See, it was indeed a bank holiday on Monday (yesterday), and given that I was in Ireland for the weekend, I should have stayed over. But I'd already booked The Ferryman for last night, and didn't want to miss it - I think what happened was that, when I booked it, I thought I'd be in London this past weekend. Then Easter came along and fecked up my schedule, so I ended up in Ireland. Now, I could have taken a lunchtime flight back yesterday - but the last time I did that, Aer Lingus blithely cancelled it and put me on the evening flight instead, so I missed my play anyway. Not happening this time!
I swung by the office beforehand anyway - they have free WiFi, plus I needed to Skype my mother from there - I Skype her every weekday, and needed to be in the office for it, after all that hoo-ha about me "having to be in the office" yesterday. And lookee, they had wine in the fridge again! And my, but it was nice. So I ended up drinking far too much of it before I headed out.
The Royal Court, so I hopped on the bus again. And when i got there, some confusion - because someone had posted on the London Dramatic Arts (LDAM) event page that he was there already, with a drink, at a small circular table. I ran into another group member at the entrance, but we couldn't find him, so we just took a nearby table, and when she said she was ordering a cheeseburger, so did I. And a wine. And just as it arrived, so did the organiser - typically late - and had a table booked at the back. So we all schlepped up there - it wasn't big enough for us all, but the others got a table nearby. And that cheeseburger was delish - although another group member, inspired by my recommendation, ordered one and found it greasy. But this is the same person that went vegan for Lent, so.. each to their own.
To be fair, I had a great seat, in the fourth row. And this helped, because it's quite a long show.. although enjoyable throughout. Set during the Troubles, in Armagh, 1981, we start with a tense scene on a city street somewhere - probably Derry. A priest is meeting with some hard men - the body of a man, missing for years, has been found. And this all rings very true - South Armagh has long been known for nationalist violence, and there are still many missing people from the Troubles, whose bodies are probably buried in bogs around the country.
Soon, however, the backdrop lifts, and we find ourselves in the large kitchen of the Carney farm (pictured), where we will spend the rest of the play. And it needs to be a large one, for the traditionally large, multi-generational family they have. And these characters, for the next three hours and more, might be said to take us on a whistle-stop tour of the Troubles. The older members of the family might be said to represent the older Ireland - Aunt Pat, for instance, whose brother fought in 1916, and who hushes everybody so that she can listen to "that bitch", Thatcher, on the radio - at the time during which the play is set, the hunger strikes are in full swing, and hatred of Britain is at a highpoint. But there's also "far-away" Aunt Maggie, who spends most of the play in a wheelchair, gazing wistfully into the distance. She's the one who warns us about banshees, and in the end, she's the only one who can hear them.
Those hard man show up again, representing the modern face of nationalism - and it seems that the family patriarch, Quinn, had business with them once - now devoting himself to hearth and home. His wife, Mary, is hardly seen for much of the play - the mother of several children, she seems to have lost her spirit, languishing upstairs (and a very long staircase it is, too) under the influence of some virus or other, appearing every now and again, frail in a nightie. Instead, busying herself around the kitchen, we have his sister-in-law, Caitlyn, a victim of the Troubles: her husband (Quinn's brother) is the one they found in the bog, and he disappeared when her son, Oisin, was just four years old. Now, 10 years later, Oisin has grown into a troubled young man, seeking a place for himself in this family to which he only belongs on the periphery. We have a group of young hotheads, in fact - various cousins, but with differing attitudes to the discovery of this man's body. Completing this large cast of characters is the gormless Englishman, Tom Kettle, who came to them as a homeless youth, and hasn't improved his knowledge much since. He loves the place and the people, but ultimately ends up doing more harm than he ever intended.
Whew! That's a lot of archetypes, a lot of characters to keep track of, and a lot of action. No wonder it's such a long play. Indeed, we agreed afterwards that we didn't feel the time passing, that it was engaging enough. It's perfectly acted - they even manage to integrate a (real) baby in the Carney family, and a live goose makes an appearance at one point! (I assume that's not the same one that appears, butchered, later.) A poor, startled-looking bunny makes a number of appearances from the inside pocket of Tom Kettle's jacket - he's good with animals.
The characters are believable, the plot rings true, and in this kitchen - the centre of the household - we have a forum for all the goings-on to come; we don't need to step outside it any more. It, and our cast, are large enough to encompass a whole saga of history and to predict what is coming. And it packs a punch - we see life and death in this kitchen, lit candles provide atmosphere, and we even have the ominous wailing of banshees towards the end. A powerful and memorable production, and the whole audience leapt up in a standing ovation at the end. Runs until the 20th, but completely sold out - do go see it if you get a chance.
Afterwards, a few of us stayed on for drinks - but our organiser, too stressed to eat beforehand, was now hungry, and the kitchen was closed. So we schlepped next door to Colbert - a posh-looking French establishment that I've never before visited. It was now past 11, and their kitchen was closed too - but they let us have cold meats, bread, and wine, which they serve till 11:45. I had one of the mini-baguettes - pleasantly warm, and very moreish, spread with the butter that comes in little pots on the table. And the wine was lovely, served straight from the bottle, into pretty glass goblets. Not the cheapest, for sure, but I suspect that dinner here - which was suggested by one of us for a future occasion - would be a delightful experience.
It was nearly midnight by the time we left, and I had great fun on the phone to my mother as I waited for my bus back, trying to persuade her that I hadn't drunk so very much, and that yes, of course I was at home! (It was very noisy.) Should be an earlier one tonight; London Speaks Sessions, LDN Talks @ Night, and London for a Tenner or Less have advertised a talk called Origin of Vampires: Fact or Fiction? Too late to cancel now, if I wanted to - which I don't, this sounds fascinating.
Tomorrow, London Literary Walks is off around Gloucester Road.
On Thursday, Let's Do London - for less! is off on its last scheduled trip to the opera house - the occasion is Mayerling, my favourite ballet, and is sold out by now, I see. We have tickets in both slips and amphitheatre, as usual. The clock is counting down on remaining Meetups for this most excellent group - we're already feeling the pinch of its events being scheduled less frequently. There isn't another group out there like this man's. May the hiatus be brief.
On Friday, I'd bought a ticket to Nell Gwynn, at the Globe - then it turned out that LDAM is going on the same night! (Buy Your Own Ticket.) As the organiser said, it must be fate.. it'll certainly be nice to have company. Odd venue for them, though - I know the organiser doesn't like it.
And on Saturday, I'm joining the London European Club for a classical concert at the Royal Festival Hall. Oh joy, they're playing Beethoven's 9th. LDAM has a double-bill that day, in the Arcola, but it wouldn't be convenient, and I'm not that pushed anyway.
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