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The programme was supposed to be an evocation of the three emotions which make up flamenco - happiness, tragedy and passion. To my untrained flamenco eyes I saw little difference between the three apart from the change of the colour of the costumes - white for happiness, black for tragedy and yes, you have guessed it, red for passion. Each "movement" hinted at further dramas, memories and dreams - who was arriving with suitcases at the start, who occupied the empty chair in the tragedy movement and where was everyone going with the suitcases at the very end? (Probably on a cheap Easyjet Flight to Old Seville). And what did all that poetry mean?
 

It all sounds very tedious you might think, but that does not account for the soul and passion which runs through Hoyos' company, from the musicians right up to Hoyos herself, a beautiful vision of mahogany - that instictive quality which elegant women of a certain age evoke so naturally. She is a mesmerising dancer with arms, wrists and fingers which are so expressive and seem almost to beat out the rhythm of the music. She is brilliant in her inter-action with the audience, teasing us and ensnaring us into her brilliant web. In the male dancing I was struck by the brilliant high chested poses, I suppose you might call it the plastique, which seemed to be so evocative of Njinsky - just like the old photographs we see of him striking the pose in the staged photos of Spectre de la Rose itself a ballet evoking memories and dreams. Perhaps flamenco and Fokine have a great deal in common.

In short, great music, great old fashioned dancing and a great evening.