Because I'm just a tiny bit obsessed...

I have to post this link. Courtesy of heat.com.

Gethin's Saturday Night Moves*

I guess just I might have to buy this week's copy!

*I'm not clever, and don't know how to put a video directly in a post, therefore, you get a link. Aren't I good, you don't even have to look at it.

'I've never seen anything like it in my life'

It started as a bit of a catalogue of disasters – we were about halfway to Sunderland when Cat said, ‘I haven’t got the tickets’, and unfortunately she wasn’t joking. Hmmm, what to do? We had a restaurant reservation for 6pm, and would be very late if we went back. Guided by the fact that I was hungry, and our faith in the generosity* of the Mak’ems**, we continued. We arrived at the junction.

‘Is it the first or the second turning?’
‘I don’t know…’ Cat’s normally infallible sense of direction had failed her in light of the ticket dilemma..

I decided to take the first turning. Pretty soon I realised it was wrong, and managed to get lost going in to Sunderland, which we’ve never done before. When we arrived at the car park, it said ‘full’. Deciding it was fibbing to us, I drove in, and managed to find a parking space.

We checked in at the restaurant, and dashed over to the theatre, having retrieved the text message on my phone which said which row we were in, at least. We didn’t need it. There was no problem at all, and they just printed us duplicates.

We enjoyed our meal, and headed over to the theatre to see Dr Dolittle. It’s a touring production, starring Tommy Steele. There were a lot of kids in the audience.

It was quite a bizarre production. It wasn’t the theatrical low point of the year, that ‘privilege’ being shared, for different reasons, by the show at the Barbican, and Jack and the Beanstalk in Cardiff, the best we could say was ‘it wasn’t awful’.

Tommy Steele entered, brown of face, and white of teeth (I think you’d have needed sunglasses for the glare if you were in the first few rows), to a round of applause. But not from me. The theatre snob in me won’t applaud someone just for walking on stage. His performance was pretty understated, along with his voice, and the suggested love relationship with the leading lady, who had a belter of a voice, was frankly a bit freaky, given the 40+ year age difference between them. There was a very short girl playing a boy, there were lots of animals, and some very politically incorrect natives, to say nothing of the Great Pink Sea Snail.

Afterwards, we decided to head straight to the pub, as it was freezing cold, and to be honest, we were struggling for comments. ‘Colourful’ and ‘energetic’ being our best efforts. However, they weren’t needed, as none of the cast appeared. Which may actually have been a bit of a blessing.

*For it was in Sunderland that we once would have had to stay the night in the Travelodge, after my car got locked in the car park following a very late night in the pub, if the nice woman on reception hadn’t helped us out.

**I have no idea if that’s how you spell it?

Yo!

‘Is it your first time?’

V and I smile a little nervously, as our server introduces himself as Richard, and explains very patiently how things work. Apparently we can order from the menu for hot food, or select from the conveyor belt. Very helpfully there are pictures of all the dishes, and the dishes are colour coded according to price. There’s fresh still or sparkling water from a little tap set into the table, and a dish of pickled ginger to cleanse the palate.

It’s all initially a bit overwhelming, for we are in Yo! Sushi for the first time, (it’s actually in Fenwick’s Food Hall). I’ve never really fancied sushi before, all those clumps of rice with little bits of fish, wrapped in seaweed, but these dishes look rather nice.

We select a couple of hot dishes, and then decide to take one each off the conveyor belt. V’s crayfish salad is relatively straight forward. I have decided, however, that I’d like the little veggie parcels that have just gone past, and it takes a while for them to come round again. As I’m not known for my patience, I almost give up and choose something else, but I do decide to wait.

Richard, who, according to his name badge, is now Rachel, returns with one of the hot dishes, and asks how we are getting on. The food is delicious, but it’s also a fun experience, so it’s getting the thumbs up from us.

We decide that this is our ‘starter’ for dinner. It turns out later that it’s a good job we had it, as it takes the best part of an hour to cross the Tyne Bridge, park, walk back over the Millennium Bridge (don’t ask, it seemed like the best idea at the time!) and find the restaurant that we’ve chosen. But find it we do, and have a delicious curry to finish off the day.

The Slippery Slope

A few weeks ago, I blogged about Strictly. I think it’s fair to say that this series has been controversial so far, and it’s been just about impossible to predict from week to week who will go, with some of the poorer dancers surviving on the basis of the public vote. I think that letting the judges decide who to save based on a ‘dance off’ has actually had the effect that wasn’t wanted, in that some people are voting to keep people out of the bottom two. It’s the ‘sympathy vote’ gone mad. I really don’t know who is voting for Kate Garraway though. I think Arlene’s comment yesterday said it all, ‘bored now’!

All of which is by way of introduction to the fact that I have identified my favourite over the last few weeks. And once you have a favourite, you begin to care, and as we know, that’s the dangerous stage.

I picked out Gethin Jones* as having the ‘cute’ factor from the start, but he didn’t really strike me as having the potential to go beyond a few weeks until his foxtrot. Suddenly, he was transformed. His Viennese waltz last week was beautiful, and he got 36, a fantastic score. I had no worries, as he was top of the leader board, with others.

This week, as soon as I discovered it was the rumba, I began to worry. It’s a notoriously difficult dance, a slow Latin, needing the hip action he’s been criticised as lacking. There’s also not that much for the man to do, and from what I can remember even gorgeous Mark Ramprakash wasn’t great at it.

I actually thought he did really well, but it wasn’t ‘showy’, and his marks were probably fair. He was in the middle of the leader board, always the most dangerous place, and pretty much what I’d expected (well, he was never going to be bottom with the likes of Kate and Kenny still in!).

I did the only thing I could do. I picked up the phone and voted. I hope it’s helped, as I don’t know the results yet!

*I think I may have to start watching Blue Peter – they seem to like taking his shirt off.

Tha Handbag Walks Part 10

In the above shadow pic, yes, I'm the one with the handbag!

It’s not that we haven’t been walking, it’s just that we’ve all been really busy, so they’ve been short walks (usually to shops, it has to be said). So this week, the plan was to actually go out of town, and breathe some country air again. What I’d forgotten is that the days are much shorter now, so setting off in the afternoon doesn’t give you a lot of time before it starts to grow dusk!

We’d only planned a short walk anyway, by the side of the Pocklington canal. It was all pretty overgrown, and the land round there is very flat, so it wasn’t the most scenic of walks, but it was pleasant.

A short distance into the walk, my mobile went. We might be out in the wilds of the East Riding, but was still the land of the mobile phone. It was work. ‘Are you listening to The Archers*? I can hear country sounds’. I explained that no, it wasn’t the radio, it was the actual country – now with added country yokel sounds from my friends. ‘Are you all wearing Barbours?’ ‘No, it’s pashminas and handbags!’

As we walked back, the light started to fade. Only one thing for it. It was time for the tea shop, and the shops of Pocklington. And a new plan. In winter when it’s too cold/wet/muddy to walk in the country, we can walk round the market towns of Yorkshire. Don't you just know that it's going to turn into more shopping!

*I’m setting aside the fact that the Chief Exec thinks I’m the sort of person who does listen to The Archers!

Incommunicado

I did it again! I was on the A1 heading south on Monday morning, when I realised that the mobile phone was still on the bed. I was facing nearly 4 days without a phone!

It was quite a scary prospect. It's bizarre how, having lived most of my life without a mobile, it now feels essential. But then, it isn't just a phone, is it? It's a calendar, an alarm clock (I was worried I wouldn't wake on time, and would be late for meetings), a calculator, a camera (not that I was going to need that at work), and a way of accessing the internet.

I really felt quite lost without it, particularly when plans changed, and I discovered that it is really difficult to find a pay phone these days - in fact in many places they're non-existant. Phones just aren't provided in budget hotel rooms either, as everyone has their own.

As it turned out, I was able to come home last night. I got back to find it where I left it. I thought there'd be quite a few missed calls and some texts. I picked it up. Just two missed calls, both from unknown numbers.

I'd never felt so popular!

The dress and the bar

‘The dress’ came first. I saw it on Saturday, on a shopping trip that was my last gasp before I retired into the house for three days to wallow in my misery (I’ve had a cold!).

I loved it when I saw it on the rail. I knew it might be a mistake to try it on, as I really had no justification for buying it. It’s just that bit too dressy for the Christmas ‘do’s’ I’m going to. I tried it on. I loved it even more. I felt like I’d wandered in from a Regency novel – well, in my head at least. My friend’s verdict - ‘It’s very ‘you’’

Common sense prevailed and I reluctantly left it in the shop. But of course once you’ve fallen in love with a dress, nothing else quite comes close. I eventually bought a lacy jacket, but I’m not sure if I’ll keep it.

‘The dress’ has lingered in my mind all week. Then, last night, I discovered the perfect venue for it. We were trawling Lark Lane in Liverpool to find somewhere for tea.

All types of cuisine are there, but I parked opposite ‘Negresco’. The outside décor is all black, and inside I could see black, and red, and mirrors and chandeliers. It looked supremely Gothic. We looked at the menu. The prices weren’t too bad, so we went in.

Inside was even better; the walls were painted with ‘fin de siecle’ mask wearing figures, there was a huge candelabra with large candles dripping wax in one corner, and various masks were on display. The food was also fabulous. We had tapas, and it was different, and delicious. As I sat there, sadly without the glass of champagne that the setting deserved, as I was going on to a meeting, I so needed to be wearing ‘the dress’. I felt I’d found its true home.

The barman offered to show us the private dining rooms. I immediately wanted to hire one for a private party. In costume, obviously! It’s all the realms of fantasy of course, but I just can’t help being a drama queen.

'I to the world am like a drop of water, that in the ocean seeks to find another drop...'

When I saw that the RSC production of Comedy of Errors was touring to Bradford, I was in two minds about going. A couple of years ago I was a bit ‘Comedied’ out, have seen it about 3 times in 12 months. It’s not a play that can stand too much repeated viewing in a short period unless it’s a very good production.

But, they sent me the flier, it wasn’t out of my way, and Corinne is still working towards her theatrical quota for the year, so I found myself booking. How glad I was that I did. I was recently reviewing my list of productions that I’ve seen this year (hey, I’m a theatre snob, it’s what I do). There were plenty productions that I’d really enjoyed, but none with the ‘wow’ factor. Now there is.

Nancy Meckler’s production has been revived from two years ago to tour, with a new cast, but most of them have already been working together as an ensemble in an acclaimed production of Twelfth Night*. It showed, as every part, down to the smallest supporting role, had a real character.

It was also incredibly inventive and slick. The characters were cartoonish, and slightly grotesque in their appearance. It was as though Antipholus and Dromio had wandered into a nightmarish world which was swirling crazily around them. The production had real pace and energy. I loved the use of puppets at the beginning to act out Aegeon’s long (and to be honest, usually pretty boring) tale of how the children were separated.

It was interesting to see the two Antipholuses (Antipholi?) played by real life brothers Jason and Simon Merrells, though they could have actually looked more alike if they had had the same coloured hair. Chris New** and Iain McKee were excellent as the Dromios.

What was disappointing was the half empty theatre, which seemed to create a great gulf between the actors and the audience. It was a production that I felt needed to wrap its audience around it, to almost draw us into the bizarre world that it created, and at times it seemed a bit lost on a pros arch stage. There were times when I felt the actors were having to work really hard for a response. It was better in Act 2, as some people had been moved from elsewhere in the theatre which changed the atmosphere.

I was utterly surprised to find myself with tears in my eyes at the end as the four brothers circled, looking at each other with a sense of wonder.

I do rather love the RSC when they’re on form.

*which I really wanted to see, but didn’t get round to.
**one to watch out for I think

Is it wrong to have traditions after 3 visits?

I was in Bradford last night. For the first time since Good Friday 2005, when we memorably sat in the Love Apple and wrote a ‘Happy Easter’ card for Jesus*. I got lost on my way in, and couldn’t find the car park**. I guess you could say I don’t go there a lot, and I’m clearly very transparent, as when I mentioned at work that I was off to Bradford, my boss immediately asked ‘are you going to the Alhambra?’ The city centre looked as unfinished as it had over two years ago.

Infrequent as my visits are, there are traditions to be followed. The Love Apple is the pre-theatre venue of choice, although it was sadly lacking in actors last night, and could only offer members of a band setting up for a Halloween gig. There was a bit of high pitched squealing though, as Corinne and I bonded over a Stephen Fry book on poetry while eating the hummus.

Post show, we headed to the Sir Titus Salt. Yes, it is a Wetherspoon’s, but it’s a Wetherspoon’s in a converted swimming baths, and also has memories. Of actors, who also weren’t very impressed with Bradford, Last night it also had a rowdy crowd from the University of Bradford (‘has Bradford even got a university?’) but thankfully they moved on, so we were generally able to discuss the production in peace.

As for Comedy of Errors, well, that was so good it’s a whole separate post.

*As in JCS, We're really not that odd.

**I also got lost on the way out, and began to despair of ever finding my way back onto the M62