Confessions of a Theatre Snob

Saturday, December 31, 2011

In which I admit I don't like Roald Dahl

As is the way of things, Corinne and I are sitting in a pub in York, talking about theatre productions we've seen recently (in her case, the Donmar Richard II, and in mine A Christmas Carol, performed in a room of the pub we happen to be in).

We also talk about things we'd like to see. Henry V next year at the Globe, Timon of Athens at the National for her (ticking another play off the 'list'). For me, Jerusalem, despite my long standing issues with Mark Rylance.

'And there's also 'Matilda'. It's had fabulous reviews, and everyone who I know who's seen it has raved about it. But, it's full of children, and it's Roald Dahl. I really don't like Roald Dahl, I find his stories quite grotesque'.

I also point out that he came along too late for me, but then I know that the child 'me' would have wanted faries and princesses, not his rather bizarre take on the world.

'Ok, so possibly not the best choice for you then'.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Dodgy accents, cross dressing, and big frocks

1895, Thor Bridge, Hampshire, the night of the full moon. A gunshot, a locked door, and behind it a woman lay dead. Only the famous detective, Sherlock Holmes, could help to identify the murderer.

There was the American mining millionaire and his estranged daughter. His Brazilian second wife had been murdered, could one of them be the culprit?

There was the South African Miner, what was the connection between these two?

There was the brother of the murdered woman. He’d just arrived from Brazil, and now his sister is dead. Suspicious!

There was the Hungarian Countess, dark, and mysterious. Did she know something about the murder?

There was the governess, living in the house, did she know more of its secrets than she was telling?

There was her best friend, did she have an ulterior motive for visiting at that time?

I’m not telling who did it, but we had fun finding out. For the record, two people correctly identified the murderer.

And, for once, no one got drunk.

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At least this year we weren't knee deep in snow

Last weekend was the Robin Hood’s Bay Victorian Weekend. J and I went two years ago, when I had so much fun that I hatched a plan to hire a cottage, and go for the whole weekend last year. And then the snow came, so we had to cancel, and hold the Victorian Murder Mystery Party at my house, and only wear half of the costumes that I’d planned to wear.

So this year, there were particular things that I wanted to wear; a beautiful black and white dress from an Opera North production, and a violet coat. I also had a skirt bought in the Costume Hire sale, my own blouse, and a hired hat. As Dean also had costumes, and I had costumes for Cat, you could say that my car was rather loaded up.

Having dropped off all the evening wear in Pickering, we headed over the moors, to meet Cat. Thankfully the weather was cold, but bright and sunny. +6 degrees is vastly different to -12 last year.

Meeting Cat in the car park, we headed into the village hall to get ready. It was as I walked across the car park, and ended up chasing my hat, I realised I’d left the hat pins in Pickering. On all the pictures, I’m hanging on to it, so that it doesn’t blow into the sea.

After a quick old time dance lesson, we were joined by K and V, and headed down the hill into the village to find lunch. We quickly realised that it wasn’t very busy. There were a few people in costume, and others who were just looking, but it was much quieter than two years ago. I think the weather last year must have put a lot of people off, both visitors and traders.

As there was a group of us, we quickly drew a crowd of photographers, and at times it was like having the paparazzi around us. At one point as we stood on the jetty (admittedly, a rather fabulous setting) we had drawn quite a crowd, and at this point we were joined by J and P, also in full Victorian costume. As I’m sure you’ll realise, I hated it – though, having seen some of the results, I really need to make sure that I pose!

There was also a Tombola down by the Dock. Oh, the excitement - and I broke my recent run of bad luck by winning four prizes!*


We called into one of the pubs to listen to a Victorian geologist talking about his discoveries, and stopped off again for mulled wine. It was rather quiet, so there weren’t that many other people in costume to interact with, but it was still great fun, and I loved just being able to walk around in full costume – though I think, another year, the skirt would easily take a crinoline underneath it.

*Which is, frankly, the point. I don’t mind what I win, and I’m happy to give the prizes away. It’s the winning of them that counts.

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Tuesday, December 06, 2011

Wherein I learn more than I ever knew about wig dressing

‘What do you mean you don’t know how to pin curl?!’ Dean sounds slightly aghast.

'Well, I don’t!'

A week or so ago, I bought a pretty cheap, and frankly rather chavvy, hair piece from a shop in Hull, more in hope than in expectation that I’d actually be able to wear it. It’s a pony tail, highlighted in brown and blonde, the closest that I could find to my un-natural hair colour. Taking it out of the box, I realised I didn’t have the first idea how to fasten it in to my own hair, which, though longer than in previous years, is still fairly short and layered. I set it aside, and planned on wearing my full wig, in something approaching a Victorian style.

On Friday evening, we’re having a trial run, of costume, accessories, jewels, and, of course, hair. Fuelled by wine, Dean starts twisting my hair into pin curls, prior to attaching the hair piece, clipping it towards the top of my head.

I stand up and look in the mirror. I have a long, straight pony tail hanging from the top of my head*.‘Oh my God, you’ve turned me into Sandy from Grease’. Dean says I look like a bar maid from Corrie.

I ask him to fix it lower, and he re-applies it towards the nape of the neck. It’s amazing. It might be cheap, but, from a distance, it could be my hair. I’m just wishing I’d had it like this a few weeks ago for the play. The fact that this can be done with my hair is a revelation.
I also ask him to dress my full wig, which I’m going to wear for the evening murder mystery, which he does. It’s also not dissimilar to my own hair, and he creates a partly ‘up’ style, with a few trailing ringlets. Perfect. What a star.

*No, you don’t get a photo. I have my standards.

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