Despite choosing a quiet corner of London’s Southbank Centre, it is less than five minutes before we are interrupted by an operatic outburst. Strange noises begin to creep from the auditorium door behind us and David briefly disappears before enthusiastically beckoning me in. Vladimir Jurowski, bright young thing and Musical Director of Glyndebourne, is in full flow rehearsing Schnittke’s Faustus for its UK premiere the following day.

Not, perhaps, the sort of piece one would expect to see on stage at Glyndebourne, its well-appointed gardens a far cry from the leveling concrete of the Royal Festival Hall. Given that, for many, the Sussex opera house is as readily associated with images of toffs quaffing champagne as it is with its artistic output, I ask David how he views the festival. The gardens, the picnics and the champagne are important, he suggests and, for many, “half the pleasure of going there”. He recalls his first visit. “I remember it being a really wonderful thing to walk out of an opera and not see traffic but to see beautiful countryside.”

This is undeniably part of the Glyndebourne “experience,” though David complains that it frequently gets “lumped together with a whole load of other summer events”. What makes it “special,” he suggests, are the unique conditions under which operas are produced. The generous rehearsal periods and attention to detail allowed by working under festival conditions, lure audiences and artists alike and mean that the opera house is able to hold its own against much larger outfits.

Recent productions of Handel’s Giulio Cesare and Purcell’s The Fairy Queen are a case in point, the bijou auditorium and period orchestra allowing Glyndebourne to stage the sort of baroque pieces that would be lost in a space like Covent Garden. David is proud of this, pointing to the latter piece as an example of what the festival does best. An assembly of opera and theatre, the production featured actors and singers alongside dancers and “bonking rabbits”. As beautiful as it was eccentric, it proved to be last year’s hot ticket. He talks with excitement at the prospect of its revival in 2012: “It will be on at the same time as the Olympics and I can’t think of a better representation of loopy, Monty Pythonesque British culture.”

The festival commands an almost reverential following amongst many opera fans; Jeanette Winterson recently wrote: “If life is about heightened moments and living well when we can, then Glyndebourne is an essential part of life.” It is a sentiment that David agrees with and whilst he accepts that the festival is “quite a closed organisation” he is passionate about broadening access “geographically, socially and financially.”

“We’re very proud of what we do and we want as many people as possible to see it,” he remarks, pointing to the progress he has made in his eight years as General Deirector. Glyndebourne Education holds “literally hundreds of workshops” across the country as part of Glyndebourne Touring Opera. On the night we meet, “one hundred secondary school kids will all be going to see Così Fan Tutte for free in Norwich,” something he complains people don’t tend to write about.

This might well change, with the opera house about to be lavished the attention of a BBC Two documentary. Featuring choirmaster Gareth Malone (of The Choir), Gareth Goes to Glyndebourne will follow the progress of a piece commissioned by the opera house and composed by their first composer-in-residence, Julian Philips. Six professional singers will be joined by sixty young teenagers from the surrounding area to perform an operatic adaptation of Nicky Singer’s novel Knight Crew. It’s an “exciting” project, “drawing from all parts of our neighbourhood”, including, he is at pains to point out, areas of “considerable social deprivation,” representing “quite a mixed social crowd” for the opera house.

What of his own experiences? As a teenager, he remembers, “paying two pounds to sit on the floor of the stalls” at the Royal Opera House. “Packed in like sardines,” is how he saw his first Ring Cycle, “an incredibly uncomfortable experience” but one that first inspired his interest in opera. Glyndebourne’s Under-30s programme has been developed to replicate this, offering thirty-pound tickets in the stalls to anyone under the age of thirty, allowing them to sit in the best seats in the house for about a sixth of their regular price. “It’s a frustration for us that we can’t do more,” he adds, pointing to the festival’s reliance on private funding and lack of public subsidy as constraining factors. The cost every time this scheme is offered is in excess of £50,000, but David suggests that the expense is worth it. Altruism aside, he is well aware of the necessity of bringing in fresh audiences to sustain the organisation economically.

Glyndebourne is, David passionately believes, a “jewel in the crown”, a truly special place capable of competing with much larger opera houses. Beyond this, however, is a desire to remain current and relevant in today’s society. The irreverent bonking bunnies and the festival’s continued efforts to involve as many people as possible in opera, stand testament to this. Though understated, David’s enthusiasm for his job is infectious; as we finish our conversation and return to the bustle of the South Bank, I ask him what next. “I’m really very happy at Glyndebourne,” he replies, an answer which, though politic, seems entirely unembellished.

For Glyndebourne’s Under-30s programme, see  www.glyndebourne.com/tickets/under30/