Wednesday, first time to meet my boss! Who very sensibly suggested a gelato expedition. I was a bit dubious - she being a vegan- but said I'd risk it.
Well, she does enjoy walking! I seriously thought we'd never get there. And yes, she's a fast walker.. When we finally arrived at Prime Gelato (whose website I can't seem to open).. there was a "Be back soon" sign! Well, she was determined - at least there were tables and chairs outside, where we waited until someone showed. It was a lovely, sunny day.
Happily, they have a non-vegan section! I had two scoops - one of mint chocolate chip (of course), one of hazelnut. In a cone. She paid - and yes, she has a loyalty card. Unfortunately, she needed to get back, so we had to eat on the run. But oh man, the hazelnut was a revelation! Wow, seriously recommended- I can see why this is her favourite. And in all that time, we had a great chat..
Wednesday night, back with Up in the Cheap Seats for Search Party at the Donmar Warehouse. This was an evening of poetry, spontaneously created from audience suggestions, by Inua Ellams, writer of Barber Shop Chronicles. Running all week. (When I mentioned it to my boss, she pulled a face.) Unfortunately, I bought my ticket before one of my cheap ticket sellers (CT) started to offer them for free - what the hey, it wasn't expensive.
So, I left work earlier than usual, leaving time to grab some salted peanuts in the Co-Op beforehand. Got the bus, walked through the area around Seven Dials for the first time in oh so long! Passed the Seven Dials Market - new to me - and it was great to see all the tables out on the street! I was the first of our group there, and it was great to people-watch - and when my companions arrived, also great to chat to them! until it was time to go in.
So yes, I was seated to the side of the stage - when he came on, he sat in that chair. Some of the books scattered around were for sale. The show took the form of him asking for words from the audience - then he'd search on his tablet for poems that he'd written that had that word in them. And read one to us.. generally from his tablet, although that night, I did notice that he recited the last one from memory.
As I tried to explain to my boss next day, I adore hearing good writing recited on stage. I get lost in the mood of it. So I loved this: my only gripe was that no sooner was I lost in a poem - than it was over. Never mind.. this was a terrific evening. Surtitles were provided, typed live because the poems (and therefore content) weren't determined in advance. He had a lovely, chatty, easy demeanour, put us at our ease - and I enjoyed the poetry. Even when, instead of providing a word, someone asked whether he, as an unappreciated poet, could have a go, he was invited on stage to read one of his own! which I thought was a lovely touch. We'd been warned about adult language - sure enough, Inua has apparently written a collection of poems that all have a title that starts with "F***" - little, if any, of the following content has any adult content in it, though. A lot of them do have a dark tone, reflective of the fact that he comes from Northern Nigeria, since overrun by Boko Haram - his family fled when he was small.
Ireland even got a couple of mentions - firstly, when he mentioned that he never used to drink until he went to Ireland and discovered Irish cream, and secondly, in his admiration for Irish revolutionary, Roger Casement, who was the subject of one of the evening's poems. Awesome evening, delighted to find something unusual and so enjoyable. Sadly, there was little enthusiasm for a drink afterwards, despite the show finishing so early, but it was still a great evening.
And it's as well I'm quite familiar with my local bus routes, as Google Maps seemed to have forgotten there was a stop by my place at all! Didn't get the blog done that night, was catching up with other stuff instead.
Now, Thursdays are the day that my boss' main team tend to come in the office - and so I got dragged off for lunch with them, that day. "Market", suggested someone- so that's what we did. They must all really love walking- it was a trek to Whitecross Market. As with all markets, there was a wealth of choice of eateries- when I spotted a katsu stall though, I was sorted.
As it turned out, I was the first to get my food. When I found my boss, I asked her where we were eating. "Oh, back at the office." Uhh. At least we walked back a bit slower. But of course, mine was too cold by the time we got back- and microwaving didn't really help..
On Thursday evening, woohoo! Back with the Crick Crack Club for The Market at the End of the World, at King's Place. Starring Daniel Morden, Sarah Liisa Wilkinson, Clare Murphy, and TUUP. Oh man, was I looking forward to that! The work group have their drinks night on Thursdays too, and I said I'd come for one - we went to the Butcher's Hook & Cleaver, a few minutes' walk from the office. Excellent, strong house white, I have to say!
Well, I left after one, as they repaired elsewhere - had a variety of buses I could take to King's Cross, and arrived at King's Place with tons of time to spare. I'd considered getting something in the cafe - only to discover that the cafe was closed! Bummer. Sat over the side, somewhere I could get my phone charged, making a start on this blog, until it was time to head downstairs.
Downstairs, the bar was open - I was in need of food more than drink, and managed to get a packet of fairly tasteless crisps eaten in time to go in and get a seat; despite us having seat numbers on our tickets, we were told that seating was unallocated. Striving to get as close as possible to the front, I headed around the far side, and managed a seat at the end of the second row.
What a joy it is to be in the hands of four such consummate professionals! I guess each story lasted about 15 minutes, because each storyteller had time to tell one before the interval, about an hour in, and with each also telling one afterwards, it was about a two-hour show. All around the theme of markets, and what a wild and wacky set of markets they were. Strange things were bought, magic was performed, thieves and swindlers abounded. TUUP had his bongo, but was a bit more restrained than usual - I loved his gentle drumming as Clare did the intro though, spine-tingling. As usual, her first story came from Ireland, with a nod and a wink. Sarah Liisa's were Nordic, as ever, with a feeling of fun throughout. TUUP's second story was obviously designed for an audience that had spent the interval drinking, as he described to us the problems inherent in a harvest of penises - man, his telling was hilarious! But it was Daniel who won the night for me, the star of a first-class group, as his second story, in particular, was the exotic weaving of a tale from Armenia, about a prince who falls in love with a shepherdess - when she tells him she cannot marry a man without a trade, he employs a Persian master weaver to teach him how to weave gold cloth. Later, when he is tricked at a marketplace, this skill saves his life. Absolutely engrossing. And what a joy to have live storytelling again.
On the bus home, I was reminded somewhat of the Dairy Milk ad with the little boy on a bus who offers some of his Dairy Milk to a weeping woman. Except in this case, the lady in question seemed a little tipsy - and was, indeed, carrying a small bottle of wine. She was certainly flustered, dressed in a summery dress, and after she sat just across from me, she soon started to sob. Plenty of looks in her direction, but nobody offered her anything.. she flounced off in Shoreditch, so we shall just have to wonder what her evening involved.
That night, again, I got caught up doing other things, and the blog didn't get done. On Friday, nothing major was catching my eye, and I had nothing booked - which was just as well, as someone at work was having leaving drinks. So, back to the Butcher's Hook & Cleaver, second night in a row. And I stayed longer this time, the chat was mighty, I knew more people, and the guy who was leaving proved hilarious (I'd never before spent time with him socially). Aww, another fun person bites the dust! Anyway, just lucky I'd had nothing booked. Drank a bit too much, again.. But none of us had any idea what this guy was doing - he seemed to be pouring wine into the openings on top, which came out as bubbles..?
And was definitely too tired to blog, especially as I had to be up early next morning.
You see, this was an Ireland weekend for me, and I should have flown on Friday - but could not get a Friday flight for love nor money, as they say. And so, booked myself on a flight Saturday lunchtime. (Well, I got my Friday night free that way.) There was a slight panic, when I realised I couldn't text for some reason - so I messaged my taxi driver on Facebook on Friday night to pick me up. Whereupon it transpired that he was away, and had blocked my car in.. So he phoned his father, 6am Saturday, to go for me, and to bring a key to move the other car. Lordy me..
The train to the airport was uneventful - apart from an uptight lady sitting across from me, who was fiddling with her luggage as I was trying to get into my seat. She bumped into me, shot daggers at me, and then silently shook her head in disgust. Spent most of the trip sanitising.
Having escaped her clutches, I arrived at the airport, timing everything - sure enough, again I was an hour too early. Ryanair was good enough to text me again (I had no problem receiving texts) to let me know what my gate was probably going to be - and so it proved. And I dozed a bit on the flight back - unfortunately, I couldn't get comfortable. I couldn't get much air out of my vent, despite having turned it to the max and pointing it directly at me, and especially with the mask, I was stifling. Had to take off the mask at one point, out of sheer discomfort.
Our first experience of being asked for Covid documentation was arriving in Shannon, where everyone had to show a receipt for having sent off a passenger locator form. And yes, one young fellow hadn't done it, and was made to go over the side and fill one out on the spot. Good luck to him - with all the details I had to look up for it, it must have taken me half an hour! (I did it during a quiet moment at work on Thursday.) It was a palaver to handle both that and my passport, mind, to get through customs. Got back to my mother's eventually (shopping on the way, of course) - I didn't plan anything else for that day, I was tired, and it was good to chill. Indeed, I literally fell asleep while doing the blog that night.
Yesterday, headed to the pictures - best-rated was The Many Saints of Newark, showing nice and early in Ennis. And I was delighted, upon watching the trailer, to discover that this was one I'd heard of a while back, which looked really good! The coming of age of Tony Soprano, basically. Now, I never really watched the TV series, but I do love a good gangster movie, so I was hooked.
Didn't bother to book, as booking was slow. Parked in my usual place - free on Sundays. When I went to buy my ticket at the cinema, however, I got a surprise - they're now asking for your Covid cert before they'll sell you a ticket! There'd been a notice about that on the website, and a sign at the top of the stairs, but I hadn't paid any attention. Well, thank goodness I had it on my phone, and she patiently waited for me to dig it out so she could scan it.
There were four of us in the screen. Some trailers were shown, for decent-looking films.. and then the censor's certificate came up. For, eh, Malignant! Someone across from me went to tell an usher, and while we waited for them to change it, we got about the first five minutes of Malignant. Now, this is a horror film, and I'll always give those a shot - but honestly, it looks awful. A cartoonishly strong and evil man is incarcerated in a mental institution - but Lord knows why, since he finds it so easy to overpower the guards. Anyway, for some reason, he calms down eventually and is overpowered himself, and the clinic director is just saying how he's been a bad b.. and they finally got around to changing the reel, so that was all we saw of that. And frankly, it's now come off my film list. Not what I've come to expect from James Wan.
So, back to the gangster film. Handily, they have the young Tony Soprano played by Michael Gandolfini, the son of the late James Gandolfini, who played him in the TV series - so he's quite believable as someone who could turn into the older man. Vera Farmiga is his mother, Ray Liotta plays both his great-uncle, who's in prison for the whole movie, and makes a few appearances in there, and also plays Tony's grandfather, the convict's brother.
One review said there were far too many references to The Sopranos - well, I wouldn't know. But I really enjoyed it - perhaps a bit overlong, but beautifully acted, compelling, and of course, ultra-violent. So, if you like gangster films, you'll like this! The title, BTW, refers to Ray Liotta's characters' surname, Moltisanti, which means "Many Saints". And the main subject isn't Tony, but rather his uncle and mentor, another of the Molitsantis.
Afterwards, back to An Teach China for the first time in weeks. Now, the last time I was there, I ordered a dessert that they never gave me. Well, would you credit it - she remembered! and gave me the same dessert last night for free. Now there's customer service. And yes, absolutely delicious, as always - and we're still making our way through the prawn crackers.
Well, I have most of this week off, so I'm staying in Ireland for a few days. With Malignant gone from the film list, I'm left without much to go see - next up is Respect, the Aretha Franklin biopic starring Jennifer Hudson. Forest Whitaker plays her father, a Baptist minister who got her started singing in church. I hear good things, I hear she sings a blinder - so, looking forward to that. But I'd like to go to the earliest showing, at 2.20pm in the Omniplex - I can't make that today, having to pick up my mother's pension, and preferring to do it in the afternoon - but tomorrow will do just fine.
No comments:
Post a Comment