Well now, I love Fascinating Aida. I've seen them on telly before but never live - but I think their material is hilarious and so clever. And so I booked to see them tonight in the Queen Elizabeth Hall. And, despite this feckin' cold not having left me yet, darned if I was missing them.
The platform indicator at West Brompton was telling me this time that the next train was going my way.. and this time, it wasn't lying! I like this system - if the board says the train isn't going my way, it's lying; if it says it is, it's telling the truth! Mind you, I created some trouble for myself at Earl's Court. See, if you're at the very front of the train, as I was, you can see the indicator board on the platform. And when another train, headed the same way, pulled in at the adjacent platform, I scrutinised the board carefully, ready to jump if it said the other train was leaving first. It did, after a minute, and I ran across. Only to have the doors to the train I'd been on close, and that train left first after all! Drat..
And then our train was subject to several unexplained delays, and I began to worry I wouldn't make it. Mind you, the Southbank Centre, where the hall is located, is easy to get to from Embankment - cross the bridge, and you don't even have to climb all the way down on the other side, the concert halls are a level above street level and a side set of steps from the bridge takes you directly there.
With decreased lung capacity, however, the climb onto the bridge was a struggle. But I made it, and by the time I was halfway across the bridge my wheezing had calmed to a manageable level, and passers-by were no longer looking at me funny. I got to the first-level terrace with five minutes to spare. And then.. my way was blocked with construction barriers! They're doing something right in the middle and you can't cross the terrace. Luckily, the Royal Festival Hall is right beside you, and the lobby has a door on either side of the construction. So I went in.. across.. out.. right.. and in again, and I was there.
The girl who gave me my ticket had to be extracted from the conversation she was having with her pal, who waited at the side till my business was done. She waved vaguely to the right, behind her, and said something about going down the stairs. So I wandered off in that direction, where I came to an entrance - but the seat numbers listed above the door didn't include mine! I trotted off in search of another door, but couldn't find one, and the announcement came that the show was about to start. So I said I'd risk that door, and very sensibly, the usher just directed me to the other side of the auditorium. Where I discovered I was several rows up, near the back. Hey-ho, the seats are comfortable, and the view was fine.
Well, what a great evening! This trio of ladies are rambunctious, unapologetic, and took us through an eloquent evening of acerbic and insightful musings on life as we know it. There isn't a song of theirs that isn't a gem. The performances were first-class, and they finished the evening with the famous "Cheap Flights" - I'd forgotten that was theirs! Available to view on the title page of their website, above.
I am so getting a dvd. This show runs until Sunday in London, and they're touring the UK. See it if you can!
I think I'll give my cold a break and take tomorrow off. It was only a debate on climate change, and today they sent a message to attendees, asking us to let them know if we wanted to cancel, as there was a long waiting list. So I figured there'd be some more interested than I, and I cancelled. It was free anyhow.
Which gives me the chance to save my strength for Thursday, and the ballet of Don Quixote, at the Royal Opera House.
Friday: a play called 3 Winters, at the National.
Saturday: a concert by the Pink Singers - Europe's longest standing LGBT choir. In Cadogan Hall.
Sunday: the last night of Potted Sherlock - all the Sherlock Holmes stories condensed into 80 minutes. In the Vaudeville Theatre. This is the only one of all these shows I got a deal for - I knocked a few quid off with lovetheatre.com.
Monday: The RSC production of Henry IV Part I, in the Barbican.
Tuesday: the opera Orfeo, at the Roundhouse. With Helen.
And may they all be as good as the last two nights have been!
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