Second impressions

As we arrive in Florence the airport coach crosses the Arno, and there spread before us is the view from all those images and films. The sun is shining and it looks beautiful. I’ve been before, but it was 17 years ago on a trip that also took me to Venice and Lake Garda. Now I reflect on it, I recall little of the actual experience of Florence and think that was because I fell so utterly in love with Venice that it faded in the memory. ‘Seventeen years’ is a refrain that I think Cat must have got sick of hearing over the last few days.

We walk from the station to our accommodation, which is just near the Duomo. It proves a little difficult to find, so I have to try out my Italian and ask a policeman. We still end up speaking English though. Walking back the way that we’ve come, we spot a tiny sign next to a huge door, and ring the bell. The Residenza is on the top floor, and we start up the stairs with our heavy cases. We reach the first floor before I realise that there is actually a lift!

Our room is comfortable and spacious, and when we look out of the window we can see the Duomo and the Campanile di Giotto. This really is a ‘room with a view’ that E.M. Forster* would have been proud of. After unpacking, we venture out and walk around the Piazza del Duomo, and down to the Uffizi Gallery and the Ponte Vecchio. I’m slightly dazzled by all the goldsmiths as we cross it, selling jewellery so ostentatious that much of it is too ‘bling’ even for me! It’s all very busy with tour groups playing ‘follow the umbrella’ and I’m very glad that we can deviate from the main tourist track.

Everywhere you look is a photo opportunity. You look upwards, and a shop turns out to be housed in a 15th C. palazzo. I’m a little overwhelmed by all the history, and thoughts of all those who have walked here before me. I feel slightly drunk and light headed at the thought.

Later, after a fantastic meal, we return to a much quieter Piazza della Signoria for a drink and we’re able to enjoy the statues under the Loggia de Lanzi that was earlier crowded with people. Nearby, someone is playing some music - this has to be close to heaven.

*OK, so it’s not a view of the Arno

The world must have got smaller somehow

This morning, I woke up in Pisa, and had breakfast in York - I was standing outside Wetherspoons before 9, waiting for it to open, for an 'end of holiday' fry up. I'm not sure that my brain has actually assimilated how this is possible, but my body is feeling particularly knackered.

Coming very soon, once I am back in the real world, my thoughts on Florence, Pisa, and our fabulous 'room with a view'. For now, I'm finishing unpacking, and watching Dr Who later, as long as I stay awake!

Literary Ladies

‘She had me at ‘Shakespeare’

At one of our Friday ‘meet-ups’ a few weeks ago, we planned a visit to the Scarborough Literary Festival and booked tickets for a literary luncheon. So it was, that on the first cold day for three weeks (that ‘sea breeze’ can be bitter), we found ourselves at the inaugural event of the first festival.

I’d never been to anything like this before, and did wonder if I’d enjoy it when the speaker was someone I’d never heard of. It turned out to be fantastic. We had a huge (and delicious) lunch, and between courses, the writer, Patricia Duncker, read extracts from her novel, Miss Webster and Cherif, and talked about literature. I guess it also helped that we’d ordered a bottle of champagne.

She didn’t just talk about her work, but also the literary inheritance. She’s a university professor, and spoke of the dark elements in Shakespeare’s comedies, how there is always someone who doesn’t get the happy ending, and the impact of the wilderness in literature.

Over lunch, we spoke to a couple of the organisers, from the Library Service. Apparently, in planning the event they'd visited lots of other festivals to see how it was done, and make contacts - what a fab job is that?!

It was fascinating, so, of course, I bought the book. I have to say it isn’t one I’d have picked up in Borders. I haven’t started it yet. I’ll let you know what I think

Where angels fear to tread

It's nearly midnight and I'm looking for my passport.

I go to the place it usually lives. It isn't there. Hmmm, this has happened before, I hope I haven't put it 'somewhere safe'.

When did I last have it? I know that, it was early April, when I needed something as proof of identity. I remember looking at it, and realising that I'll need a new one next year, and will have to have one of those horrid electronic pics.

Where did I put it after that? Is it with all the other papers from that time. I check. No, it isn't! I have to find it now. I can't go to bed, as I won't sleep. I check drawers, and cupboards, and other papers. No joy.

I was sitting on the sofa last time I remember having it. Maybe it's slipped down the side of the sofa. I decide to check. This means moving the girls, who are curled up for the night. Bella gives me a baleful glance and jumps down onto the floor. I check her side first. Lots of biros, two pairs of scissors, a compact mirror, and sweet wrappers. No passport.

The other side means moving Rosie, and she's not happy about this. More biros, even a small novel, but again, no passport. I check the bookshelf alongside the sofa. I've done this once, but check again, and there it is, in the middle of a stack of books.

If I was tidier and actually put things away, life would be a lot less stressful!

'Sometimes international theatre can make you see things differently'

That’s what PAF said when we were considering what to go and see in London. She’d sent me a link to ‘Nine Hills, One Valley’ which was playing at the Barbican Theatre, and I expressed concern that it looked ‘a bit weird’ and wasn’t in English. But I decided to give it a go, as it had the advantage of being all of two minutes from her door.

Now, I’ve been to the Barbican quite a few times, as it used to be the London home of the RSC. So I’m familiar with it’s stage door too. It’s 25 years old this year, and, like the rest of us, it’s showing it’s age. The first time I went there, it all seemed so ultra-modern and high tech (I loved then, and still do, the way that all the doors close simultaneously before the start of a show), now it’s looking a little faded, and stuck in a bit of a time warp.

As I settled in my seat, looking at a bare stage, I remembered other productions I’d seen there. A fantastic Merry Wives, The Dream, a fabulous Goldoni play, The Venetian Twins, when David Troughton almost ended up sitting on my knee. As the production began, I quickly realised that I was better off thinking back to the glories of the past.

What was it like? Well, there was a lot of wailing, and it must be a language with very long words, as they’d wail for about 5 minutes, and you’d get one short surtitle. I don’t think I’ll be going to Manipur for my holidays as they don’t seem a barrel of laughs I’m sure if you come from there, it was deep and meaningful, but I’m afraid it left me cold. It seemed to do the same to the rest of the audience, as, by 30 minutes in, they were leaving in droves. We stuck it out, mainly because I can’t do that to the performers, however bad it is. The audience were so baffled, no one realised when it had finished, so we ended up applauding an empty stage! The Guardian seemed to quite like it, but they make the point that you need to read the programme beforehand to have any clue what it's all about. Unfortunately we didn't have time.

In hindsight, it was quite funny. I’d totally missed the point of one key section (or at least I was told so – I think my thoughts were in a wood somewhere outside Athens by that point). As we left (thankfully it was only 90 minutes), I headed straight for the bar, and the vodka cocktail special. I needed it.

Travels without a mobile phone

I was driving past Leicester Forest East Services when I realised. I may be halfway down the M1, but my mobile phone was still attached to the charger in the kitchen!

It’s amazing how vulnerable that immediately made me feel. We’ve become so dependant on mobiles, that you never think anymore about how to contact someone if you don’t have one. Worse, I don’t even remember phone numbers, as they’re all programmed into the phone by name.

So, I was faced with a couple of days away, which were already logistically complicated, without any immediate means of contacting people. The first challenge came when I had to find my hotel that evening. Luckily the directions were pretty good, and I found it quite easily (I’m someone who, as yet, doesn’t have satnav)

The following morning, I had to get from my hotel to my meeting place. It was only across town, and I had directions. It should take around 20 minutes. 45 minutes later I knew the main roads of St Albans better than I felt I needed to, but was still totally lost. If I’d had the phone, I’d have called about half an hour ago, and asked for new directions. As it was, I couldn’t even think where you would find a public phone these days. In the end I had to go to the one road I knew, and follow that in. I eventually arrived to find that the directions I’d been given were wrong anyway!

At the end of the day, I was going to London, and getting the train. PAF* was meeting me at Moorgate station, and I’d given her a time, so I had to get a particular train, as again, no way to contact her. At least this time I had an address if all else failed. As it turned out, after much stress, I caught my intended train, and we met up ok.

The following morning, after an early journey out from London, I made it back to St Albans. I still couldn’t find the direct route, but this time I knew where to head for.

Finally, by one o’clock, I was heading home. What a relief to be going north on the M1, and back to home, and the phone.

*Professional actress friend

Happy Blog Birthday

Yes, it's this blog's birthday today. One year ago, Easter Sunday, I decided to plunge into the world of blogging. I wasn't sure where it would take me, or what I'd say, or if it would be read by more than one or two people. I still don't have a wide readership, but I get hit by quite a lot of 'theatrical' googles (though the 6 different googles on variations of '57 academics punched the air' amused me!).

I know I've enjoyed writing it so far. As expected, it's been heavily theatre orientated, but other things have featured more, or less, than I'd have expected. Some weeks I have little to write about, others, like this last week, there's so much I can't keep up with it. How long will I keep going? I don't know, but I'm not bored yet. And I do like to read your comments.

So, happy birthday, blog. Here's to the next year.

Booze cruising on the Ouse

4 pics in one post, that must be a record!

When Cat asked me if I wanted to join her at the album launch for Rick Witter and The Dukes, on a 'booze cruise with a live band' I have to admit it was the thought of the boat trip and the bar that swung the decision. My only previous experience of Rick Witter was when Shed Seven played the Summer Ball gig at the end of my first year at Uni, and I'm afraid we'd left part way through the set. But this was an exclusive event, with very limited tickets, so it all felt a bit special. And I'm all for a bit of exclusivity.

As it turned out, it was a fab night, with wine, cocktails, wide ranging discussions, beautiful surroundings and good music. What could be better? Cat educated me in the need to wave at everyone on the tow path until they waved back, and then we obtained our own personal crowd (of one) when I rang J, who lives by the river and told her to come out and wave at us. And she did! As we performed mock bows at each other, and someone asked 'do you know that woman?', it was very tempting to reply, 'no, never seen her before in my life!'

And it was a 'proper' gig, with Rick working the crowd like the pro that he is (soooo skinny, though!), and thanking everyone for coming. It all go a bit sweaty down on the lower deck, and there was a bit of bouncing. As for the music, I really enjoyed it, ok, some more than others, but it had real energy.

A really good night, and a fab way to 'launch' an album. It could give people ideas.

Deja vu

Yesterday morning I got up to find I'd missed 3 calls, asking me if I wanted to go walking at Beningbrough. 'I did that on Monday!' 'Well, you can do it again, can't you?'

So we were off, on a misty morning, and we walked along the river through the parkland, even though the house, and, more importantly, therefore the tea shop, wasn't open. I guess we did a couple of miles again. I did a bit of whinging, as I was wearing the non-trainers again, and the grass was damp. They got muddy, and my feet got wet! It's all very well saying 'stride out, and think of Mr Darcy' but it doesn't work with wet feet.

We stopped at a garden centre on the way back. It had a tea shop with luscious home made cakes, and I didn't even know it existed. Fancy that.

It's all getting a bit energetic though, that's 3 walks in a week!

Scenes from a theatre bar

Scene one

Conversation has turned to 'The Shakespeare Code'

‘I loved it’
‘I wanted to love it more’
‘You didn’t want Dr Who, you wanted David playing Shakespeare’
I consider for a moment
‘Yes, I did’

Scene two

‘We’ve moved onto the Romantic poets now, but I have to tell you something’ I pause, for a little dramatic effect. ‘We’re missing out Bryon’

I look at Corinne. It’s a good job she’s sitting down. Her mouth is open, and is moving, but any sound can only be heard by dogs.

‘How can you do the Romantics without Byron’
‘Don’t blame me, blame those who set the OU syllabus’ I try distraction ‘Did you see that Bo’sun* got a mention in the programme?’
Cat tries to assist: ‘we saw his grave...at Newstead...you're going to get married in a marquee on the lawn**’

*That would be Byron’s dog
**I'd like to stress that this is a long term plan

'Our revels now are ended'

I started my birthday with breakfast in Betty's (very nice), and ended it in the bar of the West Yorkshire Playhouse, having seen some Shakespeare, so it was all pretty good.

In between, I shopped – I bought the blue walking shoes, and then wandered into lots of jewellery shops trying to find something ‘pretty’, but managed to resist.

For the evening, we had tickets for Northern Broadsides production of The Tempest at the West Yorkshire Playhouse. I like Northern Broadsides, as long as Barrie Rutter controls himself, which he did on this occasion. As a company they have lots of energy and its always a very lively performance in Northern voice (rather than accent) with musical accompaniment.

The Tempest isn’t my favourite Shakespeare, and there was a point a few years ago where I felt I’d seen it enough, for the time being, but I hadn’t seen it since I studied it on my OU Shakespeare course, so I wanted to see it again.

As we walked into the theatre, I reminisced about the last time I saw it at the WYP, when Ian McKellan was playing Prospero and forgot his lines. He had to go off stage and get the book. I remember a lot of bubble wrap too. It wasn’t very good!

This production was much better. It was fast paced, light, funny, and it didn’t dwell on any of the darker elements. I do defy anybody to make the scenes with the shipwrecked lords interesting though. And, as a play, it has some wonderful language in it.

The Birthday Blog

12 April - An eventful day

Information I'm sure no one but me ever wanted, but you get it anyway:

1606 The Union Jack was adopted as the flag of Great Britain

1861 The American Civil War began

1954 Bill Haley and the Comets recorded Rock around the Clock

1961 Yuri Gagarin was the first man in space

Birthdays

Alan Ayckbourn

David Cassidy

Claire Danes

Bryan McFadden

Nicholas Brendon (included because, tho probably most readers won't have heard of him, he was Xander in Buffy, and as you know, I was just a bit obsessed with that series)

Edward de Vere (Earl of Oxford and Shakespearean pretender)

And

Me

Of the above, I’ve seen one (at Istanbul airport, where he had less fans than Griffin), and had lunch with one (in Scarborough)

Not a bad selection, though

Its also the Feast Day of Saint Zeno of Verona (whose church I’ve been to, and was quite bored, as it rained, and I wanted to get into the town and to Juliet’s balcony, which bizarrely links with 3, above, who, of course played Juliet)

And finally...

For today at least. It's the very last Life on Mars tonight. What will happen, what has been going on all this time, will Sam get back to the future, and was he ever really in the past anyway? And what was the creepy test card girl all about?

Whatever happens, it's been a fab series.

Beningbrough

After our shopping we head out to Beningbrough Hall to celebrate my new membership of the National Trust, and to walk.

As we drive in, I can see all the cars. ‘Look, we’re going to have to park miles away!’ ‘Val, we’ve come to walk!’ We change into ‘walking’ shoes. Cat has the proper shoes, I have my non-trainers, which are at least flat, and which I used to use for exercise class.

Avoiding the small children hunting for Easter eggs, we strike unerringly across a field heading for the river, somehow finding the one muddy patch as we cross it. I whimper a little, as I get a streak of mud on my nice white shoes. But we make it to the river bank, the path is dry, and it’s very pretty and peaceful.

As we head towards the village, we cross the bottom of lots of gardens, some with their own landing stages, 'how fab is that?' and then head back up into the village past the pub. It’s closed down since we were last there, so I find myself scrambling over a rusty old gate. We walk back up the village, and past an old vicarage that could be straight out of Pride and Prejudice. It’s idyllic, and makes a country cottage look quite appealing, as long as you could have a place in town as well.

As we head back into the park we realise we have to climb over an electric fence, so I kindly allow Cat to test it first, to see if it’s on. It isn’t. A change of shoes later, and we’re heading for the tea shop, and the house.

Inside, there are lots of portraits of Restoration and Georgian figures, from the National Portrait Gallery, and some huge, and rather oppressive four poster beds. They’ve worked hard to make it interactive, but I’m disappointed to find that what I thought was a dressing up room, turns out to be half a dress so that you can emulate a portrait. I mean, what use is that?!

Finally, we hit the gift shop. There’s a second hand book shop upstairs, and there are quite lot of plays. Of course, I bought some of them. But I didn't bother with the Pinter.

Alternative shoe shopping

‘Shona and I have decided that you need sturdy walking shoes’

Cat announces that she’s going to take me shoe shopping so that I have the right footwear for walking, as I've said I want to do some 'tea shop walks*' on the Moors. I greet this pronouncement with trepidation, and admit that I’m scared of ‘outdoors’ shops. Not quite as scared as I am of PC World, but still scared.

So far, I’ve managed a 5 mile walk, and not actually gone off tarmac (well, apart from the bit where we had to scramble up a bank), so I’ve been wearing my ordinary work shoes with a small heel, but I do agree that I need something a bit more robust, so we decide to hit the shops.

In the first, I’m trying to find a pair I like the look of, and gulping at the cost. ‘It’s not about looks, it’s about not getting a sprained ankle’, I’m told, but it is, because if I don’t like the look of them, I won’t wear them. ‘These are quite pretty, what do they look like?’ I discover that 'outdoors' shops don’t tend to have mirrors so that you can see your feet, but they do have cobbles you can test the shoes on. As I’m not planning to walk on many cobbles, I trot off to look for a mirror. ‘No, too much like trainers, I can’t buy anything that looks like trainers’.

We try about 5 shops, and a finally find a pair I quite like, which aren’t too expensive, and are a nice blue colour. Yes, they feel ok, much like all the others, but prettier. ‘You’ll need proper socks, too’. I discover that you can’t just wear any old socks with such shoes, but need hiking socks (or, as in one shop, 'Adventure Socks'), and they charge about £12.50 for a pair. Some are guaranteed 100% blister free – what do you do if you get a blister? Take a photo and send it to them to complain?

‘Look, you can get a special bag to put your muddy boots in!’ I’m quite excited by this, as said bag is ‘boot shaped’.
‘Or, you could just use a carrier bag!’.

I didn’t buy any shoes. After all, these things need consideration. But I have great admiration for Cat’s tolerance, and for resisting chucking some of the shoes at me.

*All good walks need a tea shop or a pub, possibly both, en route.

A theatre's magic, isn't it?

Spoiler Alert - in case you haven't watched 'The Shakespeare Code' yet

And so, the Doctor met Shakespeare, and possibly for the first time met a human with an intellect to match his own. There were some lovely in jokes, but I have to admit the only one that made me laugh out loud was the allusion that Shakespeare was bi-sexual ’57 academics just punched the air’.

I was waiting for the quotes, you see. It was pretty obvious that the Doctor would give Shakespeare some of his best lines, and some of them felt shoehorned in, in an ‘ooh, aren’t we clever’ way. The bits I liked best were the less obvious references; the Doctor saying that a skull he found backstage looked like a Sycorax; a reference to ‘a winter’s tale and a ‘blasted heath’.

As Martha said, you should never meet your heroes, and certainly Dean Lennox Kelly wasn’t my idea of Shakespeare (I prefer the Joseph Fiennes version, in Shakespeare in Love), but then I have to acknowledge that the target audience here isn’t the Shakespeare snob*, but families, including all those kids who perceive Shakespeare as boring. Hence the Harry Potter references (but I did love the comment about Book 7). But why, oh why, with the whole works of the Bard at your disposal, did the final word that rid the world of the carrionites have to come from JK Rowling?

Bits I loved, DT pacing around the Globe Theatre, the bedroom scene, Love’s Labours Won (though, from the snippets we heard, it wasn’t one of his best!!), the theatrical jokes.

Things I wanted – more of Shakespeare’s actual words, DT to stand on that stage and speak them, Martha to actually snog Shakespeare – well, you wouldn’t wouldn’t you, just to say you’d done it?!

*Which I am, I freely admit it

What's the Buzz?

What’s so good about ‘Good Friday’? It’s always puzzled me. If it’s the day that Jesus was crucified, why ‘good’? These days it’s ‘good’ because it’s the first real holiday of the year, and the trigger for everything to open up again for the new season. As someone said on the radio, ‘season of traffic jams and tailbacks’.

When I was young, it was quite a different day to now. All the shops were shut, and it tended to be a day for my mum to decide that, as I was at home, it was time to turn out the cupboard under the stairs. An epic task, as it was huge, full of toys, magazines, bits of material, and even an old tin bath! We had to haul everything out into the living room, which brought with it the hazard of me reading all the comics and magazines, before deciding if I could bear to throw them away. Mostly, I couldn’t.

My own personal tradition, which I guess started sometime after I saw the film for the first time, was to play the entire soundtrack of JCS as my concession to Easter. My mum insisted that you should go to church at least at Christmas and Easter, if at no other time, and, as I wouldn’t even go then, instead I would listen to JCS (often while cleaning out that flippin’ cupboard).

I guess the culmination of this was two years ago, when I didn’t just play the soundtrack, I actually went to see the show on Good Friday. Since that production closed in August 2005, I haven’t really been able to listen to the soundtrack, because the people on it aren’t ‘our’ boys, and the intonations are therefore ‘wrong’. I didn’t want to destroy the spell of memory. But this year, finally, I decided to play it again, and it was ok, but it made me sad to realise that I’m not hearing other voices in my head any more, they’ve faded. And so, for old times sake, and as a bit of personal indulgence, a picture. After all, I’ve been very restrained since starting this blog. There they all are, bar one cute little Aussie, it must have been a night he was off.

Welcome aboard Miss Jones

I admit it, I had to watch the first episode twice to decide what I thought of it. Overall, I enjoyed it, but I didn't think it was up there with great ones. It had the usual problems of a series opener, it needed to have lots of action to keep the attention, and, this time, it had to introduce Martha Jones. At the moment, I'm reserving judgement, but she's intelligent and feisty, and not phased by rhino headed aliens, which is all good*.

One problem I had was that I didn't think that the threat was much of a threat (I know the magnetism thingy was going to kill half the planet, but I don't think any of us believed that did we?), but then this episode wasn't really about that, it was about the Doctor and Martha, so it was the scenes between the two of them that were the core of the episode. It was a bit like a very strange job interview, as he was testing her reaction to the events.

Then it came to the 'temptation' scene (above) - who could resist a man with a tardis and a sonic screwdriver? And that final five minutes was just lovely.

Next week, Shakespeare at the Globe Theatre - I am just a tiny bit excited.

One question though - who is Mr Saxon? Is he this year's Bad Wolf/Torchwood**?

*though Corinne would have been a better choice

**ok, technically, that's two questions!