The worst part of this translocation south of the border, I was told, was not going to be the customs officials at the US border, or the 8-hour drive, or the few comforts of the U-Haul van, or the sheer amount of material that had to be moved. While difficult to bear, these hurdles were mere molehills, nay, anthills to the Kilimanjaro of the most feared aspect of our move.

How would our cats react?

A casual search on Google quickly confirms that moving with pets can be a painful experience. Our apartment-bound cats only enter the car to see the vet, which they invariably equate with scary veterinarians and sharp needles. They are away from their usual environments, deprived of familiar sights, sounds and smells and assaulted by bizarre and potentially frightening stimuli. The Significant Other, who had previously moved with these two cats, repeatedly detailed prior moves, their scatological results and resultant psychological scars.

Anticipating these horrors, we ventured forth to gather equipment and advice. Cat carriers were acquired — this was a more difficult task than originally anticipated. Dog carriers abound but precious few are marked for cats. We left them out and occasionally tempted the captives inside with treats. We went through a bag of treats before one of them (Dade) cottoned on and refused to enter the carriers altogether. (That or she was repulsed by an offering of turkey sausage; she has refined culinary tastes.)

We tried unsuccessfully to drug the wee (and not so wee) beasties, but they decided that they did not like fruit-flavoured baby gravol even when mixed liberally with yogourt, cat treats and butter.

Vaccinations were also in order, although I don’t understand why indoors cats need rabies vaccine. True, occasionally they try to escape. The various governmental websites sent mixed messages; anecdotal evidence was also contradictory. So they had a visit from the vet and received their shots and certificates.

Finally the day of the move arrived. We loaded the truck, finished cleaning the apartment and turned out the lights. Because of his greater experience, the SO was left with the task of corralling and transporting the cats. All I had to do was sit in the cab of the truck, which had been previously lined with a comforter familiar to them, and stop them from escaping. Easy, right?

It turned out reasonably well. Mishka came first and immediately leaped into my bare arms and let loose a barrage of sounds, best described as a cross between a yowl and a hiss. He panted, arched his back, bared his canines, hissed at the windows (perhaps he could see his reflection in the glass). When she arrived, Dade joined in, and they both kept it up for half an hour before the sounds diminished and finally stopped. Somewhat to our surprise, they decided to settle in and fell asleep, and at one point relaxed enough to munch on some cat treats.

Again, somewhat to my surprise, they settled in reasonably well in the new apartment. They have managed to take over the sole bedroom and Mishka has struck up an ongoing relationship with several birds, who taunt him on a daily basis. They are indifferent to the fact that they are now denizens of one of the world’s great cities. Oh well.

It is with great regret that we must announce to our faithful readership (sorry, Mom) that stewardship of this website has been transferred to an American corporate entity, which by terms of our contract must remain unnamed. This occurred in spite of fierce competition from foreign international groups seeking to diversify from their main interests (primarily pharmaceuticals and adult entertainment).

At this point, our new patrons have not fully clarified how this will impact upon the subject material, quantity and quality of this authoritative classical music review website. We hasten to assure you that, fortunately, no staff have been requested to oboe out of service, and the caretakers have not been asked to return either major or minor keys to our new ownership. While we anticipate that the tone of this blog may shift incidentally, rest assured that the theme of music will remain in full measure. Our reportage may be more varied than in the past. Our present dissonance with our new commission should dimuendo rather than crescendo, although a few accidentals and sharp words will pass, and a few f-durs will fall flat.

Until then, we kindly ask you, gentle reader, to bear with us. Your regular programme will return in a brief minuet.

For the past year, we’ve been using in-ear headphones to listen to the music we’ve reviewed on this site. Now the time has come to review the headphones themselves.

Why in-ear headphones? Two reasons come to mind. Portability: these models tend to be much less bulky than their over-the-ear counterparts. Style: some of us simply prefer not to have bulbous, Princess Leia-style headbumps. Add it the fact that many of these in-ear headphones have passive noise-cancelling abilities, making them suitable for blocking out coworkers who eat, breathe and talk at 120 decibels.

And we’re not talking about the standard white hard earbuds that come with iPods and iPhones, which, if you’re lucky, will sit in your ears. For me, the standard earbuds tend to fall out, and the noise isn’t isolated from the sounds of the world outside. That means pumping up the volume, damaging your ears and annoying everyone else around you. Plus they scream ’steal my iPod!’ or whatever storage device you do use.

The models that we had chosen were the Shure SE530 Sound Isolating Earphones and the Westone 3 True Three Way Earphones. Both offer three drivers in each earbud (two for bass, one for the higher registers) and external noise-reduction capabilities. Both will set you back somewhere between $400 and $500. They each come with a range of flanges so that the buds sit comfortably inside the external ear canal, forming a seal, essential for blocking out distracting noises and concentrating the sound waves of your choice inside your ears. (When properly fitted, the flanges don’t fall off inside the ear; they adhere to the earbuds and never once have they been left inside my ear canals.)

Both sets of headphones require a certain amount of time to warm up (usually 10 hours or so). The sounds they convey are crisp and clear, and one no longer heads to fiddle with the equalizer to make anything sound better. Not only is the music easier to appreciate, but the other sounds of performance are there to enrich your experience: the acoustics of the recording studio; the breathing of the performers; clicking and squeaking chairs; the tap of a foot upon the pedals. In spite of the layers of recording and decoding equipment that comprise digital music, these earphones highlight music as a human endeavour: music requires the performer and the listener to fulfill its purpose.

Yet, alas, even the most perfect earphones cannot be perfect all the time. The Westone 3s gave up first: the casing for an earbud fell apart. These were under warranty, and were replaced after a couple of weeks. The replacements worked for a while before they, too, abandoned their task, with one side fading in and out of commission. The Shures held up for over a year of steady use before the right earbud inexplicably weakened and finally died. Fortunately, these pair too are under warranty (one of the benefits of an expensive product, I suppose) and will be sent out for repairs.

Even with these issues, I wouldn’t give up on earphones; their sound-isolating quality is a relief for the audiophile in this noise-polluted world. Over the ear headphones give a similar experience too, but require batteries; maybe we’ll give those a try at some point in the future.

Recently we picked up a copy of ‘Masters of the Oboe,’ a compilation set from Deutsche Grammophon (2006).

As the voracious readers of our well-thumbed blog know, the oboe has a unique sound, often likened to that of aquatic fowl. It is a matter of some contention between the august editors of this website as to whether it is closer to the duck or the goose; but we agree that, in competent hands, it is melodious fowl. It also is incredibly temperamental and fiendishly difficult to master. In large part this is due to the reed that generates the oboe’s characteristic sound: being a natural material, its character changes with environmental conditions, and ultimately each reed wears out.

This compilation set offers a wide selection from the oboeist’s repetitore, ranging from the Baroque to the modern. The many moods of the instrument are on display here, at times playful, others plaintive, always sonorous. The oboe shines the most in chamber music, when it is not overwhelmed by hordes of strings, which sound almost pedestrian in comparison. One gem among many in this collection is the finale from the Trio for 2 Oboes and cor anglais in C, Op. 87, a light-hearted conversation between woodwinds.

While stitched together from multiple recordings, the sound quality is even and uniformly high throughout. Quite frequently one can hear little clicking noises in the background, presumably from the keys of the oboe. Some might find this a little distracting, but one quickly becomes accustomed to it and it adds to the charm of the music.

Overall, it fulfills the purpose of a compilation album: to give an overview of the oboe’s repetoire and also to pique the listener’s interest in what is otherwise an obscure but charming instrument.