MALINES TOWER

Waikato Times, Volume 107, Issue 17994, 12 April 1930, Page 15 (Supplement)

MALINES TOWER

WHERE MISS GLADYS WATKINS IS STUDYING.

SLICE OF THE OLD WORLD. “After the excitement of playing Wellington’s carillon in Hyde Park, London, here I am again, leading the simplest of lives," writes Miss Gladys Watkins, of Wellington, in a letter to a friend, writes the Dominion. Miss Watkins is continuing her studies in carllon playing. “In two months I have been twice to Brussels. The second occasion was to hear at the Conservatoire a concert version of ‘The Damnation of Faust,’ a very tine performance, with a magnificent Mephistofele, one Panycra, a Flemish singer. “I am working away steadily, and now' have quite a largo repertoire,” Miss Watkins continues. “I am to play here in the old Tower of Malinos during an international gathering of printers. The London delegates wrote to Mr Denvne asking him if he would arrange a concert, and he did me the honour of sending my name to them as the artist. Visit to Holland. “At the beginning of May I am going to Holland with two other pupils of

the Denyn School to play on a carillon of 35 bells. The name of the town sounds like Tilburg. As there is talk of a carillon at Antwerp during the exposition of this year 1 am hoping to play there too. The carillon is a fascinating instrument, capable of much expression in the hands ,of a capable player. I am going to sit lor my ‘diplome’ in August—greatly daring. If I have the luck to get through I shall write you. I enclose a good photo of the Tower —it is seldom called the cathedral—taken from The street without an end,’ so called because 'it used to be a canal which wandered all through Belgium. Now it is a street covered with cobblestones, which look very picturesque, but cry out for good, sensible flat heels and solid soles. It is just that kind one wears when playing in the Tower. “I am now quite used to the 400 •steps that lead to the ‘cabine’ (the room of the clavier), and I’ve lost that feeling of awe which .1 feit when first making the ascent. The building was begun in the eleventh century, and the walls against which one brushes when going up are shiny with the action of generations of hands feeling their way along. As there is nothing so crudely modern as electric light on the stairway one goes up in solid blackness, which almost seems to push one iiack. Oh, very eerie, indeed! There is electric light in the ‘cabine,’ and also in the ‘portage’ (where the clock is situated that governs the huge cylinder necessary for automatic play), aDd why tilcy could not have lighted the steps at the same time is one of those quaint inconsistencies of this charming place. Well, there is very little else to say. At present my life spells ‘W-O-R-K P ”