Concert: A Night in Vienna

Back to Ireland for the weekend - with a mishap that wasn't of my doing; someone ended up under a Tube train on the westbound line towards Heathrow. It had just happened, and happened a few stops ahead of us - which means that I might, or might not, have missed it, had I not forgotten the Print at Home tickets for the concert we were going to last night, and had to go back for them. Well, that kind of thing closes lines for hours, so there was no hope of getting to the airport that night - I flew yesterday morning instead. Having bad luck these days with flights..

My flight was early enough that we had time to eat before heading to Mass, and then to the concert. We chose the Sherwood Inn, for its convenience, close to the cathedral and to Glór - goodness knows, it's good value too. We got one of the few spaces outside the shopping centre, and queued for a short while in the restaurant, being seated by the window near the bar, for once. I fancied soup, which is delicious here, and chicken kiev, with onion rings - I've had them before here, and know they're tasty. Skipped the garlic bread, after the last time, though. My mother, of course, had salmon. With wine, the bill came to under €30 for us both! No dessert, of course - we didn't have time, and anyway, you pay in advance here, and I've never yet had anyone come back to ask us whether we want a dessert..

The soup was divine, as ever. My chicken came absolutely drowned in garlic sauce - but tasty, as were the onion rings. My mother had asked for a half portion - huge half portion it was, and we were stuffed as we waddled out of there. Found parking at the cathedral, and - our devotions done - got a nice parking space close to Glór as well. Yes, I could walk between them all - but my mother couldn't, so some moving and reparking of the car was required. Anyway, it poured rain all day Saturday.. it was good not to have to walk far.

We were early to Glór, and took a sofa at the bar, where I had another wine, and my mother some very watery tea - which she hardly touched. I'm not a tea drinker, but from the appearance of it, I couldn't blame her. And we waited - and waited - for the doors to open, spending our time assessing the fashions of fellow audience members. It didn't say on the tickets which door we were to go to, so it did save us some time - and walking - when I remembered which it was - they're picky about that, here. Inside, we had seats on Row F - the one with the aisle directly in front, so plenty of legroom: and not too far from the stage.

This was a violin concert - primarily - by Vladimir Jablokov, whom we've seen here before, and who always gives a show to my mother's taste. In fact, it was part of the Bealtaine / Voltage festival; Bealtaine, the Irish for May, is an annual festival for the aged - so my mother wasn't the only elderly person in the crowd. And it was just perfect for them - lots of Strauss, lots of familiar pieces, with Vladimir hopping merrily about the stage, eyes twinkling. He even hopped off stage and into the crowd for the last number, playing his violin as he walked up the aisle.

He has a habit of including his family in his concerts, and last night had his father on violin, and his sister on piano (in a much-remarked-upon, dark red, flouncy evening gown). His father - not a Strauss fan really, it seems - was indulged for one classical number: Meditation, by Thais. Cue an enraptured audience - and a slightly embarrassed one, when several people started clapping during the quiet bit before the end. There were also two singers - a soprano whom I haven't heard of, and the rather excellent tenor Sean Costello, who was indulged, near the end, with a solo performance of Nessun Dorma.

A very enjoyable evening. Enhanced by the old lady behind us, who tra-la-la-ed along to pretty much everything. And the lady who came around at the interval, with ice cream, did a roaring trade. Still lashing rain on the way home.. Funnily enough, checking my mail when I got home, I found a brochure from the University Concert Hall, where Sean Costello will be performing Mario Lanza around my mother's birthday, in October - accompanied by the Slovak Festival Musicians - conducted by Vladimir Jablokov. Must book that, tomorrow..

Way too tired to blog last night, and only just now made the time. It's been a busy day - now that Aer Lingus has switched to the later, summer schedule, we have time to go out to eat on Sunday as well, and chose the Abbey Tavern. Where we were most excellently fed, with me having a rare occasion to have turkey - they serve it on the Sunday lunch menu. Saves me cooking when I get over here, anyhow.

After a day in Guildford tomorrow - which I'm not looking forward to, what with a work conflict looming - I'm back with the Crick Crack Club, for Kali - in Soho Theatre again.

Restaurant: Sherwood Inn & Comedy: Pat Shortt (Selfie)

I'm on Glór's mailing list, so they send me a listings email every now and again. And when I see something come up for a weekend when I'll be back in Ireland, and I think my mother would like it, well, I sound her out. She agreed that a Pat Shortt show sounded good, so I booked two tickets - it was mostly sold out already, but I got two tickets near the end of the row with the aisle in front. More legroom!

They have a Print at Home facility now, which is so handy. I had to make sure to print out the tickets before I flew back, though - she doesn't have a printer. And, tickets in handbag, yesterday afternoon, we set off. We needed some things in Tesco, so decided to eat in the restaurant beside it - The Sherwood Inn.

Just as well we weren't in a hurry - although we expect that from this place. After a few minutes, we were seated - right beside the exit. This was ok, except for two things: firstly, the doors were of the sort where there's a wrong way to close them - and this greatly vexes my mother. And, of course, once one person has done it, so does everyone coming after.

Secondly, we were right down the back. I actually don't think this affects the service - I think it's uniformly slow, for whatever reason. But it's not very reassuring. Well anyway, our order was taken quickly enough, and the server couldn't have been more obliging; whatever peculiarities we wanted would be catered for. No sauce on that? No problem. No pineapple with that? No problem. Half portion, perhaps?

I ordered soup to start, which took absolutely ages. I do wonder at that. I mean, surely the soup was pre-prepared and all they had to do was reach into the large pot, ladle some into a bowl, mop up any drips, and out it comes? Well, it did come eventually. With bread, as asked for. No soup spoon though. I had to point this out to the young girl who'd brought it, who apologised and went to get me one. Then I noticed there was no butter with the bread, but figured I'd manage. The bread wasn't great, to be honest, and I was glad when the original server noticed, at some point, that I had no butter and brought me some. With another apology. It greatly improved the taste of the bread.. of course, I had no butter knife, but I used my dinner knife and wiped it afterwards. No big deal.

I had gammon for main course, my mother had salmon. She'd asked for it with no sauce, and that's how she got it. I'd asked them to leave off the pineapple that came with my gammon, though - I don't like it and never eat it. I got pineapple. No big deal. And the food was all very nice, and the onion rings we had as a side order were massive, and very tasty.

And we.. were.. waiting.. forever to order dessert. Really, after a while we didn't feel like it anymore. I wonder whether anyone ever has it here! So when server #1 came, we just paid her. And although she engaged us in chummy banter, we didn't tip. Didn't feel the whole experience merited it, really. And we left.

We arrived in time to get a good parking space in Glór. I didn't have to go to the box office, of course, so we just headed to the café at the side of the lobby, where we had cake - chocolate for me, lemon meringue for her - and wine. When someone eventually came to the till to take orders! The cake was lovely - the wine was too much for her, and I ended up drinking both. But I managed to walk a straight line into the auditorium..

The usher was terribly confused as to where everyone was supposed to be sitting. Extra seats had been added, you see. I'd have been more successful finding the seats myself. Plenty of legroom, as anticipated. A side view of the stage, but you could see everything. The seat on my other side - at the very end of the row - was free for a while, but shortly filled by a man with expansive elbows and a chatty demeanour, who explained that he loves Pat Shortt and had only heard about this from his friend that very day, and booked it, a few hours before. And he'd come straight from work.

When I told someone I was coming to this show, he remarked that he hoped I wasn't in the front row. Well, for this show, you might have been safe in the balcony - otherwise, you were fair game. Pat Shortt really loves to engage with his audience. He didn't come on stage to start - oh no, he appeared in the audience, in costume, assuming the guise of a reporter for the "Out & About" section of the newspaper, pretending he knew people and greeting them like old friends.

The main first section of the show has him pretending to be an undertaker. Which allows him to recreate a funeral. Don't sit in the front row? Indeed.. he swapped several people in the front row with people from further down. As if this were a funeral, and they were sitting in the bereaved family's spot, you see. And then he co-opted six people as coffin bearers, and two more to carry wreaths of flowers, and the first act ended with the procession of the coffin out into the lobby.

You think you're safe at the interval? Think again. He popped up in the auditorium, offering plates of sandwiches. Then he nipped out to the lobby, to make sure they didn't miss out on any. When he popped in again, some misfortunate man was about to take his seat. He ended up taking the plate of sandwiches instead, to be redistributed..

The second act is less interactive, with more musical performances - ending with his hit, Jumbo Breakfast Roll. Ach, he's crazy really. Those not really familiar with rural Ireland might miss some of the references, and the accent is even hard for me to decipher at times - but his shows are great. Daft as a brush. Recommended, for those who like such things.

And then, last night, there were horror films on telly, and then there were soaps to catch up on, and I haven't had time to blog until now. Back in London at last, and Meetups for the next four days:

Monday with the Crick Crack Storytelling Club again, although in the Soho Theatre this time, so possibly more conventional. Tuesday, I'm back with Film Nite, at another discussion in Soho House - this time, about Gone Girl. Love that film! Wednesday, I'm going to a meeting of the European club, where they'll be discussing Ireland. And on Thursday, I'm going to a Spring Extravaganza concert, where the same group has organised cheap tickets. Still have to pay for that..

A Whistle in the Dark

Unfortunately, I was caught up in the bird strike fallout at Heathrow on Friday, as I was coming to Ireland, when two of a plane's engines caught fire and it crash-landed at Heathrow. Both runways were temporarily closed, and all short-haul flights before 4pm were cancelled. My flight was later, at 7.35pm, but the resultant backlog meant that it was the most delayed of the Irish flights; the departure time was moved later and later, and finally settled at 10.30pm.

So, I took up position in an armchair - one of four - around a table at the bar in the "Irish hub"; the furthest you can go before you know which gate you'll want. This turned out to be the most excellent arena for welcoming fellow wandering, delayed, passengers, and I met several, who occupied chairs for varying lengths of time.

Longest there, and first to arrive, was Maggie - a gregarious lady, who lives in Stockholm, and works as a buyer for a clothing company. This work takes her all over - mainly to Istanbul and Morocco, and she works two days a month (I think it was) in London. Originally from Newmarket, where our current president spent his childhood, she was heading back for her godson's First Holy Communion - her great-niece was also participating, and she needed presents for both. We had interesting conversations about many and varied things.

There was a businessman, in a suit, heading back to Dublin, who stayed just for a coffee. His flight was only delayed by half an hour - lucky beggar - and he didn't stay long.

There was a lovely young lady from Cavan, who moved to London for college and now works there as a PE teacher. She was flying back for a week - she had a christening (I think) in Leitrim and her local Gathering next weekend. We had a lovely natter before she took her flight to Dublin, where she was to stay with her brother, who lives in Santry, near the airport, before they drove to Leitrim next day.

There was, briefly, an American couple, but they seemed jetlagged, didn't say much, and moved when they saw there was a free sofa where they could stretch out.

There was a couple flying to Belfast. He didn't say much, but she was a fun, bubbly person, who had plenty to talk about with Maggie, who used to live in Belfast. The Belfast lady got so engrossed in conversation that I had to point out to her that their flight was actually now boarding..!

And finally, there was the young lady from Limerick (well, Clonmel originally), who said she was 40 but looked 26. She was a religious sort, Maggie wasn't, and they had an animated conversation about that. And we all had an animated conversation about the Middle East, and how she would like to go to Syria, but well.. and to Jordan, and how interesting she had found Israel. And then Maggie informed her that she had lived in Israel for a while, and loved how direct the Israelis were..

Our flight finally left at 11.

After a meal at the Sherwood Inn, which, although tasty and very attractively priced, would have been much improved if anyone had come to take an order for dessert - went to A Whistle in the Dark, at Glor in Ennis, last night. A touring Druid production, it dates from 1960, and is a powerful play about a rough Irish immigrant family in Coventry. Recommended, if it passes your way, although I did find Betty's character a bit weak. And a cushion is recommended - the legroom is fine, but the seats not best comfortable.

Thinking of heading to the Chatham Saxophone Quartet, in the Iniscealtra Festival, tonight. And we even have a fine day for it!