Then he looks at his watch, sees that it’s past 11pm, and that grinning time is over for the night The smile fades from his face “No,” he snaps “Closed Goodbye.”. I can hardly bear to do this but I’m going to write about screen violence and its consequences. “Some have said,” continues the mayor, ” `What have we got to smile about?’ And I reply `What haven’t we got to smile about?’ ” He glances around the square, and waits for applause, although none is forthcoming “So,” concludes the Mayor, “smile Smile for our future Smile for the tourists Smile.” He bows and walks off again. “Let’s get to the bar,” I suggest to Casha, and she shrugs and nods.Unfortunately, we arrive just as they are closing up “Is there not time for a quick drink?” I ask the barman “No,” he smiles. They are on a wage, so they don’t need to be nice to people.”When the mayor arrives, he grins at the small crowd and climbs on to a hastily erected podium. “The sun,” he begins in Polish (Casha is translating), “is learning to shine again over Krakw.”I look up at the sky, and dark clouds are forming. Regulations.” “Why,” I ask Casha, “is everyone so bloody miserable? Is it me?”"No,” she replies sullenly “People here don’t hate, they just haven’t learned to like Perhaps it’s because they don’t receive the tips.

“Regulations – canvas shoes not possible.”"No,” beams the maitre d’, “you cannot drink without a tie. “Are you deliberately not smiling as a political gesture?” I ask. “No,” she replies, “I’m just not smiling.”The mayor of Krakw is due to give a speech in 30 minutes in the town square, where free vodka is being served to celebrate the new initiative, so I wile away the time by smiling at people and being refused entry into discos and bars “No,” smiles the bouncer. ” `The smile on my face is only there just to fool the public.’ People don’t smile in Krakw. This is like starting National Sin Week in Germany, or National Black Hair Week in Denmark.”I laugh at Casha’s joke, but she doesn’t smile back. And tonight, the great and good of Krakw have hit the streets, and are grinning inanely – for freedom, for the Yankee dollar.Everywhere are brightly coloured posters reminding the citizens that a happy face is the new law in town, and everybody is making a special effort.”They may be smiling,” I suggest to Casha, my translator, “but they still don’t seem very happy.”"What is that song?” replies Casha.

When 200 Western tourists were recently polled as to what’s wrong with Krakw, the same response was noted time and time again Nobody smiles. It was as if the people of this magnificent and ancient city had failed to realise that it was okay to wipe from their faces those regulation sullen expressions that were mandatory under the Communist regime. “The canopy is not my responsibility.” She flashes me a grin and adds: “Simply not possible.” “Please?” I smile “No,” she smiles back firmly. And then, smiling, she turns away and refuses to acknowledge my presence for the rest of the night.
Tonight is the grand gala launch of National Smile Week in Krakw. “I’d like a beer and can you send it outside to the canopy?”

“That,” she smiles, “is not possible.” “Why?” I smile “Not possible,” she smiles. “Hi”, I say to a beautiful young lady, a waif-like Polish model- type tending bar at the Hotel Pjarski in Krakw, Poland She grins back “Hi,” I say.

The stylistic flash-backs are interesting, but hardly compensate for a lack of true style – the sort that Sir Henry Wood himself provided in abundance. Let us not forget that the founder of the Proms conducted more modern music than most of his peers had even heard – quite a tribute, and far more worthy of imitation than the odd redundant slide.. Wordsworth conducted a creditable accompaniment, although some of the slides (specifically those from the middle strings) were overdone. Then came Thomas’s delightful Mignon overture, a one-time repertory mainstay, packed with good tunes and potentially felicitous solos but deadly dull under Wordsworth – except for the final statement of the Polonaise, which suddenly sprang to life.
Schubert’s Unfinished originally featured in a programme a week or so after Henry Wood’s first Prom, so its inclusion here was fairly authentic. Wordsworth offered a trim, nicely shaped reading, one that seemed more akin to the period-instrument school than to “Proms past” and that lacked the conspicuous horn vibrato we’d heard in Wagner and Thomas. Wordsworth ended the official programme with a routinely assertive Carmen suite, before bowing to audience pressure with Salut d’amour and Berlioz’s Hungarian March.Audience reaction was ecstatic, but I could hear nothing beyond a pleasantly homogeneous band and fairly routine conducting.