Deaf Men Dancing & Comedian: Francesca Martinez

You know, I actually had something else booked for Monday night. Then the Man with the Hat, with unerring instinct, came along and scheduled something for exactly the same night. Huh. This is what I get for booking stuff in advance. Well, I have allowed myself the luxury of cancelling if something I fancy more comes up - and so it was that I came to his instead.

An early start meant I shocked everyone at work by working from home on a Monday, unusually. New venue, this - cue some anxious direction research. Google Maps suggested that, to get to the Royal College of Physicians, I catch a train to Waterloo, then the Bakerloo line to Regent's Park. The walk from there looked short, and quite easy - right from the station, next left, next right onto St. Andrew's Place. Streetview didn't extend into St. Andrew's Place itself, but I figured it couldn't be that hard to find.

One of those in-between days: showers, but really hot in between, so the coat you had to bring with you was a nuisance when the sun shone. It was rush hour when I got on the Tube - I was dripping sweat by the time I got off again, and made my way through brilliant sunshine and leafy streets, lined with elegant, white buildings. I wasn't the only one to walk the whole way around St. Andrew's Place before realising that the building I wanted was that one that didn't look like a toff's townhouse - the non-white one, on the left as you enter. Anyway, there was a helpful lady at the door to tell us that yes, this was the place, that registration was on the lower ground floor, and that the bar was upstairs. Where I could already see the Man with the Hat.

So I registered, and got my token for a (most welcome) free drink. Made my way upstairs, blithely speeding past the group - priorities, y'know. I was quite prepared to be sociable when I had a drink in hand! And some of us then made our way upstairs, to peer at the exhibition of medical curiosities, and then down to the lower ground again, where there were antique medical instruments, and a "throne", which we all tried out - I gave it 8/10 (not enough back support).

Back upstairs for the performance proper, in the library - unassigned seating. The books, interestingly, were all enclosed in a wire mesh - later, one of the organisers made a joke about the books having "locked-in syndrome". Which I think I was the only one to laugh at. Ah well. Comment cards had been left on our seats, as well as some information about Exceptional & Extraordinary, the performance programme - of which this show was a part - that's currently playing London, at the end of its UK tour. They use comedy, dance, and film to highlight our attitudes to disability, to difference.

On Monday, we got Deaf Men Dancing to start. Yes, the dancers are deaf - so is the choreographer. And over the course of their hour-long performance, they depicted the issues that face deaf people - how oralism was preferred to sign language, the reality of hearing tests: the weird little boxes they gave out in church to people who couldn't hear what was going on (not sure they achieved much).

After a brief interval, Francesca Martinez came on with her funny, sassy, Wobbly Manifesto. She has cerebral palsy, you see - or, as she prefers to describe it, she's wobbly. We were overloaded with interpretations during this bit - surtitling on the screen behind her, typed in real time (and it was interesting to see how they struggled to keep up, and how they left bits out. Like the rude bits. Sometimes.) Also a sign language interpreter to the side. A master of stagecraft, she brought on a guy to act as the man who coined the term "cerebral palsy". Oh, and he later represented - of all things - a wooden leg.. Inventive, this show.

Meantime, we were busily trying to figure out the comment cards, which asked "how we deal with difference". Huh? Who's "we"? I used to be involved in survey design, y'know. Ambiguous questions don't do anyone any good. Anyhoo, we figured out "we" meant society in general, and answered accordingly. I was decently quick at that, but then I do a lot of surveys..

An intriguing Q+A afterwards, with Francesca, the chorographer of Deaf Men Dancing, and one of the organisers. If I'd thought we were overloaded with translations before..! Now we had the surtitles, struggling to keep up with all speakers, and no fewer than two sign language interpreters: one for the audience, one for the speakers, two of whom were deaf. Interesting to watch the different signing.. and always enlightening to hear a perspective over and above what we've just seen on stage.

Afterwards, we assembled in a clump around the Man with the Hat to find out where our pub was. In fact, he'd missed the Q+A to research it for us. Aww.. And after telling us to walk straight on - and us looking at him in a suspicious manner - he accompanied us, then ran back for stragglers, then accompanied us again, and so it was that we finally came to the Queen's Head & Artichoke. Ahem. This is what it says on the website: "The origin of its name is attributed to Daniel Clark, Master Cook & Head Gardener to both Elizabeth 1st & James 1st." Eh, so I suppose that's the Queen in question - and since the following is also quoted on the website, perhaps that's a vague reference to artichokes..? "I know I have the body but of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too." Jeez, profound.

Inside was blissfully quiet, as pubs go, and we inhabited a corner with a long table, under strings of - cloves of garlic. Curiouser and curiouser. A large white wine wasn't the most expensive I've come across, but close. Anyway, the chat was good, till we eventually left - the last few of us heading home from Great Portland Street, just up the road. A couple of us Tubed to Baker Street, walking up and down stairs and along platforms to get back to the Bakerloo line and a direct route to Waterloo. Which is ironic, since - looking at the map afterwards - I see that we could have walked from Great Portland Street to Regent's Park a lot faster, and gotten the Bakerloo line straight from there. O well.

Our journey was also somewhat lengthened when we came to an abrupt stop just as we were pulling out of Piccadilly Circus. Happily, just where we were sat gave us a perfect view of the platform cctvs - not that we could see much, apart from hordes of irate passengers arriving on the platform, wondering why they couldn't get on this pretty empty train. Cue grumbling passengers moving down to our carriage, in case they needed to get off (the front of the train being in the tunnel). We never did find out quite what it was - something on the track, perhaps, or some overenthusiastic safety measure. Anyhoo, I did eventually make it home. Past my bedtime - but what's new?

Guess what I did last night? Stayed in, and did get the blog done this time! So this is a record of my most recent outing (not counting Asda).. and with this, I am officially UP TO DATE!! Drum roll please.

..for the moment.. the Man with the Hat organised something else for tonight - King's Place, this time, and a concert involving Mozart, Janácek and Korean Zithers. Terrific - also clashes with something else I'd booked, but hey. He does seem to be getting good at that..