It was the year 2000 and one of my New Year’s resolutions was to travel more. So I embarked on a small European tour, the kind of thing an ageing rock band would undertake after a lifetime on the road. A friend from work and I would fly into Switzerland and spend a week in the country before taking a pre-booked interrail pass through the Alps into Milan. The remaining three weeks would be spent touring Italy – taking in Venice and Florence before ending the trip in Rome and flying home via Ciampino airport. Unbeknownst to me at the time, I would fall out with the friend I was travelling with, leaving us separated in Florence. He took off with the money and passports, I spent an anxious night in a mountainside B&B, going over in my mind what I would do to him if he didn’t show up in Rome. Thankfully, he did.
David McVicar’s production of Medea is a totally absorbing take on Cherubini’s masterpiece.