Back From Britannia

After a rather invigorating, if gloomy-weathered week in London, I have returned. The convention was quite exciting, with a wide variety of lectures and seminars to choose from, ranging from 'Reinventing Third Position' to 'Pilates On Pointe'.

My contribution to the event was organizing and presiding over the 'Classic Canesmanship' workshop. Most of the attendees had difficulty with the size and weight of the examples I provided, even though they were generally lighter than my own. One young woman from Germany even sprained her wrist. I must say despite that they were overall a rather disappointing bunch with little in the way of discipline required to master the fine art of wielding a dancemistress' cane. Pity. They might have tried harder had they seen how I dealt with the presumptuous young flight attendant who tried to relieve me of my cane. I daresay she won't be giving seat belt and oxygen mask demonstrations any time soon.

I did manage to find some time to stop at Harrod's and buy Christmas presents for Meg and Erik. For my daughter I selected a dainty rhinestone tiara for her to wear to the Masquerade Ball. For our cantankerous Phantom, I purchased a set of rose-shaped silver cufflinks. Oh, and for that pampered Siamese cat I picked out a collar charm in the shape of a mousetrap.

I do wonder how Meg and her reluctant babysitter have fared during my absence. The Opera hasn't burned to the ground, I see, so that's a good start. The chandelier is still hanging from the Auditorium ceiling, another encouraging sign. The hallways aren't running with blood... oh wait, that's one of Meg's little stories about the Opera Ghost.

Well, it's time for me to begin the long descent to the Fifth Cellar and see if things are as peaceful down below.