Because, like so many others, I can’t let the moment go by without comment…

There it was, on screen, the long awaited reunion of the Doctor and Rose…running towards each other down a long street*, when that pesky dalek emerged.

I was convinced it was Rose who was a gonner, and I believe I gasped when it hit the Doctor**.

At the moment, I’m holding the faith with RTD. I firmly believe that if it was the end, then it wouldn’t (couldn't!) have been in such a minor key. I know I didn’t trust him on Billie Piper, or on Catherine Tate***, but I do believe.

Really, I do.

*really, just how long was that street!
** Is it just me, or don’t daleks usually have a tendency to speak before they fire? – for once, that sneaky little dalek fired first!
*** Yes, I know!

And we started so well

We started to do the Grand Tour because I’d missed a text from V earlier in the week about going out of town to do a longer walk. And, by doing a walk in town, J could also join us.

I arrived at V’s to the comment, ‘you look more like you’re going shopping than walking’, as, once I knew we weren’t heading for wet grass and mud, I wore my heels and suit.

We started to doing the walk in reverse, with the last pictures on the list. We should have known how it would go when, arriving at the Castle Museum, I declared that I had to look in the gift shop*.

After that, it went well for a time, as we followed the route past the Coppergate Centre, across to the Merchant Adventurer’s Hall, and up the Shambles. We had another stutter when V had to go into Marks and Spencer. At this point, J left us, as she had to go to work, and we wandered into St Sampson’s Square, where the nice people from The Big City Read 2008 were giving out free copies of The Railway Children.

Having deviated, we headed back to Grape Lane, and saw another couple of pictures. It was at this point that we really did get distracted, as V was looking for shoes, and there are quite a few shoe shops around there. There were also quite a lot of shops with sales on!

By this point we were getting very hungry, but I wanted to go to Hobbs’s sale before lunch. I think it was when I was trying on my third jacket that I realised that the walk had become shopping.

After lunch it had begun to rain. ‘Well, we can’t go and look at pictures in this’. Neither of us said anything about the fact that we were also carrying a number of shopping bags by now!

Our final port of call was Fenwick’s, where we stopped for a drink, and realised that it was getting on for 5 o’clock. Just where had the day gone?

As we walked by to J’s, where I’d parked the car, we went to see one last picture. I think the photo says it all really, and sums up a successful handbag walk. And, after all, we left some pictures to see later.

*which, by the way, is excellent

An explanation

‘What’s a superlambanana?’

The question has cropped up twice in the last couple of days.

It’s quite difficult to explain, if you haven’t seen the Superlambanana*. Try describing it, and you can practically see the minds boggling.

The original is supposedly both a comment on Liverpool’s trading history, and also on GM foods. It’s a piece of modern art that I like the whimsy of, so I was interested to see on Breakfast News the other week that there are now a whole flock of baby lambananas all across the city of Liverpool.

Like the Grand Tour in York, there’s a trail you can follow. So it was that as I turned left in front of St George’s Hall last night, I squealed a little when I saw two of them opposite the Empire Theatre.

*He even has his own website, how fab is that?

If only things were this easy

I pride myself at being rather good at geography*. But when it comes to the Home Counties, I’m a bit at sea. To me ‘Hertfordshire’ has always been more ‘Pride and Prejudice’ than a real place, so when it comes at looking at the map, it’s still a bit of a mystery.

In the middle of a meeting, I find myself pointing at the map on the wall (and potentially offending all the indigenous population in the room) in an accusing manner.

‘Where’s Rickmansworth?’ It’s pointed out to me, sitting firmly on, what seems to me, to be the wrong side of the M25.

‘Well, it’s in the wrong place!’

‘I’m sure they’ll move it, Val, just for you.’

*I like to read maps, anyway

I do pay a bit more attention in a gallery

If you know me, you probably know that I’m not very observant (I’d blame it on being short sighted, though that doesn’t really work as I’m usually wearing my glasses).

It was about a week ago J asked, ‘Have you seen the paintings?’
‘What paintings?’ I mumbled, wondering what on earth she was talking about, and the conversation moved on.

It was only yesterday, when I saw a copy of Van Gogh’s 'Sunflowers' in St Helen’s Square, that I actually clocked the Grand Tour in York. Before then, I’d been walking past them, oblivious.

Then, last night, as we left the theatre, we came across two on Bootham Bar. Holbein’s ‘The Ambassadors’ seemed particularly appropriate, as we’d just seen ‘A Man for All Seasons’. Today, they seem to be everywhere I look. You can even do a walking tour – I think I see a handbag walk coming on.

Aspects of an audience

I’ve wanted to revisit Aspects of Love ever since I saw it was to tour again. I initially saw it in the early 90’s, and loved it, but it’s never been one of the more popular Lloyd Webber musicals, despite the popularity of its anthem, Love Changes Everything.

It’s strange how you get used to going to the theatre with other ‘theatre enthusiasts’ (I hesitate to say ‘snobs’ here, but I know that some of us are). But this time I’ve persuaded a couple of work colleagues to come along, on my recommendation. It’s actually quite daunting to go and see a show with people who you know go very infrequently, and whose highest accolade is ‘gosh, they were good, they could be in Corrie’. They see things very differently.

Still, we’re nicely loosened up with good meal and a shared bottle of wine, and we stroll down to the theatre. I’d forgotten how huge it is, as my memories are coloured by sitting on the front row one New Year’s Day. I’d booked row K, knowing that the others wouldn’t want to go for the more expensive tickets, and thinking that was pretty close, but when I sit down, it feels too far away for me.

Reading the programme, I see a few familiar names. Tim Rogers, who was in Whistle when we saw it a couple of years ago, Duncan Patrick, who I last saw in a log cabin in Leicestershire, and a couple of people who’ve played at York. There’s also Shona Lindsay, who’s done quite a lot in the West End, and headlined a number of touring shows. But when I was asked earlier ‘who’s in it?’ I gave my standard reply ‘no one you’d know’.

When the show begins, the first thing that impresses me is the set. I’m unsure of Tim Rogers’s vocals in Love Changes Everything, and a lot of the action feels too compressed to get through the span of time (and all the combinations of couples, as basically pretty much everyone sleeps with everyone else).

About halfway through Act 1, however, it pulls me in. Although he failed to convince as a 17 year old, Rogers is much better as the older Alex, Lindsay is impressive with a strong and clear voice, and James Graeme brings a richness and humour to George. By the interval, I’m engrossed, and when I look to my right, J is emotionally distraught, ‘I didn’t expect it to be like this’. ‘Just you wait for Act 2’. Time for more wine!

By Act 2, I’m realising how different this production is to the earlier one. All the characters are quite destructive in their relationships. As the song goes, love does change everything, and not only for the best. I see that Alex is actually a bit of a b*****d, something I never realised last time. Rose (Lindsay) breaks me with her rendition of ‘Anything but Lonely’ and C now has two snivelling colleagues around her, while she remains dry eyed, (‘it takes more than that to make me cry!’).

After the show ends, I manage to the resist the stage door (well, it is raining), and with more difficulty, the lure of the rather brilliant Ma E’s. We sit in the hotel bar with yet more wine, and I want to talk about the performances, and the production. I start to talk, I know I’m starting to wave my hands around.

The other two are more interested in what has happened in the final of The Apprentice.

A conversation

(Somewhere during the bit where we were drinking tea while I pondered whether to buy the dress)

‘I watched Doctor Who on Saturday’
‘What did you think?’
‘Fabulous’

The conversation progresses covering the wonders of Steven Moffat’s writing, this particular episode, which seemed tailored for an adult audience, and at what point we started to cry. And of course what a wonderful actor DT is.

‘I really like her (Donna) you know’
‘Me too*, I like their relationship, and the way that she speaks to him’

‘She reminds me of the way you speak to men’

There’s a slight pause, as I consider this.

‘Yes…me too’

*I admit it, I had serious doubts about Catherine Tate

What was I saying about mud?

You might have noticed that the weather’s been a bit ‘variable’ this week. Good old June, as soon as we reach what should be the start of summer, it gets very unsettled.

Last year, a hint of rain would have stopped us walking, this year we’re much more hardened individuals, so on Sunday we set off for a walk round Cawood*, despite the fact that it had been raining, and looked like it would do again.

We hadn’t been walking for long when we reached the riverside, and a rather overgrown path, through very long grass. Very wet long grass. As I was leading, I was the first to hit all the undergrowth still holding the rain, which it deposited onto the front of my trousers. I was soon complaining, and asking someone else to take the lead. Soon everyone was very wet, and as we were walking along the edge of a field, we also picked up a lot of mud on our boots. It was starting to feel a bit too serious to be a handbag walk!

As this was at the beginning of the walk, we had to continue and dry off as we walked (and for once there wasn’t a mid-route coffee shop in sight!). It’s an interesting area, but sadly little remains of the castle that was once the ‘Windsor of the north’, so we had to imagine Cardinal Wolsey popping down to his fish ponds for a fresh trout.

As for us, well, at the end we piled into lovely little Ferry Inn to dry off. I got my boots out again today for another walk – they still hadn’t completely dried out!

*The walk is called the Wolsey walk, after Cardinal Wolsey who was arrested at Cawood Castle. There's also a theory that this is where the nursery rhyme Humpty Dumpty comes from.

Handbag Walking 2008, or two get lost on Skipwith Common

The handbag walking is still going well – we’re managing a walk pretty much every weekend. In the hectic milieu of last weekend, J and I managed to fit in a walk around Skipwith Common. We didn’t start the walk where the book told us to, choosing instead to start in the village (i.e. nearer to the pub), and that’s where the problems began.

To start with, Skipwith Common is pretty big. And it has lots of paths, that all look the same. And as usual we were talking a lot. All of this was a recipe for missing our turning, which we only realised when we reached ‘a crossing’ which was nothing like the description in the book. We turned down it anyway in an attempt to get our bearings. By this time, I was starting to wonder if I’d make it to Manchester that night, as I could still be walking over the Common.

As we emerged at the edge of the Common, we still couldn’t see any landmarks that would tell us where we were. We were mulling over what to do, probably looking a bit lost, when we were approached by a naturalist (yes, I did say naturalist) with a very long camera lens, who gave us directions back to the village, and told us to look out for slow worms(!). It did sound like we’d walked an awful lot further than we’d intended.

As we headed off, we both admitted that we hadn’t really listened to the directions, which had basically been to ‘follow the runway’*. Eventually we took a right turning, and realised that we were back on the path that we’d walked down. Some time later, we reached a crossing, and realised that this was the one we should have taken. Following the instructions to ‘delve into the trees’, we were very relieved to see the church across the fields and to follow the path back to the car.

*bizarrely, this bit of common ground must have been a wartime airfield, and there are still bits of tarmac in the middle of the wood.

All over bar the shouting

And wailing and gnashing of teeth, and that’s just ALW and Cameron Macintosh. We have our Nancy, and it’s … Jodie! A bit of a surprise that one, given the concerted effort during the course of the final to ensure that the part went to Jessie.

None of the final three were my favourites, but then I’ve struggled to see anyone, apart from perhaps Rachel, as Nancy. They’ve continually been at pains to remind the voting public that ‘it’s a casting competition, not a singing competition’, and yet have almost totally focussed on the performances on the night, with any glimpses of acting being shown in the pre-recorded results show.

But, of the final three, Jodie was the only one I could see as Nancy, and it seemed that the Great British Public agreed. The young girls just didn’t seem to have the experience for the role. Samantha has always seemed very bland to me, and after a few weeks I really tired of Jessie. I can do a better cockney accent than she can, and I’m terrible at accents.

There was a lot of discussion about re-defining the role, and playing Dickens’s Nancy, but that’s not what they were casting, it was Lionel Bart’s Nancy. The musical is very far removed from the book, which is much darker in tone.

In the end, the attempted manipulation backfired, and Jodie won. I was thrilled to see a shot of John B and DVO hugging, as she’d been their choice, and rather disgusted with the lukewarm responses of both ALW and Cam Mac (whose ‘I’m thrilled…for Jodie’ was like a kick in the teeth for the poor girl).

This result does make me wonder whether they’ll do it again* though.

*there has been a rumour that the next search will be for Jesus for JCS. Whilst I would always have mixed views about that, it might be worth it for the potential for Jesus jokes**, and for Graham saying to them all, ‘you could be Jesus’.

**Don’t start me, really, don’t!