Well, it's been quite a break from lessons, with Arthur away for three weeks and me having a dose of the 'flu. Some practice got done but not a hell of a lot.

A little too late, today, I remembered my new policy of not having any dietary stimulants on a Sunday before my lesson. Oops! Lunch at Rosalie with friends involved a vegetarian pizza, 375 ml lemon, lime and bitters, a very large helping (yes, alright, a slab) of white chocolate cheesecake with ice cream and cream and chocolate sauce and a flat white with two teaspoons of sugar. A good two hours later, I was still buzzing and consequently played like a chimpanzee. Not good.

Arthur and I talked about his meeting Ashkenazy back stage, in the 1970's, in Melbourne. He said most pianists like to be greeted after their performance and be given good feedback. He said that after the applause, it could be quite deflating to find yourself in a hotel room, alone and exhausted from the performance.

I really hadn't thought of it that way. I simply assumed that artists, of any sort, wouldn't want to be bothered with the P.D.F ('pathetic and dreaded fans') or worse still, the triple heifers (F.F.F. or 'fat female fans'). In fact, I have heard two sad tales of fans (neither members of the PDF or the FFF, mind you) coming to grief at the stage door.

One, whilst waiting for a different member of the cast of a West End play, was told by an actor who will be nameless (Dennis Waterman), "Oh, go home you poor cow!"

At a Melbourne stage door, after waiting alone in the dark for about an hour and a half, another lass was brusquely told by her, then, favourite artist, "If you wanted an autograph, you should have left your program at the stage door, I'm not doing it now." I wonder how she was supposed to know that.

In general, I don't agree with autographs. I think it is a bit demeaning for those who ask for it and for those who give it. This is especially so since the advent of Evil Bay. However, (God, I can feel a fully fledged rant coming on - oh well, I'll blame it on the cheesecake, even if it was so delicious that it was worth every blasted calorie) a friendly smile, a five word comment like "glad you enjoyed the show" and a moment of time costs virtually nothing, whereas, to the fan, it can provide an invaluable and cherished memory.

There should be, in my presently less than humble opinion, a return to the stage door etiquette of the official receiving of fans, a la the 1920s and 30s. Theatres could even provide the artists with faux fur coats, fedoras and a short trip (sorry, 'journey') back to their car in a limousine for the purpose thereof.

Okay, back to the lesson. (I'm procrastinating because the playing really was abysmally crappy).

1. Two baroque pieces of old, revamped (Domenico Scarlatti and somebody else - blimey, I really have had too much sugar today): fine but, as usual, too much pedal (why can't everything sound romantic?).

2. Chopin Ballade no. 4 : Stuck in the same two/three bars for the last two weeks. We spoke about techniques of practice (i.e. about pulling the finger out and getting the thing learnt - sorry, shouldn't say that about piano practice - that was also the cheesecake talking - I wonder if there was anything else in it?)

3. Rachmaninov (both pieces) coming along okay: notes are in the fingers now but both pieces need to be played through and through for fluency.

I want to find an old CD by a guy called David Baril-Ellan (sp?). Last time the internet trail was very cold. Hmmm.

The lovely Stephen Hough is returning to Brisvegas in September for Musica Viva Australia - need to book a seat for that.