This all started in October 2007 at the Kronberg Cello Festival. Onkel Heinz was to have gone with me. Alas, other more pressing business kept him at home, and on the first evening, overflowing with impressions and comments, I sent him a long e-mail. I missed having someone to share my wonder and delight and occasional bitchiness with, so daily installments followed and these collected e-mails formed the Kronberg Gazette. I had so much fun writing them that I began to write “reviews” of most of the concerts I attended.
This site owes its existence and original design to my dear friends Maria Beatriz Martins Costa and Rosina Cordeiro Guerra, who read my very first reviews and thought other people might like to do the same. The inspiration came, and still keeps coming, from Onkel Heinz (aka Henry Raymont) who has been my musical mentor for the past 50 plus years. The final design and layout is the work of my brilliant computer guru, Carolina Frederico, an encounter I owe to Linda Levy. My husband Oboe d’Amore gives me affectionate support and shows infinite patience with my late night banging on the computer keys and daily sawing away at my cello. And, of course, I must thank all my teachers , who have selflessly shared their musical knowledge and wisdom: Oliver Edel, Antonio Guerra Vicente, Ignacio Mariscal, Asier Polo, Juarez Johnson, Norma Lilian Ramos de Freitas, Laia Puig and Wanda Glowacka. The Camerata de San Angel in Mexico, Eduardo Gutiérrez Rivas, Marga and Albina Rodrigo and all my friends of Musica entre Amigos in Madrid, Britta Söhlke ,Marianne Bürki and Franz Abplanalp in Bern, Klaus Heiliger, Irmgard Adam, Brigitte Raff and Peter Eigen in Berlin have made playing chamber music a greater joy than I could ever have imagined. José Jiménez Avello keeps me sane and happy. Mozart and Eliane have opened up this beautiful world for me. I thank them all from the bottom of my heart. And, last but not least, many, many thanks and apologies to all the magnificent musicians who make my life so much richer and of whom I dare speak, not always kindly.