How exciting! I confess to not being particularly knowledgeable about architecture, though I suppose one does not need to be knowledgeable about the various styles and historical contexts to be deeply impressed — which side of the spectrum do you fall towards, the innocently impressed or the knowledgeably impressed? If the latter, perhaps you can tell me something about what made the philharmonic so impressive, and I can astonish my conversation partners at the next dinner party with how worldly and clever I am. (I expect, anyway, that they would find me worldly and clever; the former because I might say something about German architecture particularly and they would suppose me well-traveled; the latter because I do not expect many people in typical society are deeply passionate about architecture and so whatever tidbits I can convey will make me seem especially astute).

The floating audience was, as it turned out, not as interesting as one might think; it was only barges with chairs set upon them. Though one did crash and dump its participants during intermission, which was quite a spectacle (I was not on the crashed barge, as you have probably already deduced). No one was very seriously hurt, though I believe a fair number of ladies had to retire early from the evening when their gowns were ruined. But really it could have been much worse; there are merfolk in that lake and I suppose they could have taken it quite poorly when a barge's worth of wet socialites were dumped on their heads.

I have seen one Gilbert & Sullivan play, but not the Gondoliers — the one with the pirates, and the general who sings very quickly. I would consider myself a fan of the opera, but in truth I enjoy most varieties of art performances — ballet, opera, conciertos, musicales, all of that — provided the performers are professionals. I find them much preferable to balls, generally... primarily I believe this is because I attend such a great many balls that it's difficult to feel any of them are properly novel or interesting by the midway mark of July each year. Meanwhile there are usually only two or three operas a year — far less competition to be memorable. When I am no longer a debutante and can pick and choose which balls I attend I expect I shall have a better opinion of them, because I shall only choose the interesting ones — but for the time being I am positively drowned in dance cards, as my mother says it is important to be seen. (Perhaps that ought to be capital S, Seen — she says it like a capitalized word, if you know what I mean? But I do not want to confuse it with the Sight; I am fairly confident I have never been Seen in that manner before and given how dreary many prophecies tend to be I am quite content to go on not being Seen).

You shall have to tell me about the Gondoliers! I am thinking now about the Pirates and remembering some of the witty scenes and songs has me quite curious about the plot of this one — though one would think Pirates can get up to quite a bit more in terms of misadventures than Gondoliers could? The high seas being generally more fraught with adventure than a Venetian canal.

---