The audiences are far more willing to get involved."Ellen Kent, a leading producer of large-scale touring operas from eastern Europe, said: " Our biggest audiences are in Liverpool, Manchester, Sunderland, Edinburgh and Glasgow. We do phenomenal business at all of them."There seems to be great loyalty in the North, where there is a huge tradition of music - the big choirs, brass bands and the first performance of La Boh?."This weekend Ms Kent was staging a production of Bizet's Carmen at the Sunderland Empire, a venue her productions have been visiting for over a decade.In the audience on Friday night was Carol Atkinson, 45, from nearby Washington She said: "Carmen is a favourite of mine. Those in the North-west are now three times more likely to attend an opera than those in the South-east, according to the figures.Nearly one in 10 in the North-west named opera as their favourite form of theatrical production, and those in the North-east joined the chorus of approval. Only 3 per cent of those in the South-east spoke of opera as their favoured form of entertainment, despite having two professional houses on their doorstep, English National Opera at the Coliseum in London and the nearby Royal Opera House.The soprano Suzannah Clarke is one of a number of distinguished singers who hail from the North, among them the soprano Lesley Garrett and the bass John Tomlinson."There is a different culture in the north of England and a greater sense of community," said Miss Clarke "They are less suspicious and more open. The composer Giacomo Puccini attended the UK premiere of his new opera La Boh? more than a century ago in a place he called "the land of black smoke, darkness, cold, rain, cotton.. and fog".
It was staged, not at Covent Garden, scene of many prestigious first nights, but at the Theatre Royal in Manchester, a city with its own classical tradition and aficionados. Now a new study shows the north of England's love of the performing arts has surpassed that in the South. That helped give it a compliant if rather pendulous ride but its handling was greatly helped by the - again very modern - wheel-at-each-corner layout. This also meant that, though the 5 was properly small, it boasted an unusually spacious interior and roomy boot.Though the standard 5 did suffer some dubious styling "updates" during its 25-year production, the essential design remained the same, a testament to its striking modernity when launched in 1972.. The only thing is, until the new Twingo arrives in 2007-08, Renault has no car smaller than the Clio so, in the short term, it is filling the gap with...
the old Clio (insert clever French phrase which loosely translates as "Cuh! Would you believe it?" here).It's a classic: Renault 5I don't remember the Renault 5 being hailed a design classic at the time, and it seems to have been all but forgotten now, having been overshadowed by more obvious icons such as the VW Golf and Fiat Panda, but, looking at it now, its simple, clean exterior and funky interior are strikingly modern.Like all small French cars, the 5 had high, springy suspension, which was all the better for coping with rural roads. Cars are, generally, getting larger, and it is all getting rather out of hand, which is why manufacturers keep having to introduce teeny weeny new models such as the Peugeot 107, Toyota Aygo or VW Fox, to fill the gaps left at the bottom of their ranges. Madame Rat-Dog had probably seen the Clio badge, and assumed it was as petite as her own; Monsieur de Sinden meanwhile, saw a little person's city car that was essentially designed as a buoy for vehicles such as his, and used it accordingly.This is not a problem peculiar to the Clio, which, aside from its soggy steering and rather slothful acceleration, was a competent enough car (and much better built than the last one). As Le Figaro recently pointed out in an article about the new Clio - entitled "When the little ones grow up" - Renault has turned its chic little runaround into a real porker; it's over 20cm longer than the last version and a whopping 275kg heavier than the original Clio of 1990, not to mention over £800 more costly. "Please monsieur, I am very sorry, I did not see you, please I am very sorry," he said, with such a gracious smile that I backed off, and began to mutter apologies of my own.And so, in a matter of moments, I had experienced the two basic archetypes of Parisian social discourse: frosty disdain (the norm) and disarming charm (for use when cornered).