I've never seen Henry IV Part I before - or Part II, for that matter. Some of the advertising for this production has it as the greatest of Shakespeare's plays. Well, I do like a good Shakespeare - so I booked. One of the cheapest seats in the house - but a decent one, centre of the front row. Of the gallery, the very top level.
It's been a terrible evening, weatherwise - pouring rain - and if I hadn't booked I wouldn't have ventured out tonight. And it all the way across town as well, in the Barbican! Google Maps gave me two options, basically - District Line to Mansion House and walk, or in the other direction to Edgeware Road and take either the Circle or Hammersmith & City Line from there to Barbican Station. Well, with the weather, I fancied a shorter walk - so the latter was the option I chose.
I really thought I was going to be late. Infuriating delays on the District Line were followed by several lengthy pauses as we made our way on the Circle Line. The driver apologised several times, saying they were trying to match up with the timetable. Or something.. Anyway, we pulled into Barbican Station 10 mins before the performance was due to start. Now, this is the closest station to the Barbican - but it's not quite across the road. Still, all you have to do is cross the road and walk down the covered street ahead - a relief, given that it was still raining. Then cross that street and it's around the corner on your right.
I set a blistering pace, and halved Google's estimate of the walking time. So I arrived with a whole 5 minutes to spare. And o, was I glad I had a Print at Home ticket - and may they issue many more of them! This is a horrendously complicated building, but it turned out that the entrance I needed was the very first one inside the building proper! What a joy not to have to climb down two flights of stairs to the box office, then up again to get back there. Instead, I just showed my printed ticket to the usher, who directed me up a couple of flights of stairs, and to the other usher at the top of them, who directed me to the door. And then I had to squeeze past half of a very long row - there are no aisles in the middle - to get to my seat. And it is a bit of a squeeze!
I keep forgetting the rail that blocks your vision in this row. It's not too bad - you get used to it - but really, they should mark it as a "restricted view" row. And with the dim lighting, it was impossible to see seat numbers - I kept having to ask people. It was a relief to sit down, finally. Seats are comfy, at least, and the legroom is ok - principally because there's enough room to either side to turn your legs slightly.
You can always expect excellence from the RSC, and they didn't disappoint. Right from the start, the staging is magnificent - lighting on the floor reminiscent of the stained glass rose window of a cathedral, and a giant crucifix hanging at the back. Simple and striking. Candles are lowered in glass beakers, and monks appear, also bearing candles, and standing in a circle around the lighted floor. Finally, we see a hooded man, prostrate in the midst of the "reflections" on the floor. This is the king, and this is how we find out he's a religious man.
What unfolds over the next three hours or so (including interval) is worthy of any tale of fantasy. They do say that Game of Thrones is based on mediaeval history - well, they'd lap this up. The king's son and heir, Prince Hal, spends his time drinking, carousing, womanising. The king despairs of him - particularly with his enemies massing against him, including a young man, a ferocious warrior that the king wishes were his - another Henry: "Hotspur", for his hot temper. (Actually, in real life, he was slightly older than the king. But why let the truth get in the way of a good story?)
So, Hotspur allies with his brother-in-law, Mortimer, who's just shown where his allegiance lies by marrying the daughter of the Welsh rebel, Owen Glendower. Mortimer was never really a fan of the king's anyway, as the previous king, Richard, had apparently named him heir, and not the man who now holds the title. (Actually, in real life, his nephew was the heir. But anyway.) Now, as the rebels gain power, the king summons his errant son. Will he step up to defend his birthright?
It's a classic tale, beautifully told, with musical accompaniment of the period. Particularly moving is the scene, apparently in Glendower's court, where the rebels debate their plans. You can tell it's the Welsh court, because a Welsh harp stands beside a chair. And sure enough, before they're done, a lady picks up that harp and strums an air, as Glendower's daughter sings in Welsh. The lighting is low, the room illuminated by open flames, and the effect is spine-tingling - with a crude map of England and Wales on the floor, you feel the reality of this, the last real fight for the independence of Wales.
The most popular character has to be Hal's drinking buddy, the irrepressible Falstaff, brilliantly portrayed. Yes, this is a must-see production if you're into Shakespeare. Both plays run until the 24th, with matinees and evening performances for Part I on different days (except Sunday & Tuesday), and Part II showing in the evenings only, on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. But next Saturday and the following Thursday are sold out. Highly recommended, booking advisable.
On my way back, the rain was even heavier, but at least the Tube was behaving itself. On the District Line, I shared my carriage with a sizeable group of American college students, who had been to the play on what looked like a field trip, and were accompanied by their professor - the only one who seemed to have bought a programme. They all got off at my station - I guess they're staying in a nearby hotel, there are a few - and duly blocked one of the two exit gates when someone got her bag caught in it. To be fair, you have to be quick!
Well, bedtime for me - Helen and I are off to Orfeo at the Roundhouse tomorrow. It's the opening night, and the Royal Opera House, who are collaborating in this production, are sold out - although last I looked, limited tickets were available on the Roundhouse website. Anyhoo, the restaurant at the venue is booked out, so we reserved a table at Nando's, down the road, for before the show.
Wednesday: a gig at the Lexington, near King's Cross. They're running a week-long event - The Line of Best Fit - to showcase up-and-coming acts. Particularly interested in Jagaara.
Thursday: The Magic Hour. A Victorian-style magic show, with spirit messages and everything. I like the look of the venue too - the Grand Royale, a glorious old Victorian hotel near Hyde Park.
After I get back from Ireland, on Monday, I've booked to go to a play in the only theatre within walking distance of me - the Finborough. The play is called Pig Girl, and the theatre is so small that it's always advisable to book.
Monday, 12 January 2015
Sunday, 11 January 2015
Play: Potted Sherlock
I had it in mind to see Potted Sherlock, and found quite a few deals, when I shopped around, that bettered the official price. Slightly. Slightly undercutting all the other slightly advantageous deals was the one from LoveTheatre, so I took that one. So I saved, ooh, just over £3 that way. I was at the end of the row, near the back of the stalls - but never mind, the Vaudeville Theatre turns out to be one of the few that gives a photo of the view from every seat, so I was reassured that I'd probably be able to see the stage.
Having eaten everything in the fridge that could reasonably constitute dinner, I had the perfect excuse to eat out - and when I looked up the location of the theatre (I'm not sure whether I've been here before, but if so, it was a long time ago), I noticed it was near Covent Garden and all the excellent eateries there. Ooh goodee, I could go to Cote! That was a plan then.
Again, I was ready too early, and had to make myself wait, so as not to leave too early. At the same time, I had to leave myself time to eat. I figured I'd take the Piccadilly Line to Covent Garden for the restaurant, then walk to the theatre - five minutes, I looked it up on Google Maps - and after the show, take the District Line back from Embankment.
The platform indicators at both West Brompton and Earl's Court now seem to only recognise two destinations for eastbound trains coming from Wimbledon - Edgeware Road, or Earl's Court! So in effect, you're going all the way to Edgeware Road, or you're not. Of course, the train I was on was continuing past Earl's Court and into town.. but as I say, I was changing to the Piccadilly Line anyway.
I see the lights are still up in Covent Garden, despite all the cranes making an effort to take them down when I was there last. Not lit, though. I'd looked up my route to the restaurant, and it took me no time to get there. I knew the only thing that could scupper my plan would be a packed restaurant, but when I got there, it was practically empty! Lovely. I was quickly shown to a table near the bar.
I soon realised I'd better time this, out of curiosity. I hadn't sat down yet when I was asked when I wanted to drink - so I put in my wine order. I pretty much already knew what I wanted - their pre-theatre menu does me absolutely fine, and never changes. And there was a waiter with his eye on me the whole time.. whenever I looked relaxed, having been perusing the menu beforehand, he dashed over, notebook in hand. I arrived at 5.45. By 6, I'd eaten my starter - a peppery mushroom soup that warmed me after the slightly chilly walk there - and been served my steak, with garlic butter and frites. When I'd finished it, I asked for the dessert menu - just to check the exact name, I already knew what I wanted. I had my dessert - a very rich chocolate pot topped with crème fraiche - eaten, the bill paid and was buttoning my coat by 6.40.
Which is great if you're in a hurry. Unfortunately, the show didn't start until 7.30! I deliberately got lost on my walk to the theatre, thus adding a couple of minutes to my trek. Which wasn't terribly pleasant, as it was raining lightly. After mooching up and down the broad and, frankly, uninteresting expanse of the Strand for a couple of minutes, I said sod it. I'd already passed my theatre, where crowds were still pouring out of a production of Wind in the Willows, but with nothing else to do I returned and stood in the lobby for an age as they streamed past me.
I didn't even have to pick up my ticket - I'd selected Print at Home. Finally, I decided enough was enough, and made my way upstairs to the bar, where I got myself a large glass of wine and was unable to find a seat, but did bag myself the piano to lean against. Now, it's not so often these days that I have a large glass, and I must say I've become something of a lightweight. By the time I got to the end of it, I was beginning to have imaginary conversations with my mother's dog, Fluffy, which were, worryingly, accompanied by facial expressions. I figured I'd better make my way back downstairs soon. While I still could.
I made it down safely, and had no trouble finding my seat - what with the view on the website and all. Lovely plush red velvet seats, too. Only thing was, being on the end, I kept having to get up to let people past. Six times, I had to do that before the show even started.. then a very tall guy came and sat in front of me and I thought, "O no.." until, immediately afterwards, he turned to me and said I must tell him if I couldn't see, and that he'd try to lean to the side for my benefit. And he did, the whole first half! Didn't really need to though - he seemed to forget for the second half, and I had no line-of-sight problems.
Yes, even for a show only lasting 80 minutes, they had an interval. And in those 80 minutes, they attempted to summarise the whole 60 Sherlock Holmes stories. Mainly by means of someone coming in and stating a case or a mystery, and Holmes immediately telling them whodunit. It's a very, very silly show, and at the beginning I despaired of it - and it would have been so easy to leave, being on the end of the row. But when it crossed a line of silliness - specifically, when they attempted all the short stories in a rapid-fire section - I started to enjoy it. I hummed and hawed at the interval, and ultimately decided to stay.
I liked the painting with the swivelling eyes, and I liked the hat-swapping bit, where they changed characters along with hats. But ultimately this is a very silly show, and I found the slapstick much too drawn-out. I give it 6/10 for effort. Anyhoo, that was the last performance.
Tomorrow: I'm dragging myself across town for the RSC production of Henry IV Part I, in the Barbican.
Tuesday: the opera Orfeo, at the Roundhouse. With Helen.
Wednesday: a gig at the Lexington, near King's Cross. They're running a week-long event - The Line of Best Fit - to showcase up-and-coming acts. Particularly interested in Jagaara.
Thursday: The Magic Hour. A Victorian-style magic show, with spirit messages and everything. I like the look of the venue too - the Grand Royale, a glorious old Victorian hotel near Hyde Park.
After I get back from Ireland, on Monday week, I've booked to go to a play in the only theatre within walking distance of me - the Finborough. The play is called Pig Girl, and the theatre is so small that it's always advisable to book.
Having eaten everything in the fridge that could reasonably constitute dinner, I had the perfect excuse to eat out - and when I looked up the location of the theatre (I'm not sure whether I've been here before, but if so, it was a long time ago), I noticed it was near Covent Garden and all the excellent eateries there. Ooh goodee, I could go to Cote! That was a plan then.
Again, I was ready too early, and had to make myself wait, so as not to leave too early. At the same time, I had to leave myself time to eat. I figured I'd take the Piccadilly Line to Covent Garden for the restaurant, then walk to the theatre - five minutes, I looked it up on Google Maps - and after the show, take the District Line back from Embankment.
The platform indicators at both West Brompton and Earl's Court now seem to only recognise two destinations for eastbound trains coming from Wimbledon - Edgeware Road, or Earl's Court! So in effect, you're going all the way to Edgeware Road, or you're not. Of course, the train I was on was continuing past Earl's Court and into town.. but as I say, I was changing to the Piccadilly Line anyway.
I see the lights are still up in Covent Garden, despite all the cranes making an effort to take them down when I was there last. Not lit, though. I'd looked up my route to the restaurant, and it took me no time to get there. I knew the only thing that could scupper my plan would be a packed restaurant, but when I got there, it was practically empty! Lovely. I was quickly shown to a table near the bar.
I soon realised I'd better time this, out of curiosity. I hadn't sat down yet when I was asked when I wanted to drink - so I put in my wine order. I pretty much already knew what I wanted - their pre-theatre menu does me absolutely fine, and never changes. And there was a waiter with his eye on me the whole time.. whenever I looked relaxed, having been perusing the menu beforehand, he dashed over, notebook in hand. I arrived at 5.45. By 6, I'd eaten my starter - a peppery mushroom soup that warmed me after the slightly chilly walk there - and been served my steak, with garlic butter and frites. When I'd finished it, I asked for the dessert menu - just to check the exact name, I already knew what I wanted. I had my dessert - a very rich chocolate pot topped with crème fraiche - eaten, the bill paid and was buttoning my coat by 6.40.
Which is great if you're in a hurry. Unfortunately, the show didn't start until 7.30! I deliberately got lost on my walk to the theatre, thus adding a couple of minutes to my trek. Which wasn't terribly pleasant, as it was raining lightly. After mooching up and down the broad and, frankly, uninteresting expanse of the Strand for a couple of minutes, I said sod it. I'd already passed my theatre, where crowds were still pouring out of a production of Wind in the Willows, but with nothing else to do I returned and stood in the lobby for an age as they streamed past me.
I didn't even have to pick up my ticket - I'd selected Print at Home. Finally, I decided enough was enough, and made my way upstairs to the bar, where I got myself a large glass of wine and was unable to find a seat, but did bag myself the piano to lean against. Now, it's not so often these days that I have a large glass, and I must say I've become something of a lightweight. By the time I got to the end of it, I was beginning to have imaginary conversations with my mother's dog, Fluffy, which were, worryingly, accompanied by facial expressions. I figured I'd better make my way back downstairs soon. While I still could.
I made it down safely, and had no trouble finding my seat - what with the view on the website and all. Lovely plush red velvet seats, too. Only thing was, being on the end, I kept having to get up to let people past. Six times, I had to do that before the show even started.. then a very tall guy came and sat in front of me and I thought, "O no.." until, immediately afterwards, he turned to me and said I must tell him if I couldn't see, and that he'd try to lean to the side for my benefit. And he did, the whole first half! Didn't really need to though - he seemed to forget for the second half, and I had no line-of-sight problems.
Yes, even for a show only lasting 80 minutes, they had an interval. And in those 80 minutes, they attempted to summarise the whole 60 Sherlock Holmes stories. Mainly by means of someone coming in and stating a case or a mystery, and Holmes immediately telling them whodunit. It's a very, very silly show, and at the beginning I despaired of it - and it would have been so easy to leave, being on the end of the row. But when it crossed a line of silliness - specifically, when they attempted all the short stories in a rapid-fire section - I started to enjoy it. I hummed and hawed at the interval, and ultimately decided to stay.
I liked the painting with the swivelling eyes, and I liked the hat-swapping bit, where they changed characters along with hats. But ultimately this is a very silly show, and I found the slapstick much too drawn-out. I give it 6/10 for effort. Anyhoo, that was the last performance.
Tomorrow: I'm dragging myself across town for the RSC production of Henry IV Part I, in the Barbican.
Tuesday: the opera Orfeo, at the Roundhouse. With Helen.
Wednesday: a gig at the Lexington, near King's Cross. They're running a week-long event - The Line of Best Fit - to showcase up-and-coming acts. Particularly interested in Jagaara.
Thursday: The Magic Hour. A Victorian-style magic show, with spirit messages and everything. I like the look of the venue too - the Grand Royale, a glorious old Victorian hotel near Hyde Park.
After I get back from Ireland, on Monday week, I've booked to go to a play in the only theatre within walking distance of me - the Finborough. The play is called Pig Girl, and the theatre is so small that it's always advisable to book.
Saturday, 10 January 2015
Concert: The Pink Singers
Honestly, I wanted to go to La Soirée tonight - but the only seats they had left for the early performance when I looked were the posh ones, and I didn't want to wait for the 10pm show. So I booked to see The Pink Singers - Europe's longest-standing LGBT choir, apparently - in Cadogan Hall, instead.
The show started at 7, which on a weekday would leave me in a tizzy, trying to get everything done in time, but of course at the weekend I'm ready hours before! So, I set off in good time. The platform indicators at both West Brompton and Earl's Court were under the illusion that my train was terminating at Earl's Court, but luckily the train - and, presumably, its driver - knew better, and it took me all the way to Sloane Square. And Cadogan Hall is just up the road, to the right as you exit.
My seat was quite near the stage - just to the side, but with this stage configuration that was ok. I was at a show here before where the stage was extended into the front rows, so I ended up having to look sideways, which wasn't ideal. I was one of the first in, but the hall soon filled - by the end, there were a few free seats, but not many. Eavesdropping on the conversation beside me, I discovered that the lady in the seat next to mine had been to several of these concerts.. but still didn't know what LGBT stands for!
Well, the concert wasn't the most professional I've seen - but it was the most fantastic fun! The theme was "legends", which encompassed both pop and classical. So, we got a bit of Michael Jackson, Tina Turner, Madonna, Joni Mitchell, Queen (natch), Édith Piaf, Mozart, and Monteverdi, among others. I hadn't bought a programme, as usual, and was delighted to discover that they were going to sing an aria from Orfeo, which I'm going to on Tuesday and have never heard before. And it was delightful.. but I do love Baroque opera.
Highlight of the show had to be the guest choir - the Mallorca Gay Men's Chorus - who entered into the thing with great gusto, dressing up, practicing their English, and endearing themselves to us all. They got a standing ovation as they left the stage. Even from the guy in front of me who'd been shaking with laughter, hand over his face, as one of the soloists did his thing - admittedly, that was a shaky voice. The main choir also got a standing ovation when they finished, and well deserved. Oh, and they finished on a U2 song. Quite right too. And what else but Pride..
I was glad not to have to wait too long for my train - it was absolutely freezing after the concert! Tomorrow is Potted Sherlock, in the Vaudeville Theatre. And I'm sorry I said that the Royal Opera House was the only venue to provide a photo of the view from every seat - this place seems to do it too! I only just looked at that, to see what the seat I got with LoveTheatre is like. Well now. With nothing left in the fridge, I think I'll take the opportunity to eat at one of my favourite restaurants tomorrow. Cote is only five minutes' walk from the theatre..
Monday: The RSC production of Henry IV Part I, in the Barbican.
Tuesday: the opera Orfeo, at the Roundhouse. With Helen.
Wednesday: a gig at the Lexington, near King's Cross. They're running a week-long event - The Line of Best Fit - to showcase up-and-coming acts. Particularly interested in Jagaara.
Thursday: The Magic Hour. A Victorian-style magic show, with spirit messages and everything. I like the look of the venue too - the Grand Royale, a glorious old Victorian hotel near Hyde Park.
After I get back from Ireland, on Monday week, I've booked to go to a play in the only theatre within walking distance of me - the Finborough. The play is called Pig Girl, and the theatre is so small that it's always advisable to book.
The show started at 7, which on a weekday would leave me in a tizzy, trying to get everything done in time, but of course at the weekend I'm ready hours before! So, I set off in good time. The platform indicators at both West Brompton and Earl's Court were under the illusion that my train was terminating at Earl's Court, but luckily the train - and, presumably, its driver - knew better, and it took me all the way to Sloane Square. And Cadogan Hall is just up the road, to the right as you exit.
My seat was quite near the stage - just to the side, but with this stage configuration that was ok. I was at a show here before where the stage was extended into the front rows, so I ended up having to look sideways, which wasn't ideal. I was one of the first in, but the hall soon filled - by the end, there were a few free seats, but not many. Eavesdropping on the conversation beside me, I discovered that the lady in the seat next to mine had been to several of these concerts.. but still didn't know what LGBT stands for!
Well, the concert wasn't the most professional I've seen - but it was the most fantastic fun! The theme was "legends", which encompassed both pop and classical. So, we got a bit of Michael Jackson, Tina Turner, Madonna, Joni Mitchell, Queen (natch), Édith Piaf, Mozart, and Monteverdi, among others. I hadn't bought a programme, as usual, and was delighted to discover that they were going to sing an aria from Orfeo, which I'm going to on Tuesday and have never heard before. And it was delightful.. but I do love Baroque opera.
Highlight of the show had to be the guest choir - the Mallorca Gay Men's Chorus - who entered into the thing with great gusto, dressing up, practicing their English, and endearing themselves to us all. They got a standing ovation as they left the stage. Even from the guy in front of me who'd been shaking with laughter, hand over his face, as one of the soloists did his thing - admittedly, that was a shaky voice. The main choir also got a standing ovation when they finished, and well deserved. Oh, and they finished on a U2 song. Quite right too. And what else but Pride..
I was glad not to have to wait too long for my train - it was absolutely freezing after the concert! Tomorrow is Potted Sherlock, in the Vaudeville Theatre. And I'm sorry I said that the Royal Opera House was the only venue to provide a photo of the view from every seat - this place seems to do it too! I only just looked at that, to see what the seat I got with LoveTheatre is like. Well now. With nothing left in the fridge, I think I'll take the opportunity to eat at one of my favourite restaurants tomorrow. Cote is only five minutes' walk from the theatre..
Monday: The RSC production of Henry IV Part I, in the Barbican.
Tuesday: the opera Orfeo, at the Roundhouse. With Helen.
Wednesday: a gig at the Lexington, near King's Cross. They're running a week-long event - The Line of Best Fit - to showcase up-and-coming acts. Particularly interested in Jagaara.
Thursday: The Magic Hour. A Victorian-style magic show, with spirit messages and everything. I like the look of the venue too - the Grand Royale, a glorious old Victorian hotel near Hyde Park.
After I get back from Ireland, on Monday week, I've booked to go to a play in the only theatre within walking distance of me - the Finborough. The play is called Pig Girl, and the theatre is so small that it's always advisable to book.
Friday, 9 January 2015
Play: 3 Winters
When I decided to go to 3 Winters, at the National, tonight, I booked so as to get a cheap seat. Which meant the very back row - but that's ok, all constituent theatres of the National have good sightlines from all seats. That's the great thing about modern theatres. So I picked as central a seat as I could in that row.
The train indicator at West Brompton said the train wasn't going my way. Sadly, this time it was right, and I had to change at Earl's Court. It's always worth doing that - more trains pass through there, and at the least you'll catch the train you would have caught if you waited, while having the chance to catch an earlier one. I only had to wait about a minute for a train from there into town. This evening's promised rain turned out to be a light spattering, which was good, as I had to cross the bridge. And with my cold nearly gone now - I didn't even have to take any water at tonight's performance - I didn't have any respiratory problems climbing the steps onto the bridge. On the South Bank, some of the Christmas decorations are still up:
The National, despite having a couple of entrances I hadn't seen before, is as confusing as ever. Upon following the signs for the box office, naturally, I found no box office (it's not in its usual place either). I found a ticket collection kiosk instead. So I said I'd give it a go, and swiped my card. Imagine my surprise when not one, but three tickets were printed! I was just extracting them when an employee came along with a couple in tow, and removed the last ticket herself. She read them the name on the ticket. "I think that's mine," I said. Obviously their tickets didn't print, for some reason, until I did mine, and they'd gone to fetch her. I did notice that the venue listed on them was the Roundhouse, and I do hope they weren't for tonight - or at least that the show didn't start for quite a while - because that's a very long way from where we were!
I made my way upstairs, where the entrance to my level was. Unfortunately, they're positively allergic in this building to obvious signage, and it was impossible to tell whether to go right or left for the entrance corresponding to my seat number. In my search for it, I actually ended up in the corridor for the toilets. That's how confusing it is! I found it eventually, entered, climbed to the back row, and was delighted to find I didn't have to squeeze past anyone to get to my seat! That's what you get for arriving 10 minutes early.
A trio of ladies arrived just after me and ended up sitting just beside me. And one was recounting to another a conversation a friend was having with an estate agent, and how the friend was saying that she couldn't afford a house - and the estate agent was giving her a right telling-off, saying "you young people say you can't afford a house, and yet what about the gym memberships, and the satellite television subscriptions.. why, I couldn't afford my first house either, but I did without furniture.." and she got very upset. But, the person telling the story concluded, "I can see his point". Eh, anywhere other than London, love. In London, giving up all luxuries and living on bread and water won't get you a house.. or a flat.. personally, if I saved, I might be able to afford a parking space. Mind you, that could be a nice earner in itself - I had to pay £90 to park in a private space for one night when I moved my stuff over, a couple of years back.
And so to the play, which concerns itself with the history of Croatia from 1945 to the present, as told through the stories of one family and a house. Three periods are considered - 1945, 1990, and the present, and as the story unfolds we learn the characters' connections to one another. In 1945, the Second World War was just ending, and the Communist state of Yugoslavia being formed. In 1990, following the fall of Communism, that state was coming to an end, and in the latest section, we see the aftermath, and everyone must re-examine what happened, and what it means going forward.
We don't watch it chronologically, of course. The action zips back and forth between time periods, and sets are changed amazingly quickly, by means of sliding panels, and with the audience distracted by historical footage projected on the stage. And if the above plot description sounds very dry - it isn't. Narrowing it down to one family's story makes it much more real, much more immediate. Although I found the first scene dry, the action heats up when we go back in time, and I was hooked from then on. The plot climax is worthy of any soap opera, and the staging is magnificent.
Well worth a look - despite the trio beside me leaving at the interval, the house was quite full, so booking probably advisable. Playing tomorrow, Sunday matinée, and from the 29th - 3rd, with matinées on Saturday, Sunday and Tuesday.
Tomorrow: 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.
Wednesday: a gig at the Lexington, near King's Cross. They're running a week-long event - The Line of Best Fit - to showcase up-and-coming acts. Particularly interested in Jagaara.
Thursday: The Magic Hour. A Victorian-style magic show, with spirit messages and everything. I like the look of the venue too - the Grand Royale, a glorious old Victorian hotel near Hyde Park.
After I get back from Ireland, on Monday week, I've booked to go to a play in the only theatre within walking distance of me - the Finborough. The play is called Pig Girl, and the theatre is so small that it's always advisable to book.
The train indicator at West Brompton said the train wasn't going my way. Sadly, this time it was right, and I had to change at Earl's Court. It's always worth doing that - more trains pass through there, and at the least you'll catch the train you would have caught if you waited, while having the chance to catch an earlier one. I only had to wait about a minute for a train from there into town. This evening's promised rain turned out to be a light spattering, which was good, as I had to cross the bridge. And with my cold nearly gone now - I didn't even have to take any water at tonight's performance - I didn't have any respiratory problems climbing the steps onto the bridge. On the South Bank, some of the Christmas decorations are still up:
The National, despite having a couple of entrances I hadn't seen before, is as confusing as ever. Upon following the signs for the box office, naturally, I found no box office (it's not in its usual place either). I found a ticket collection kiosk instead. So I said I'd give it a go, and swiped my card. Imagine my surprise when not one, but three tickets were printed! I was just extracting them when an employee came along with a couple in tow, and removed the last ticket herself. She read them the name on the ticket. "I think that's mine," I said. Obviously their tickets didn't print, for some reason, until I did mine, and they'd gone to fetch her. I did notice that the venue listed on them was the Roundhouse, and I do hope they weren't for tonight - or at least that the show didn't start for quite a while - because that's a very long way from where we were!
I made my way upstairs, where the entrance to my level was. Unfortunately, they're positively allergic in this building to obvious signage, and it was impossible to tell whether to go right or left for the entrance corresponding to my seat number. In my search for it, I actually ended up in the corridor for the toilets. That's how confusing it is! I found it eventually, entered, climbed to the back row, and was delighted to find I didn't have to squeeze past anyone to get to my seat! That's what you get for arriving 10 minutes early.
A trio of ladies arrived just after me and ended up sitting just beside me. And one was recounting to another a conversation a friend was having with an estate agent, and how the friend was saying that she couldn't afford a house - and the estate agent was giving her a right telling-off, saying "you young people say you can't afford a house, and yet what about the gym memberships, and the satellite television subscriptions.. why, I couldn't afford my first house either, but I did without furniture.." and she got very upset. But, the person telling the story concluded, "I can see his point". Eh, anywhere other than London, love. In London, giving up all luxuries and living on bread and water won't get you a house.. or a flat.. personally, if I saved, I might be able to afford a parking space. Mind you, that could be a nice earner in itself - I had to pay £90 to park in a private space for one night when I moved my stuff over, a couple of years back.
And so to the play, which concerns itself with the history of Croatia from 1945 to the present, as told through the stories of one family and a house. Three periods are considered - 1945, 1990, and the present, and as the story unfolds we learn the characters' connections to one another. In 1945, the Second World War was just ending, and the Communist state of Yugoslavia being formed. In 1990, following the fall of Communism, that state was coming to an end, and in the latest section, we see the aftermath, and everyone must re-examine what happened, and what it means going forward.
We don't watch it chronologically, of course. The action zips back and forth between time periods, and sets are changed amazingly quickly, by means of sliding panels, and with the audience distracted by historical footage projected on the stage. And if the above plot description sounds very dry - it isn't. Narrowing it down to one family's story makes it much more real, much more immediate. Although I found the first scene dry, the action heats up when we go back in time, and I was hooked from then on. The plot climax is worthy of any soap opera, and the staging is magnificent.
Well worth a look - despite the trio beside me leaving at the interval, the house was quite full, so booking probably advisable. Playing tomorrow, Sunday matinée, and from the 29th - 3rd, with matinées on Saturday, Sunday and Tuesday.
Tomorrow: 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.
Wednesday: a gig at the Lexington, near King's Cross. They're running a week-long event - The Line of Best Fit - to showcase up-and-coming acts. Particularly interested in Jagaara.
Thursday: The Magic Hour. A Victorian-style magic show, with spirit messages and everything. I like the look of the venue too - the Grand Royale, a glorious old Victorian hotel near Hyde Park.
After I get back from Ireland, on Monday week, I've booked to go to a play in the only theatre within walking distance of me - the Finborough. The play is called Pig Girl, and the theatre is so small that it's always advisable to book.
Ballet: Don Quixote
I've never seen the ballet of Don Quixote before. Actually, I've never seen Don Quixote in any form, or even read it. And I only had a vague idea of the outline of the story. But it sounded intriguing, and I don't get to the ballet very often, so I was happy to go to the current production in the Royal Opera House.
Booking was definitely required: when I checked, a week ago, there were only two £25 seats left for last night, at the back of the Amphitheatre - the top level. This was the cheapest available - I'd missed a Time Out offer. Now, the Opera House performs a terrific public service, in that if you select any available seat on the website during the booking process, two photos are displayed: one of the seat (or that bit of floor, if it's a standing ticket), one of the view from there. And these are unique for every single one of the hundreds of seats in the building. Really, it's remarkable. Anyway, from these I could see that the view from those seats, while ok, was a little cramped - you're behind a dip in the ceiling, and while you can see the stage, it just does really feel as though you're squashed into a corner. So I bit the bullet and booked one of the few remaining £55 seats, at the front of the Ampthitheatre, instead.
Delays on the District Line yesterday morning filtered through the whole day, and I had an unusually long wait for a train to Earl's Court in the evening. Probably as a result of this, it was abnormally crowded for that hour. I was glad to change at Earl's Court, when I finally got there, and to get a seat on the Piccadilly Line. A bit of queueing for the lifts at Covent Garden, and I was out. I see the Christmas lights are still up, although not lit - a somewhat sorry sight. I also see they've removed the Paddington Bear statue that used to stand outside the entrance to the Opera House.
There's a sensor on the revolving door to the Opera House, and I think it was having something of a fit as we entered - stopping and starting. Maybe the crowds were too much for it. This is a really popular show, and the queue for ticket collection was the largest I've seen it. But it moved quickly, and I was soon on my way upstairs - not rushing for once, which was nice. Also nice not to have to take the extra flight of stairs to "Amphitheatre Upper". My row was very easy to find, being the one in front of the flight of steps I took to enter the Amphitheatre. And I was early enough only to have to squeeze past two people to get to my seat. And the view was very nice indeed:
Mind you, space is a little tight - there are no armrests in the Amphitheatre, and with a bag as well, there wasn't really enough space under my seat to squash my large, furry, winter coat, which necessarily sat on my lap for the first act. After the first interval though, the nice gent beside me offered to move it to the end of the row, where there's a bit of ledge that's not wide enough to put seats on, but very handy for leaving coats and such. This is a long performance, coming in at three hours, with two intervals. I'm not in the habit of buying programmes, but they do have free running orders at the programme stands, which include a show synopsis as well as timings of performances and intervals, so I picked up one of those on the way in. They're very handy.
Well, have I been lucky with my performances since I came back. This was terrific! The story, essentially, is of an elderly gent, a Walter Mitty-type character who spends his time daydreaming, and imagining himself as a daring knight, off to rescue the lady of his dreams. The prologue is set in his bedroom, and involves the most terrific fantasy sequence, shrouded in mist, where we meet this lady, in a long white dress and veil and en pointe for the whole scene. Indeed, I imagine that every little girl who fantasises about ballerinas imagines one just like this.
Anyhoo, he rides off to have adventures, with his faithful servant, Sancho Panza, and the next scene takes place in the village square. These large crowd scenes are so full of detail that I'm reluctant to get the dvd, which otherwise I might consider, but which tends to focus on the main action. Seeing it live, it's hard to know where to look - if you see it, do cast your eyes around the stage, there are several small stories happening at the edges!
The main story from now on centres on the inkeeper's daughter, who wants to marry her young man, but her father has a rich, foppish fellow in mind for her. Enter Don Quixote to save the day, and many adventures ensue. The dancing technique is fabulous. The backdrops are sumptuous. And what's lovely is that there's a real Spanish feel to the production - the ladies' costumes (apart from the dream sequences) have skirts reminiscent of flamenco dresses, there's Spanish guitar, castanets, tambourines. Also a real dreamlike quality to the whole thing, what with that old man having all those fantasies..
Marvellous show, and I couldn't see an empty seat from where I was. Only four performances left - two sold out, 9 tickets left for Monday week, the "last few" for the following Wednesday. I was lucky to see it when I did. If you want to, you'd better get moving!
As I was coming out, I came out a side door to avoid the crush at the main entrance, so came around the side of the Piazza, where I saw they were dismantling the reindeer that was up over the festive season. Aww. Weirdly though, they hadn't turned off his lights! A late finish because of the long running time, and ongoing delays on the District Line, meant I was back too late to blog last night.
And I'm doing my best to get through all the shows I didn't see over Christmas, of course. Tonight is 3 Winters, at the National. Set over 3 winters during the last 100 years, it gives a snapshot of the recent history of Croatia. I'm in the very back row of the house, for the cheapest tickets!
Tomorrow: a concert by the Pink Singers - Europe's longest standing LGBT choir. In Cadogan Hall. Nice n close.
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 new bookings: next Wednesday, I'm off to a gig at the Lexington, near King's Cross. They're running a week-long event - The Line of Best Fit - to showcase up-and-coming acts. With Wednesday free, I had a listen on YouTube to the headline act there that night and wasn't very enthused, but the act before that, Jagaara, sounded very good! So I said, with a ticket price of £6 (plus 74p in fees..?), not bad, and I booked. And not being that pushed about the headliners means I get home at a reasonable time! Also, it'll compensate in some small way for the fact that I'll be missing yet another Hard Facade gig next Friday - I'm back to Ireland for the weekend.
I'm very excited about Thursday - I'm going to something called The Magic Hour. Running at just over an hour, it's an old-fashioned, Victorian-style magic show, with spirit messages and everything. And the video looks impressive. It's running on Thursdays and Fridays for the rest of the month - with high demand for Fridays - and capacity is limited to 45. I like the look of the venue too - the Grand Royale, a glorious old Victorian hotel near Hyde Park. Also nice n close.
After I get back from Ireland, on Monday week, I've booked to go to a play in the only theatre within walking distance of me - the Finborough. The play is called Pig Girl, and the theatre is so small that it's always advisable to book. Their website seems to be down at the moment, mind. One of those controversial plays, I see..
Booking was definitely required: when I checked, a week ago, there were only two £25 seats left for last night, at the back of the Amphitheatre - the top level. This was the cheapest available - I'd missed a Time Out offer. Now, the Opera House performs a terrific public service, in that if you select any available seat on the website during the booking process, two photos are displayed: one of the seat (or that bit of floor, if it's a standing ticket), one of the view from there. And these are unique for every single one of the hundreds of seats in the building. Really, it's remarkable. Anyway, from these I could see that the view from those seats, while ok, was a little cramped - you're behind a dip in the ceiling, and while you can see the stage, it just does really feel as though you're squashed into a corner. So I bit the bullet and booked one of the few remaining £55 seats, at the front of the Ampthitheatre, instead.
Delays on the District Line yesterday morning filtered through the whole day, and I had an unusually long wait for a train to Earl's Court in the evening. Probably as a result of this, it was abnormally crowded for that hour. I was glad to change at Earl's Court, when I finally got there, and to get a seat on the Piccadilly Line. A bit of queueing for the lifts at Covent Garden, and I was out. I see the Christmas lights are still up, although not lit - a somewhat sorry sight. I also see they've removed the Paddington Bear statue that used to stand outside the entrance to the Opera House.
There's a sensor on the revolving door to the Opera House, and I think it was having something of a fit as we entered - stopping and starting. Maybe the crowds were too much for it. This is a really popular show, and the queue for ticket collection was the largest I've seen it. But it moved quickly, and I was soon on my way upstairs - not rushing for once, which was nice. Also nice not to have to take the extra flight of stairs to "Amphitheatre Upper". My row was very easy to find, being the one in front of the flight of steps I took to enter the Amphitheatre. And I was early enough only to have to squeeze past two people to get to my seat. And the view was very nice indeed:
Mind you, space is a little tight - there are no armrests in the Amphitheatre, and with a bag as well, there wasn't really enough space under my seat to squash my large, furry, winter coat, which necessarily sat on my lap for the first act. After the first interval though, the nice gent beside me offered to move it to the end of the row, where there's a bit of ledge that's not wide enough to put seats on, but very handy for leaving coats and such. This is a long performance, coming in at three hours, with two intervals. I'm not in the habit of buying programmes, but they do have free running orders at the programme stands, which include a show synopsis as well as timings of performances and intervals, so I picked up one of those on the way in. They're very handy.
Well, have I been lucky with my performances since I came back. This was terrific! The story, essentially, is of an elderly gent, a Walter Mitty-type character who spends his time daydreaming, and imagining himself as a daring knight, off to rescue the lady of his dreams. The prologue is set in his bedroom, and involves the most terrific fantasy sequence, shrouded in mist, where we meet this lady, in a long white dress and veil and en pointe for the whole scene. Indeed, I imagine that every little girl who fantasises about ballerinas imagines one just like this.
Anyhoo, he rides off to have adventures, with his faithful servant, Sancho Panza, and the next scene takes place in the village square. These large crowd scenes are so full of detail that I'm reluctant to get the dvd, which otherwise I might consider, but which tends to focus on the main action. Seeing it live, it's hard to know where to look - if you see it, do cast your eyes around the stage, there are several small stories happening at the edges!
The main story from now on centres on the inkeeper's daughter, who wants to marry her young man, but her father has a rich, foppish fellow in mind for her. Enter Don Quixote to save the day, and many adventures ensue. The dancing technique is fabulous. The backdrops are sumptuous. And what's lovely is that there's a real Spanish feel to the production - the ladies' costumes (apart from the dream sequences) have skirts reminiscent of flamenco dresses, there's Spanish guitar, castanets, tambourines. Also a real dreamlike quality to the whole thing, what with that old man having all those fantasies..
Marvellous show, and I couldn't see an empty seat from where I was. Only four performances left - two sold out, 9 tickets left for Monday week, the "last few" for the following Wednesday. I was lucky to see it when I did. If you want to, you'd better get moving!
As I was coming out, I came out a side door to avoid the crush at the main entrance, so came around the side of the Piazza, where I saw they were dismantling the reindeer that was up over the festive season. Aww. Weirdly though, they hadn't turned off his lights! A late finish because of the long running time, and ongoing delays on the District Line, meant I was back too late to blog last night.
And I'm doing my best to get through all the shows I didn't see over Christmas, of course. Tonight is 3 Winters, at the National. Set over 3 winters during the last 100 years, it gives a snapshot of the recent history of Croatia. I'm in the very back row of the house, for the cheapest tickets!
Tomorrow: a concert by the Pink Singers - Europe's longest standing LGBT choir. In Cadogan Hall. Nice n close.
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 new bookings: next Wednesday, I'm off to a gig at the Lexington, near King's Cross. They're running a week-long event - The Line of Best Fit - to showcase up-and-coming acts. With Wednesday free, I had a listen on YouTube to the headline act there that night and wasn't very enthused, but the act before that, Jagaara, sounded very good! So I said, with a ticket price of £6 (plus 74p in fees..?), not bad, and I booked. And not being that pushed about the headliners means I get home at a reasonable time! Also, it'll compensate in some small way for the fact that I'll be missing yet another Hard Facade gig next Friday - I'm back to Ireland for the weekend.
I'm very excited about Thursday - I'm going to something called The Magic Hour. Running at just over an hour, it's an old-fashioned, Victorian-style magic show, with spirit messages and everything. And the video looks impressive. It's running on Thursdays and Fridays for the rest of the month - with high demand for Fridays - and capacity is limited to 45. I like the look of the venue too - the Grand Royale, a glorious old Victorian hotel near Hyde Park. Also nice n close.
After I get back from Ireland, on Monday week, I've booked to go to a play in the only theatre within walking distance of me - the Finborough. The play is called Pig Girl, and the theatre is so small that it's always advisable to book. Their website seems to be down at the moment, mind. One of those controversial plays, I see..
Tuesday, 6 January 2015
Concert: Fascinating Aida
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!
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!
Monday, 5 January 2015
Reading: Winter's Tales
Well, here I am again, back in the Big Smoke! And back to a gruelling schedule - of which more anon. Anyway, tonight's destination was the Wanamaker Playhouse, for the last night of Winter's Tales, which featured a famous actor reading short stories by a famous author, by candlelight. I didn't recognise tonight's actor, who's worked mainly on stage, it seems - but the author was Daphne du Maurier, including her story The Birds, on which the Hitchcock film was based. Enough to get me in the door - but the venue was enough to do that! I'd never been before, and was dying to go.
It's on the same site as the Globe Theatre, and named for the fella that founded them both. Entrance is across the lobby from the entrance to the Globe, so I knew pretty well where I was going. And this venue is one of those that takes longer than you'd think to get to. I know the way, but checked Google maps for the time it would take, and Google Maps actually thought it would take even longer! They had me getting off the Tube at Blackfriars and taking either a boat or bus the rest of the way! Now, I know very well it's quicker to go one stop further on, to Mansion House, and cross the bridge on foot - which I learned from Google Maps, and which I reminded them of. Not that it'll do any good, I'm sure.
Anyway, I left in good time, catching the Tube at West Brompton. The indicator board said the next train wasn't heading my way - but it was lying, as usual, which was handy. And I disembarked at Mansion House, and made the venue with five minutes to spare. Just nice timing. Mind you, as I entered, and took note of where exactly I was going, I was glad I'd booked a seat on the ground floor (the "pit") and didn't have stairs to climb - just so I didn't feel so rushed. The entrance to the pit is just to your left as you enter by the modern door of the Globe complex.
The pit is split on either side of the entrance passageway, and consists of four rows of cushioned, but backless, benches. I'm used to backless benches from the Globe, so that was ok. I discovered that my seat (C8) was right at the end, beside the wood panels that line the passageway, which, at that row, were at such a height that I could rest my elbow on top - which was handy, on occasion. Also, the row curved slightly just there, which gave me a bit of extra room to turn sideways - which was also handy, as the legroom was just a little cramped.
O my, this building is breathtaking! I'm just sorry I couldn't take a photo - I'd been sternly admonished on my way in that photography was STRICTLY prohibited, and there was an usher right in front of me, faced my way. You'll just have to look for some online. I was struck, from the moment I entered, by the fact that everything in there was really made of wood! Well, apart from the cushions, the screws and hinges holding it together, and the candle holders. Yes, you might wonder at the wisdom of having a candlelit event in a wooden building! But the side candles were held in metal sconces, secured to the supporting (wooden) columns by leather straps, and the chandeliers, which also held candles, were iron, by the look of them.
The backdrop to the stage is fabulously ornate, and the whole place, built of a light-coloured wood, looks gorgeous! Especially by candlelight - which was augmented by some soft yellow spotlights in the ceiling. I had time to settle myself nicely, and take out the small bottle of water I'd brought as a precaution, as the damp climate of Ireland has meant I've come back with a slight cough after Christmas. You are allowed to bring drinks in here, as long as they're not in glass containers, and as long as you don't bring food. With the person in front of me not utilising the corner of her bench, I perched it there. And as I waited, the room filled up - I do believe it was sold out.
The stage housed two chairs - a small table beside one, with a carafe and glass of water, and a music stand in front of the other. And in due course, the performers appeared. As well as the lady who was to do the reading, there was a lady who, it turned out, was to play a bit on the violin before and after each story.
As the actor embarked on her excellent reading of the first story, it suddenly struck me that what it most reminded me of was of elocution classes when I was a kid. Or, indeed, exams. Indeed, Daphne du Maurier was one of the writers we recited. How many times did I stand, like that - and I noticed that she was standing the way I'd been taught to stand, with one foot (the right) slightly in front of the other to provide a means of balance - reading text from a folder in my hands, just like that? Not that her elocution was perfect! :-) But the reading was terrific. The first story was The Happy Valley, which I hadn't heard of before, and the second The Birds. And, with musical accompaniment, that was it. Mind you, that was an hour's worth, which is standard for a one-person show. And it never before occurred to me how ominous her stories are! but we only read excerpts in elocution.
My cough behaved itself for The Happy Valley, and I thought I'd gotten away with it. And then I had an exploratory cough while the audience applauded, and that must've woken up my chest, because I found myself desperately trying to stifle a cough during The Birds, of all things! Well, bringing that bottle of water was an act of genius. It's really the only thing to stifle a cough - if it can be stifled. After a tense 10 minutes or so of sipping water constantly every few seconds, then at progressively longer intervals, it subsided for the rest of the show. And I was able to have a proper cough when I got back outside. I'd considered crying off this show because of that cough - I'm so glad I didn't! This was a terrific way to get back into London life. It's just such a pity I missed the other shows in this series. It's so slow-paced, it's a great change from the hustle and bustle of the city.
So, I was finished nice n early, and got a nice shot of St Paul's on the way back to the station. My phone camera does get dazzled by lights, though.. you have to look under the light, to the left:
Mind, I'd have been home earlier if the Tube hadn't decided to take all night. You know, it's interesting - I need a Wimbledon-bound train to get home, but never have I seen one East of Temple! I think some of them must change their destination at some point, and that all Wimbledon-bound trains start off with other destinations. After waiting quite a while, I decided I'd better at least get one that was going to Earl's Court, from where I could walk, if I had to. After a delay of nearly 10 minutes at Gloucester Road, and yet another delay between that and Earl's Court, we finally chugged into the station. Where I had another wait for my Wimbledon train - but it was faster than walking.
Well! After quite a busy Christmas, I had a couple of days free at the end, which I used to, eh, fill up my diary. :-) So, here's what I'm doing for the next week:
Tomorrow: Fascinating Aida at the Queen Elizabeth Hall. I love this act - have seen them on television before, but never live.
Wednesday: a debate on climate change, at King's College. Has the advantage of being free, but you need to book.
Thursday: the ballet of Don Quixote, at the Royal Opera House. Which, you'll remember, is the home of the Royal Ballet. I missed a Time Out offer on this, sadly. Didn't go for the cheapest seats available, but rather for the next price bracket up, which is several rows further forward - I just didn't like the view from the cheaper ones. (The Opera House website is unique in showing a photo of the view from every single seat in the place.)
Friday: a play called 3 Winters, at the National. It's set over three winters, at different periods during the last 100 years, in Croatia.
Saturday: I wanted to go to La Soirée, but only posh seats were left, so I skipped it. Instead, I'm going to 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.
Think that's enough to be going along with..!
It's on the same site as the Globe Theatre, and named for the fella that founded them both. Entrance is across the lobby from the entrance to the Globe, so I knew pretty well where I was going. And this venue is one of those that takes longer than you'd think to get to. I know the way, but checked Google maps for the time it would take, and Google Maps actually thought it would take even longer! They had me getting off the Tube at Blackfriars and taking either a boat or bus the rest of the way! Now, I know very well it's quicker to go one stop further on, to Mansion House, and cross the bridge on foot - which I learned from Google Maps, and which I reminded them of. Not that it'll do any good, I'm sure.
Anyway, I left in good time, catching the Tube at West Brompton. The indicator board said the next train wasn't heading my way - but it was lying, as usual, which was handy. And I disembarked at Mansion House, and made the venue with five minutes to spare. Just nice timing. Mind you, as I entered, and took note of where exactly I was going, I was glad I'd booked a seat on the ground floor (the "pit") and didn't have stairs to climb - just so I didn't feel so rushed. The entrance to the pit is just to your left as you enter by the modern door of the Globe complex.
The pit is split on either side of the entrance passageway, and consists of four rows of cushioned, but backless, benches. I'm used to backless benches from the Globe, so that was ok. I discovered that my seat (C8) was right at the end, beside the wood panels that line the passageway, which, at that row, were at such a height that I could rest my elbow on top - which was handy, on occasion. Also, the row curved slightly just there, which gave me a bit of extra room to turn sideways - which was also handy, as the legroom was just a little cramped.
O my, this building is breathtaking! I'm just sorry I couldn't take a photo - I'd been sternly admonished on my way in that photography was STRICTLY prohibited, and there was an usher right in front of me, faced my way. You'll just have to look for some online. I was struck, from the moment I entered, by the fact that everything in there was really made of wood! Well, apart from the cushions, the screws and hinges holding it together, and the candle holders. Yes, you might wonder at the wisdom of having a candlelit event in a wooden building! But the side candles were held in metal sconces, secured to the supporting (wooden) columns by leather straps, and the chandeliers, which also held candles, were iron, by the look of them.
The backdrop to the stage is fabulously ornate, and the whole place, built of a light-coloured wood, looks gorgeous! Especially by candlelight - which was augmented by some soft yellow spotlights in the ceiling. I had time to settle myself nicely, and take out the small bottle of water I'd brought as a precaution, as the damp climate of Ireland has meant I've come back with a slight cough after Christmas. You are allowed to bring drinks in here, as long as they're not in glass containers, and as long as you don't bring food. With the person in front of me not utilising the corner of her bench, I perched it there. And as I waited, the room filled up - I do believe it was sold out.
The stage housed two chairs - a small table beside one, with a carafe and glass of water, and a music stand in front of the other. And in due course, the performers appeared. As well as the lady who was to do the reading, there was a lady who, it turned out, was to play a bit on the violin before and after each story.
As the actor embarked on her excellent reading of the first story, it suddenly struck me that what it most reminded me of was of elocution classes when I was a kid. Or, indeed, exams. Indeed, Daphne du Maurier was one of the writers we recited. How many times did I stand, like that - and I noticed that she was standing the way I'd been taught to stand, with one foot (the right) slightly in front of the other to provide a means of balance - reading text from a folder in my hands, just like that? Not that her elocution was perfect! :-) But the reading was terrific. The first story was The Happy Valley, which I hadn't heard of before, and the second The Birds. And, with musical accompaniment, that was it. Mind you, that was an hour's worth, which is standard for a one-person show. And it never before occurred to me how ominous her stories are! but we only read excerpts in elocution.
My cough behaved itself for The Happy Valley, and I thought I'd gotten away with it. And then I had an exploratory cough while the audience applauded, and that must've woken up my chest, because I found myself desperately trying to stifle a cough during The Birds, of all things! Well, bringing that bottle of water was an act of genius. It's really the only thing to stifle a cough - if it can be stifled. After a tense 10 minutes or so of sipping water constantly every few seconds, then at progressively longer intervals, it subsided for the rest of the show. And I was able to have a proper cough when I got back outside. I'd considered crying off this show because of that cough - I'm so glad I didn't! This was a terrific way to get back into London life. It's just such a pity I missed the other shows in this series. It's so slow-paced, it's a great change from the hustle and bustle of the city.
So, I was finished nice n early, and got a nice shot of St Paul's on the way back to the station. My phone camera does get dazzled by lights, though.. you have to look under the light, to the left:
Mind, I'd have been home earlier if the Tube hadn't decided to take all night. You know, it's interesting - I need a Wimbledon-bound train to get home, but never have I seen one East of Temple! I think some of them must change their destination at some point, and that all Wimbledon-bound trains start off with other destinations. After waiting quite a while, I decided I'd better at least get one that was going to Earl's Court, from where I could walk, if I had to. After a delay of nearly 10 minutes at Gloucester Road, and yet another delay between that and Earl's Court, we finally chugged into the station. Where I had another wait for my Wimbledon train - but it was faster than walking.
Well! After quite a busy Christmas, I had a couple of days free at the end, which I used to, eh, fill up my diary. :-) So, here's what I'm doing for the next week:
Tomorrow: Fascinating Aida at the Queen Elizabeth Hall. I love this act - have seen them on television before, but never live.
Wednesday: a debate on climate change, at King's College. Has the advantage of being free, but you need to book.
Thursday: the ballet of Don Quixote, at the Royal Opera House. Which, you'll remember, is the home of the Royal Ballet. I missed a Time Out offer on this, sadly. Didn't go for the cheapest seats available, but rather for the next price bracket up, which is several rows further forward - I just didn't like the view from the cheaper ones. (The Opera House website is unique in showing a photo of the view from every single seat in the place.)
Friday: a play called 3 Winters, at the National. It's set over three winters, at different periods during the last 100 years, in Croatia.
Saturday: I wanted to go to La Soirée, but only posh seats were left, so I skipped it. Instead, I'm going to 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.
Think that's enough to be going along with..!
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