out for all of the concert, was HOT!

The Bristol Beacon had had to cancel a jazz concert on the same site the previous day because of the weather. Their CEO said that there would be ‘a’ jazz concert starting about an hour after the end of this one. The audience was invited to stay on for it, but I chose not to.

I would love to have explored the grounds before returning to my car, but there were stewards clearly placed to prevent just such. I took such photos as I could by going a very slightly longer way back to where my car was parked than was necessary.

Either side of the musicians’ playing area were raised vegetable beds.

My ‘long’ way round took me past a wildflower area.

A backward look
Small heath butterfly, I think, though I’m puzzled by the tiny secondary white spot.
The trees line the incredibly long avenue along which vehicles arrive, which leave the property a completely different way.

A pleasant excursion, and now I know something about the Belmont Estate, even if I haven’t seen too much of it!

A day-long holiday in Bath

17 Thursday Mar 2022

Posted by in History, Museums, Photography

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I was ridiculously excited on Sunday, feeling as if I were going on holiday the following day, not just out for a few hours in a beautiful city. I had clear plans and was slightly worried that I would be disappointed as I drove home, so much I was looking forward to living them. But no, all worked out perfectly. (Except that I took far too many photos and have had great difficulty in cutting down their number.)

Actually, it wasn’t even a full day. I left home at 1 o’clock, after an early lunch, and drove trouble-free to the Odd Down Park and Ride in Bath. In the few minutes I had to wait for a bus, I browsed the map in the shelter.

As we drew near to the turn-round point near Bath Spa station, from my upstairs front seat I snapped the car park I planned to use later. (I thought my evening activity might well end too late for the last bus back to Odd Down.)

Conscious that the evening’s entertainment was to be at a venue nearby, I recce’d as I got off the bus, and there it was, the Forum.

I made my way northwards, and slightly east.

The Abbey, the Roman Baths, and a restaurant
Round the back of the Abbey, there are no more crowds. On the right, the small Alkmaar Garden, celebrating the friendship between Bath and Alkmaar, liberated on 5th May 1945.

Behind me was Parade Garden of and from which I took the next few photos.

Bath is quite proud of its floral competition success!

Back up from the garden, a better view of the celebrated Pulteney Bridge over the River Avon.

I used it to cross over the river, and looked back having done so, but you can’t tell that you are actually on a bridge.

I arrived at Laura Place, and could see the length of Great Pulteney Street, with the Holburne Museum, my destination, at the end.

A ‘VR’ pillar box, with sadly the key letters in shade. This is a Penfold pillar box, a model cast between 1866 and 1879. (You can buy one for £1200, though I imagine it is a modern reproduction.)

I arrived at the Holburne Museum. Yes, I know. It’s part of one of their exhibitions called ‘Old Ghosts‘ which ‘invites visitors to engage with and challenge the perceived notions of power and authority that sit at the heart of many museum collections’ So now you know.

But it was not that exhibition which I was there to see. I was visiting ‘The Tudors: Passion, Power & Politics’. A small room, with not many pictures – all portraits, I think, on loan from the National Portrait Gallery – and probably all the better for that. The room was fairly dark, and my camera makes these selected photos look brighter than my eyes saw them, but not brighter than they really are.

Henry VIII, aged about 30, and Katherine of Aragon. Both painted around 1630 and both by unknown artists.
Henry VIII of course, about 17 years later, after Hans Holbein
Anne Boleyn – I failed to note the artist. Now, does the expression on those pursed lips not remind of the same on a certain present-day female British politician?
Sir Philip Sidney, described as the ideal Renaissance courtier. Unidentified artist, c 1576.
Elizabeth I, the ‘Darnley’ portrait, c. 1575. Reds have faded over the years, ‘making the queen appear paler than originally intended’.
Mary, Queen of Scots, 1578, after Nicholas Hilliard.
Elizabeth I, one of the ‘Armada’ portraits, c. 1588

It had not taken me long to go round the exhibition, which had portraits also of Henry VII, Edward VI, Mary I and Lady Jane Grey, the other wives, and other contemporary politicians, courtiers and explorers. I had a brief look around this room

with exhibits by staff volunteers and visitors to the museum, including

I had not visited the Holburne Museum before. It is centred on the vast collection amassed by Sir William Holburne (1793-1874) and left to the City of Bath on his death. I visited all the other rooms, briefly, and realised I could not do them justice in the time and energy I had available.

On the way, pictures along the stairs caught my eye for various reasons.

The Dead Soldier, Joseph Wright, c.1789. I could not help thinking of all the mothers and children, Ukrainian and Russian, grieving their husbands and fathers right now.
Garton Orme at the Spinet, Jonathan Richardson the Elder, c. 1707-8. The young man ‘failed to live up to the charm of this early portrait. He is said to have murdered his wife, incurred considerable debts, and sold half the family property.’
Still Life with Fruit and Shellfish, Cornelis Bryer, fl. 1634-1671. Here just because I liked it.

In another room I saw more Old Ghosts, but there were interesting things on the walls and in cabinets also.

I was particularly pleased by this ‘Marriage of Bacchus and Ariadne’ by Pierre-Jacques Cazes, (1676-1754). Two days previously I had seen at my local cinema, livestreamed from the Met(ropolitan Opera, New York), Richard Strauss’s ‘Ariadne auf Naxos‘. The libretto ends with the meeting and falling in love of the pair, after Ariadne has been abandoned on the island by her former lover, Theseus. This painting ends the story nicely.

Incidentally, I had been impressed that, as the camera panned round the Met’s audience, every single person was wearing a mask – it is presumably the law still in the USA. Not only that, all members of the orchestra did as well, except those playing wind instruments. I was in a small minority of visitors in the museum wearing one – a trusty FFP3 mask. And at the cinema where I had seen the livestream. No wonder, as I read, cases are going down in the States and rising sharply here.

A volunteer insisted that I look at this ‘gruesome’ dish. As I learned, when I mentioned my interest in the previous picture, that he had heard the same livestream on Radio 3 on the Saturday, I indulged him.

The Beheading of John the Baptist, French, probably Fontainebleau, between 1580 and 1620.
Tripartite bell salt, English silver-gilt, 1613-14.
Pieta, Italian, Patanazzi workshop, 1580-1600, (An inkstand!)
Meissen, lady’s chamberpot

From now on I just wandered without noting what things were. The next room was the most spectacular, and really needs revisiting to do justice to all its contents. These were Holburne’s treasures.

It was time for the coffee and cake I had promised myself, to fill in the time until the museum closed at 5 o’clock. And then a gentle walk back, a longer way round, to the bus stop for the Park and Ride.

As I retuned over Pulteney Bridge, I thought it no wonder that the shop was closing down, if it relied on sales of fly-fishing dogs.

On my longer way back, I saw these in quick succession. Hardly surprising in a city known for its healing waters.

This however was the name of a different kind of watering – or rather eating – place.

I arrived at the Theatre Royal, and was disappointed to find that its street level was marred by works. (Note, not so much the gull in the air and on the edge, but the rather more ferocious birds at the windows on the right.)

My longer way round took me to a less eye-pleasing area, but the old industrial building on the other side of the Avon was interesting – zooming in shows that it is now converted into flats, including a no doubt very prized and pricey penthouse apartment.

On the bus, I again had an upstairs front seat.

A packed meal waited me in my car. Rather than try to be imaginative as to where I could eat it, consuming it in my car in the Park and Ride car park, watching the sun go down through the trees, seemed as practical as any.

I arrived back in the Forum, a converted cinema, in very good time. The concert I was to attend was under the auspices of the Bristol Beacon, the new name of the former Colston Hall, and currently closed for ‘transformation’, except for its foyer which remains open for smaller scale events.

After a quick drink in the rather crowded entrance area, I went into the hall as soon as I could, perused the (free!) programme, and admired all the art deco work. I had selected a seat which I hoped would be fairly well away from the most popular area, and was pleased that it had remained so after later bookings.

Members of the London Symphony Orchestra made their way in gradually. (Like the Met’s orchestra, they were masked except for wind players – and unlike two-thirds of the audience.) I had not heard this orchestra live since I left London in 1975. I wondered if any of them were in the orchestra then. And I realised that most of them hadn’t even been born at that time!

And the maestro came in. Sir Simon Rattle, whom I had never seen in the flesh. The programme gives a fairly conventional biography. But I remember when he hit the musical scene back in the 70s, aged barely 20, a se most attractive young man with a huge talent, and clearly going places!

A most enjoyable concert, which was livestreamed, and can be for a month , to care homes throughout the UK: Hannah Kendall, ‘The Spark Catchers’ (which was sparky but not spiky); Dvorak, ‘American Suite; and Schumann, Symphony No 2, of which I particularly liked the third movement.

I was home by 10.00. A lovely day’s holiday.