Yes indeedy, another night with the Man with the Hat. London for Less than a Tenner was off to see some comedy in Islington - a ways to travel, considering I was in Guildford today, but a late enough start that I thought it was ok. I'd never drive up there, so I researched my options - the quick, and the cheap. Outbound was to be quick - train, then Victoria Line. Google suggested getting off at Highbury & Islington and walking, but I preferred the idea of changing to the Northern Line at King's Cross, and walking from Angel - what time I'd save in walking at street level, I'd probably use in changing lines, but it'd be less vexing; I know the walk from Highbury & Islington is a long one, I've walked to the Almeida from there, which takes longer than I fancied!
I made it home in decent time, got a train almost straight away, got the Tube, spent forever changing lines, and disembarked at Angel at about 7:40 or so. Turn right from the station, take the right fork at the green, and the Old Queen's Head comes up eventually on your right. Entering, I didn't see the Man, or the Green Hat he'd be wearing - I knew the gig was upstairs, and also knowing the general unreliability of upstairs bars, bought my drink downstairs. Made my way gingerly upstairs, wine in hand - I'm great at spilling it - gave my name at the door, got my hand stamped, and was in.
This was the first chance I'd had to look around, and the upstairs room was - scruffy. In an intimate sort of way. The window shutters were closed, and the wall beside the windows was lined with booths - they were full now, and I took a stool nearby, until one of the group suggested I join him nearer the back of the room, on an actual chair, with a back. So I did that. Lines of stools populated the whole floor area, and duly filled, pretty much completely. It's a real shame I don't yet have possession of my new phone, and the old one is pretty useless now, so I couldn't take a photo of the pair of portraits, either side of an old-looking, ornate mirror behind the stage. A man and woman, in Victorian dress, stared sombrely down upon us from black backgrounds - most cheery.
Well, the staff were certainly cheery! The mc entertained us for a while before our first of two acts came on. Sam Fletcher is an unassuming-looking fellow, who does a neat line in eccentricity. Kind of a Jack of all trades, he tried some jokes, he tried some gameshow-type stuff, he tried some magic. And he does have the most marvellous rapport with the audience - hecklers, hell, he loves the contact! He quite simply brought a shopping-bag's worth of props with him, and nobody knew what to expect next. Definitely the first time I've seen a comedian wrap themselves in tinfoil..
Unusually, the upstairs bar was staffed, and I got my second drink of the night there, at the interval. Meantime, Lucy Porter wandered by.. our second performer of the night, when she took the stage, she told us all about herself. A greater contrast to the first act you could not find - she spent most of her time sedately chatting to us: about her family, about growing older. Lower on the laugh counter, but she was witty, and got a good reception.
We returned downstairs after the show, finding a table to crowd around, and stayed for a while longer - but it was a bit noisy, and few of us felt like making a night of it. I did have time to have a good look around the room though - and this was where I really felt the lack of a camera. A terrifically ornate wooden ceiling was only the start of it - there were antler chandeliers, human heads mounted along with the stag's head on the wall, jars behind the bar containing a skull and a baby. The table I kept bumping my knees off also seemed to be ornately carved, as was the bar. Some care has gone into the décor here, and I'd love a better look.
The return journey was to be the cheap trip.. the 341 to Somerset House, then the 87 home. Well, it was a chilly wait for the 341 - but it came roughly when it was supposed to, and sped me to Somerset House. Where I saw I was now too late for the 87, but it's a 24 hour service, and the N87 (the night bus) was due at 12:25. So I waited.. and at 12:20 it occurred to me that, of the 10 buses scheduled to arrive within the next 15 minutes, none were mine. Which wasn't the way it was supposed to be.. instead, I caught the next bus to Waterloo (should've stayed on the 341, it was going there) and the next train from there - which was to depart in about 15 minutes, and stopped at Clapham Junction. And at least I'd reached maximum fare for the day, so that last train journey was free..
Back to Ireland tomorrow for the weekend, and back to the Man with the Hat again on Monday, when we're off to an award-winning play called Fury, in Soho Theatre. I've got to go to Guildford again that day, but have agreed to leave for Guildford at 7:30am, to get to the office early, so we can leave early; the play starts at 7pm, and that theatre isn't the quickest to get to. Hey-ho, wouldn't miss it..
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