Confessions of a Theatre Snob

In which I admit I don't like Roald Dahl

2011-12-31T18:45:00.002Z

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'.

Dodgy accents, cross dressing, and big frocks

2011-12-11T20:39:00.004Z

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.

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

2011-12-11T16:59:00.006Z

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.

Wherein I learn more than I ever knew about wig dressing

2011-12-06T22:49:00.003Z

‘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.

Eight years on

2011-11-20T14:32:00.004Z

Corinne and I are sitting in a pub in Lamb’s Conduit Street. She has a glass of wine, but for once, I’m on the lime and soda. We’re waxing a little nostalgic, as I’m describing a recent Griffin gig that I went to (of which no more need be said, other than some things don’t change).

As we sit there, we realise that it’s an important anniversary week.

‘It’s eight years, you know’

‘In some ways it doesn’t seem long, but then in ways it feels longer’

And she’s right. It’s had to believe that it’s been eight years since we met, but then so much has happened, so many things have changed. People have moved away, physically, and in terms of the amount of contact that we have with each other. One person isn’t here any more, and we can’t lose sight of the fact that it’s also the anniversary of loosing her.

But it’s time to raise a glass - of wine, of course, and possibly with a side order of chips – wherever you are, what ever you may be doing, here's to the Northern Division.

To Freedom's Cause Revisited

2011-11-20T13:21:00.002Z

Two years ago, I was in a play. You might remember it as the ‘Suffragette Play’, about Emily Wilding Davison, which we performed at Bolton Castle, and at Akebar Park in Wensleydale. Well this week, we performed the same play as a rehearsed reading at RADA.

Yes, that’s Royal Academy of Dramatic Art ‘RADA’! You can imagine how thrilled I was when K asked me if I would be involved in the production. As it was to be a rehearsed reading, we only had a small amount of rehearsal time, with a read through a couple of weeks ago in Yorkshire, and then the first meeting of the whole cast last Saturday at RADA (yup, I’m not going to get tired of typing that anytime soon).

I went down to London on Friday, so was also able to fit in seeing a show on Friday night (I’m never one to waste an evening in London), but then on Saturday we had a read through of the whole play, and then spent a lot of the time blocking the scenes. There were three of us who had been in the last production, and the rest of the cast were new, but it seemed to come together quickly, so that we were also able to run some of the scenes before I had to head for the train home.

I had one day at work, and then was back on the train to London on Tuesday, for the performance was Tuesday evening. I’d realised on Saturday the problems of performing in London, where no one has a car. Very sensible most of the time, but not when you have to carry costumes and props across the city. So there we were on Tuesday afternoon, with suitcases, a laundry basket, a broom handle and suffragette banner, on the Tube.
Our performance space was the café/bar, which was fine, apart from the fact that it was full of customers, who didn’t look like they were going to leave, so we never managed to run any of the scenes in the space before the performance.
We went up at 7, and from about 6.30 the space began to fill up. My character is on a lot at the start of the play, and then has a bit of a rest until after the interval, so I have a lot of dashing about, and some quick changes. The second scene, where it’s 1951 and I’m visiting Emily’s grave (which apparently my character did for as long as she could), seemed to go better than ever, and it was interesting to work with a different actor, as the scene felt entirely different, and I felt I got a lot more emotion out of it. Straight after that I remained on stage for a scene between my character, Mary, and Emily, and then it was the Strangeways prison scene which is one of the big scenes involving most of the cast, and this seemed to go well, despite us having scripts in hand, with the forced feeding section being particularly effective (and gruesome).

The scenes with Emily and her mother were also effective, as we had a strong actress playing the mother, who brought a warmth to the character, which I hadn’t felt was there in the earlier production.

In Act 2, my first scene is as ‘Shirley’, 1950’s barmaid, and it’s still my favourite. Working with a different actor as ‘Herbert’ really changed how the scene felt. The final scene, which takes place just before Emily’s trip to the Derby, felt emotional and moving as my character felt rejected by Emily’s unwillingness to share her plans.
The audience response was good, and it was lovely to revisit the play. It wasn’t without sadness, however, as one of the main players from the earlier performances is no longer with us, and it was difficult at first to hear ‘her’ lines spoken by someone else.

At the end, I headed straight to the bar, and was next seen clutching a large glass of wine. I think someone mentioned typecasting!

War Weekend

2011-10-16T16:30:00.007+01:00

‘We need to go and look for snoods. Now that’s not something you hear us say every day!’

We’re well into the afternoon of our second Pickering War Weekend, and I’m into my second outfit of the day, the first having been great, but far too hot for the unseasonably hot weather. Last year, there had been a distinct nip in the air, and I’d been very grateful for my wool dress and jacket and fox fur, which I ended up loaning to J when she was frozen.

This year, as my main outfit, I’d selected a burgundy dress and coat from Costume Hire, topped with an even more dramatic fox fur, brown felt hat, and the same shoes as last year. It looks great, but I am sweltering. I try to adapt by taking off the coat, but then I’m lumbered with carrying it.
We’d caught the tail end of the parade of war time vehicles earlier, and hit a sea of people as we tried to move from the railway station and up the main street. I’ve never seem Pickering so busy. I’m sure are were more people in costume than last year – and, crucially, more people in ‘good’ costume. A girl is singing into a microphone outside the conservative club, and I know most of the songs she sings.

Pushing our way though, we manage to get into one of the coffee shops after a short wait. I love seeing everyone sitting there, glamorous ladies in hats and men in uniform of smart suits, sipping tea and eating cake. Many of the cafes enter into the spirit, by offering a wartime menu – though sadly not at wartime prices.

There are lots of vintage traders with stalls, where, at a price, you can get a pair of shoes, a uniform from any of the services, a smart little two piece ‘costume’*, and all the accessories. I manage to resist, apart from buying an RAF hat. Not much use without the rest of the uniform, but I have a real hankering to be part of the Air Force next year.

We decide to pop back to K and V’s house for lunch, and on the way meet J and P, who have just arrived. ‘You look like Agatha Christie’, she says. I can’t say it’s the most flattering comparison I’ve ever had, but I know what she means.

Once back, I decide to change into my second outfit, on the basis that it will be cooler. It’s a air force blue dress, with a jacket of my mum’s. I’m wearing my wig, but have caught the back of it up in a snood, and a small blue vintage hat. I’m still wearing the fox fur on top, however.

Heading this time to the station, I meet up with J and P, and we for more tea and cake, before I browse round more vintage stalls, and loiter on the station, waiting for the train to come in so that I can play at Brief Encounter. Only my outfit isn’t as perfect for that as last year’s.

As the shops begin to close for the day, I find my snood on a stall, and we take a last walk up the main street. We see a couple of German officers. It’s a strange, and slightly chilling sight.

Back at the house, it’s time for our Wartime meal. This year we’ve all taken something. V has prepared corned beef hash, and I’ve made a ‘Woolton Pie’, which is basically all vegetables. We decide they must have eaten a lot of carrots and potatoes in wartime, as they are a substantial part of the meal. J has brought red cabbage. As a meal, it’s really very tasty. We’re all full, and tired out by the time we finish it. Going back in time nearly 70 years sure takes it out of you.

Roll on next year.

*My mum always called her suits 'costumes'. I guess a man wore a suit, and a lady a costume.

The Wolds Way: finished at last

2011-09-25T20:18:00.001+01:00

Back in January, when we started walking the Wolds Way, I said I'd update as we went along (*cough* sorry about that).

Today, we finally finished the 79 miles, on the top of Filey Brigg, the same spot where the Cleveland Way ends.

It's been a walk with some good sections, and some fairly boring ones. Not as strenuous as the Cleveland Way, but with a few very steep uphill stretches.

Where it really let us down was in the quality of the tea shops (when we could find one, they were very few and far between), and pubs. Until today, when first we called in at the charming and quirky Ship Inn in Muston for coffee. Worth a return visit.

When we reached Filey we found ourselves on the West Cliff, an elegant terrace with a bandstand, and, nestled below, next to what used to be a lawn where Queen Victoria once played croquet, was the delightful Cafe Rendevous.

We'd promised ourselves fish and chips as our reward for our achievement, and these were delicious. Fresh, beautifully cooked and very reasonably priced. Washed down with a pot of tea, we then just had to walk along the sea front, and finally climb to the top of the cliff to reach the end of the walk.

And where next? Well, we already have a few ideas.

The 'bottle it' moment

2011-09-23T10:29:00.004+01:00

Every year, on holiday, there is a moment where I consciously think ‘this is the moment I want to save for later’. The moment that I can recall when I’m sitting shivering in the depths of winter, looking out at grey skies, and feeling like it will never be sunny again. I can think back to those saved moments, and remember how it felt. The sun on my back, the relaxation, the experience.

Over the years, they’ve come in various forms. A trip in a boat from Cassis in Provence to the Calanques, drinking a cocktail in Palma. Last year, it was sitting by the sea in Bodrum, eating lunch, with a view of both beach and castle.

This year, it was drinking tea in the garden of La Mamounia. So peaceful, the only sound was the birds in the trees. So quiet too, I started to wonder if anyone could actually afford to stay there. Tranquil, elegant and wonderful. A world away from the hustle and bustle of the Medina. No rush, no hurry, and remarkably affordable.

Sheer bliss

Road to Morocco

2011-09-19T15:07:00.006+01:00

When Cat and I first talked about having a few days holiday in September, we thought about going to the Lakes, a bit of walking, pub meals etc. But then Cat spotted some cheap deals for a city break in Marrakech. The Lakes, where it rains a lot, and after the summer we’ve had, or Marrakech, on the edge of the Sahara, where it doesn’t rain very much at all? No contest really, and very soon we were browsing Riads.

Riads are houses in the Medina, or old city, which have been refurbished as B&B accommodation. Tucked away behind windowless walls opening onto a central courtyard, you wouldn’t know that most of them are there. Our riad was more tucked away than most, in a part of the Medina that many tourists won’t see.

About 15 minutes walk from the main square, after the first 5 minutes or so of walking, you’re out of the tourist area, and into the streets where the Marrakechi shop. You’re constantly dodging bikes, mopeds, cars (when they can get down the street) and donkey carts, eventually reaching Sidi Ayoub Square. From there, you take a right down a narrow alley, through a tunnel and follow another couple of narrow alleys.

Just before an archway, which looks as though it’s been knocked through the wall, is a door. Knocking on it, you’re let into a calm and cool courtyard, which is a world away from the streets outside.

A central fountain, a plunge pool, and rooms on three levels. For all the time that we were there, there was only one other set of guests, so it was like having our own private riad for much of the time. I wouldn't have wanted to stay anywhere else*.

*well, apart from La Mamounia, perhaps, if funds allowed.

Fringe 2011

2011-08-14T20:37:00.002+01:00

This year, three days, 12 shows, a mixture of theatre and comedy. Old favourites and new venues and companies. Two days of sun and one of rain, so for this Summer, not a bad average.

This year’s lessons:

1. Do not forget to pack your pashmina – you will need it when the night chill draws in, and it can also be used as a towel to dry wet feet.

2. The demise of the Guardian Daily Guide means that you will need to be more structured in working out what shows will be in the gaps in your schedule.

3. The Scotsman does daily 2 for 1 or half price offers on many popular shows, and so is worth buying.

4. A show that is sponsored by a whisky company is good. Free whisky!

5. It is now very difficult to find free internet access in venues to book tickets on line, so the best option to avoid queues is either to use phone internet access, or go to the venue at a quiet time, e.g. we managed to get returns for the sold out ‘Prudencia Hart’ just by being at the Traverse Box Office shortly after it opened.

6. In the rain, outside will be cold, but venues will still be hot, so, as always, layering!

7. If you sit in the right bars, or go to the right shows, the famous will come to you.

8. If you visit early, before most reviews are out, read up on the recommendations of a respected critic, e.g. Lyn Gardner.

9. ‘Pot luck’ late night comedy slots are worth booking, as you don’t know who you are going to get, and you may get top names.

10. Edinburgh restaurants serve late into the evening during the Fringe, and it’s very easy to find a good choice of eating places after 10.00pm.

11. (for good measure) Student flats are a good accommodation option as an alternative to prohibitively expensive hotels. Clean, comfortable, and all you need - apart from a tv. But then how much time are you going to spend there?

The Curse of Debbie Harry

2011-07-30T15:43:00.003+01:00

Ever since the time Cat fell down a flight of stairs whilst in the middle of a conversation about Debbie Harry, and sustained a badly sprained ankle, DH has been a bit of a watchword for disaster.

So when I leave the table in the Chinese restaurant to visit the facilities, down a flight of stairs, and Dean tosses the name at me, I respond that it doesn’t work on me. I get down the stairs safely, but coming back up, I catch the heel of my gold sandals* on the edge of a stair, and it comes off my foot. I think it’s just pulled the shoe off, a little like when you continue walking and leave your shoe behind because it’s stuck in a crack in the pavement. But no, the buckle is broken, and the strap is ripped apart in two places. It is now a broken shoe.

I hobble back to the table, clutching my shoe. I can still walk in them, but I’m going to the theatre. I may see actors. How can I see actors with a broken shoe?!

We have some time before the play starts, and not too far to walk, so we call in at the new M&Ms store in Leicester Square, where Cat offers me some fluffy slippers.

Dean points out that we can make it to Clarks on Regent Street. We do, but they have possibly the poorest selection of women’s shoes I’ve seen in a long time. We pop into Austin Reed. I ask for anything in a size 6 – only not pink! They only HAVE pink.

I have to give up. I can actually walk in my shoes. It’s just that it feels very noticeable. It doesn’t matter how many times I’m told no one is going to look at my feet.

We arrive at the theatre, and take our seats. The row in front of us is occupied by the cast of The Tempest, including Ralph Fiennes.

It’s a good job he can’t see my feet!

*I bought the shoes for the same event where Cat fell down the stairs and it was an effort to find the perfect pair. They’ve done good service, but it’s not going to be easy to replace them.

Run!

2011-07-14T10:44:00.002+01:00

(Or, how I helped to save the Doctor)

(SPOILERS for the Punchdrunk Show, The Crash of the Elysium)

The first thing we're told to do is 'run!' Time is of the essence here. The spaceship Elysium has crashed nearby, and we are the only ones who can help.

We're divided into three groups, Patrol, Analysis and Technical, and given numbers, so I'm number 12, Patrol Group, and we have the dubious honour of leading the way into the crashed ship, with Captain Soloman leading us. Corporal Albright brings up the rear. We're all wearing bio-hazard suits, but many have rejected the face masks (I did try, but it wearing it made my glasses fog up!)

'Watch the shadows. And, whatever you do, don't blink'. The grainy video message is received from the Doctor, who warns us that the ship was carrying living art work, 'and some of the art has escaped'.

'Crouch down, and watch that door'. We do as we're instructed, half scared, half hoping that something is going to come through the door. It's dark, smoky, and lit mainly by torches. At times we're in total darkness.

The message from the Doctor tells us he's in terrible danger, and about to die. We have to try and save him. There's a lot of running, past ducts, and into the darkness. Through one door, a figure is covered with a piece of sacking. Capt. Solomon removes it and reveals what we all know to be a Weeping Angel. 'Keep looking at it', someone shouts. As we advance through the tunnels, finding more information, the Angels advance. We see them on the monitor. The youngest of our group, a boy of about 14, shouts 'the image of an angel becomes an angel! Don't look in the eyes, look at the body', and we do, no one wants to be caught. Through the light, the tunnels, the confusion, I'd swear those angels are advancing upon us, as we scramble forward.

Suddenly we stumble through a door and there's straw beneath our feet. We're no longer on the Elysium, but have been thrown back in time to a Victorian fairground on the same spot. We meet Dolly, a one time companion of the Doctor's who holds the key to the Tardis, and tells us that we can still save him, we just have to send the Tardis back to him.

First we have to find it, it's in one of the fairground displays. Curtains draw back, and the Tardis is revealed. putting the key in the lock will send to back to the Doctor - but with it gone, how are we to return to our own time?

And we still have to escape the Angels, who have followed us. More running, through mirrored corridors, images of Angels in the mirrors, crashing, bumping, finally breaking out into another room, where we use the energy we've absorbed as time travellers to turn the Angels to stone, and get us back to our own time.

Finally, a thank you letter from the Doctor. We've helped him now, and he may need us again. One day.

Fantastic!

(For anyone utterly confused)

Much Ado about Tennant and Tate

2011-06-18T16:11:00.009+01:00

It was January when we booked. A crazy day that I recorded on here, and which ended with a long rant as Corinne actually walked to the theatre to book our tickets in person, all web based efforts having failed. It was worth it, for we had fabulous seats. Definitely whites of the eyes (leading to the query ‘has he always had a wonky eye?’*)

Set in the early 1980’s, apparently in Gibraltar (though I don’t think you’d know without the programme), there were some lovely period touches, The play may refer to Messina, but these characters were thoroughly British. A hard drinking and smoking military community.

Initially, I had my doubts about Catherine Tate’s Beatrice, as she teetered on the edge of over-playing it at the start, but she settled into the play, and from the party scene onwards was excellent.

I had no doubts at all about David’s Benedick. He can speak Shakespeare as though it is entirely his everyday language. He brings a clarity and meaning to lines I’ve never really noticed before. He surprises me, and that is so difficult to do in Shakespeare. And he can deliver a line perfectly whilst reversing a golf buggy on stage. Now that’s skill.

His comic timing in the gulling scene was amazing. Unfair to spoil it here, but the scene is a gift to an actor, and he played it to the full.

As a production, it was ‘broad brush’ Shakespeare. Plenty there to hook in those who didn’t know the story (apparently the guy next to Corinne was genuinely surprised when Hero was alive!) But below the surface there were touches and nuances which made a Shakespeare geek grin. Crucially, they passed my ‘test’, which is the line ‘Kill Claudio’. A couple of sniggers, but that was all.

It has a very good looking cast, though I struggled to see beyond David (apart from Elliot Levey’s Don John). Claudio is a pig of a part, and even more difficult I feel if the play has a modern setting. You can only get away with it if he is played very young, which he was. The scene where he is tricked into believing Hero unfaithful the night before the wedding is played out during the stag and hen parties of the couple, all disco lights, music, drinking and disorienting revolve, which worked really well. The addition of his almost suicidal remorse helped, even if it did cut across the uncomfortable earlier scene where he and Don Pedro are cracking jokes until he is challenged by Benedick. There’s still a real issue about Hero forgiving him though.

The music, an 80’s pastiche which sounded authentic without using any actual songs, was excellent, and there were echoes of Wham in the final song and dance routine, which is always going to please me.

There was a real joy about the ending, and yet, we didn’t stand, though many of the audience did. It was great, but it wasn’t ‘Hamlet 1 November 2008’ great.

Afterwards, we did go round to the stage door. It wasn’t as busy as Hamlet. If I’d been determined, I could have got in there. However, I don’t need to push my way in. It’s the long game, and the time will come.

*The answer is ‘yes’, but it was more noticeable in this production. Possibly he’s tired.

Risen from the rubble

2011-06-05T16:44:00.005+01:00

My first visit to the ‘new’ Royal Shakespeare Theatre was always going to be a bit of an event. It’s been getting on for 5 years since I’ve been to a theatre on the Waterside site, the last visit to the old theatre being Merry Wives the Musical in December 2006.

I remember the feeling of shock when I went down for The Glorious Moment and saw the shell of the theatre for the first time, and then gradually seeing the new theatre take place over subsequent visits.

The building has been open for a few months now, but the first productions specifically for the new auditorium have opened fairly recently.
As a building, it’s different, but the same. A place of mixed emotions, it feels strange to step back into what has always been the foyer, and is now the stalls bar. So much more space, now they’re not trying to cram everything onto that small area. The old fountain and the marble staircase up to the circle are back in place, but the circle bar is now accessible to all, not just to those with a circle ticket (and not, therefore, somewhere I’ve visited with much frequency). A new link corridor between the entrance to the RST and the Swan now provides shop space.

All the art deco features of the original building have been retained, the floor of the old stage has been re-laid in the public areas (and yes, I did find that thrilling), and some of the features in the old structure have been left exposed to show the history of the building. I can understand this, but am not sure I like it.

Through the doors which used to be the entrance to the stalls runs a semi-circular brick wall, the back of the new auditorium, with quick change areas for actors tucked away in alcoves. Higher up, bridges link across to the upper levels.

Inside the auditorium, it looks and feels like the Courtyard Theatre, which is slightly odd, as, if you know that theatre well, you feel like you’ve suddenly entered a different building, and one that seems very familiar. That theatre was always meant to be temporary, this isn’t, and therefore has some extra touches which make it feel finished off. None of the seats look to be that far way from the stage, and to have good sightlines.

Of course it’s the bits that the audience don’t see which have changed the most, the backstage areas, the facilities for wardrobe, technical, wigs make-up, dressing rooms . A rabbit warren of corridors that it must take actors a while to get used to. There’s depth below the stage that didn’t exist before. In the old theatre, there was so little space between the back walls of the RST and the Swan that actors appearing in each tended to bump into each other, now, it feels spacious.

At the moment, it still smells new, which feels exciting and full of possibilities. As for the Stage Door, well, of course I checked out where it was, for future reference

'I once went two weeks without seeing Alistair'

2011-05-23T22:54:00.002+01:00

It’s been over two years since I’ve been to a Griffin gig. Time has just slipped by, and while there were gigs I could have gone to, I didn’t. In fact the closest I came was during the snow of January 2010, when I got halfway across town and turned back.

I became accustomed years ago to bizarre gig venues, so when I saw on Twitter that he was going to be playing acoustic sets in the Café Neros of York, it didn’t even seem odd. As I was going to be in town to meet a friend for lunch on the Friday, it seemed right to go along.

The gig was scheduled to start at 12, I got there at 5 to, and looked around, seeing no sign that there was going to be any music. I found a table, drank my coffee, and about 5 past looked up to see that he’d walked in. In fact he was standing right behind me. There was a nod, a greeting, and an acknowledgement. There must have been only about 8 of us actively listening to him, singing softly, un-miked, in the rear of a coffee bar. It had a simple charm to it that was endearing.

As I sat and listened, there were lots of emotions, some of the songs trigger memories that just belong to 'us'. I hear him sing ‘Fields of Gold’, and I'm at Clapham Grand Missing Miles, ‘Hallelujah’, and I'm seeing him reading the words off a piece of paper in the Melbourne pub.

Halfway through, I was joined by the friend who I'd arranged to have lunch with. She sat and listened to the rest of the set, and enjoyed it. I hadn’t realised till then that she’d never heard him sing live before.

He came over and shook my hand at the end. It was sweet. I asked when the album was due out – around August ‘and you all have to buy it'. He admired C’s coat.

What really made me smile was her rather giddy ‘he said he liked my coat’ as we were leaving. I guess she must have looked in the eyes.

All Kinds of Everything

2011-05-16T14:23:00.003+01:00

It’s been three years since we last had a proper Eurovision Party. But this year, we were making up for lost time. We dug out the flags, from Eurovision, and Eurobeat (I found my Ireland badge, and wore it proudly), with my Royal Wedding bunting used as additional decoration.

The big challenge is how many different countries we can represent in the food. Germany, this year’s host, was relatively easy, with meats, cheeses, and a black forest gateau, and we were pleased to welcome back Italy this year (as it had never left our menu), along with Spain, Greece, Turkey (always the baklava), Norway, France, Ireland, Poland, The Netherlands, Portugal, and Malta (the Malteasers).

This time, we even had a YouTube Playlist of Eurovision classics, set up by Cat to watch whilst getting ready for the main event. Particular highlights were songs from Eurovision 2004; Ruslana and the winning, Wild Dances, the lovely Sakis Rouvas (‘still think he should have won’), and of course, Hold On To Our Love (awww, James).

Having decided that any ‘reveal’, i.e. the removal of an article of clothing, ideally ripped off in a dramatic fashion in the style of Bucks Fizz, would be awarded an additional bonus point, we were disappointed that none of the finalists took advantage of this vote winning tactic this year.

The first few songs were rather dull, gaining very low scores from us, but we are, admittedly, harsh markers. Our winners of the night were undoubtedly Jedward. Utterly bonkers, and well deserved of douze points from us, and from the UK. They came in 8th, three places higher than Blue, who still managed a creditable 100 points.

As for the winners, well, in our marking we had Ireland, followed by Russia and Spain, but the contest winners were Azerbaijan, with Italy in a rather surprising second place.

None of us has really rated the Azerbaijan song, and it did have us reaching for the Atlas a) to check out it was actually in Europe*, and b) to see where we’ll be going next year. Apparently their culinary specialty is soup, and fish, and caviar. Hmm, I can see next year being a bit of a challenge!

*Given it borders the Caspian Sea, and Iran, the answer to that one is ‘only just’.

New York State of Mind

2011-05-03T22:26:00.008+01:00

I can't let it pass without mentioning on here that last month (already, 'last month') I was in New York. Finally made it. There's really too much to say, so I won't say much, and give you a few photos, of memorable places. The view down Manhattan from the 'Top of the Rock' was simply stunning, but the Empire State Building was the most impressive, all beautiful Art Deco. Took much longer to get to the top than I'd expected, you don't just get in a lift, you have to go up escalators, have your photo taken, go through security (understandable). I don't remember Meg Ryan doing that in Sleepless in Seattle!

So much of NYC is like being on a film set - because you've seen so much of it in movies. Central Park, The Lincoln Center, Times Square, the bridges, the brownstone buildings. Fire escapes that are just waiting for Tony and Maria from West Side Story... You're constantly craning your neck to look upwards. Yellow cabs, Avenues and streets, getting the hang of the grid system until you get into the Village and it all falls apart. Chinatown, Little Italy, distinct neighbourhoods, yet changing over the years. Fascinating stories of how different nationalities of immigrants settled in particular areas.

Times Square: so bright at night that you almost need sunglasses. Lights, theatres, bars. Yet it felt familiar, not strange at all. There's so much to see and do that we barely scratched the surface. We saw all the main sights that we wanted to, we saw a show, we drank cocktails in a revolving restaurant high above Times Square.

Next time, I can take it all at a more leisurely pace.

'Are you two still here?'

2011-04-22T17:39:00.002+01:00

When we arrived at Fountains Abbey, we were told that it was World Heritage Weekend, and they had some special events on. As we walked round the grounds they had set up picture frames to recreate the views which various artists had painted.

We had also been told that the Banqueting House was open, so we walked up to it, and found people in 18th Century costume being photographed. Always a sucker for a good posed photograph (and a good costume), I was soon snapping away as well. The photographer saw his chance, and the next minute I was photographer’s assistant, holding the flash for him. As they moved off to take more photos, I commented to Judith that it was all very well taking pictures, but what I really wanted was a big frock.

We walked over to the Banqueting House, and chatted to one of the actors, who was from North Country Theatre. I recognised his waistcoat from YTR (I have a habit of doing this), and soon we were chatting about costume, and costume sources. Looking round inside, Judith pointed out a basket of clothes labelled ‘dressing up’. Well…that’s all the encouragement we needed.

We found a dress each. The actor looked rather surprised when I started to take my shirt off (‘don’t worry, I have something on underneath’), and then I was asking for panniers to go under the dress to give it the correct shape. By this point the other actor had joined us, so between us all we got into the full outfits with straw bonnets, and started posing with the actors outside the Banqueting House. We then posed inside, and Judith decided that she would be a servant, and I tried on the man’s waistcoat and frock coat for a bit of cross-dressing. Other people wandered in and out, but were far too timid to try anything on.

Not us! It was the highlight of the day (and of Judith’s visit).

A tale of two Frankensteins

2011-03-27T19:00:00.005+01:00

Having got our ‘hot tickets’ for the National Theatre Frankenstein, we settle into our seats on the back row of the Olivier Circle. Our cast was Jonny Lee Miller as the Creature, and Benedict Cumberbatch as Victor.

The staging impresses from the outset. A bank of light bulbs hangs over the auditorium, angled down towards the stage, and pulses of light shoot down, bringing the creature to life. A huge bell also hangs over the audience, to be tolled at the start of the play, and at later points in the action. Centre stage is a large disc, with a figure inside it, and it is from within this that the Creature is ‘born’.

For the first 15 or so minutes of the play, there is hardly any dialogue. The creature is born, and emerges flailing and crawling, uttering guttural sounds. It is a feat to make all this totally enthralling, and never comic. Miller’s naked form, twitching with aftershocks from the lightening bolts, is a remarkable figure. No sooner born, than rejected by his creator, he is thrown out onto a world which rejects him for his strangeness, his appearance and his inability to communicate. He has a childlike enjoyment of the flying birds, and the rain which falls on him. But his encounters with humans lead only to harsh words, and rejection. To beatings and fear.

Whilst I wondered at the reason for having a steam train* come onto the stage, it is an impressive visual effect, all flying sparks, and clanking noise. Only when the Creature meets the blind De Lacey does he meet someone who does not judge, but educates him, first to speak, then to read. Seasons pass, and he grows into someone who can quote Paradise Lost, and understand the tales of the Roman emperors. But his understanding is warped, and rejection leads to him taking a terrible revenge, before setting off to seek his creator, Victor Frankenstein.

The change of staging, to create Lake Geneva, with some dry ice, and a couple of walkways, is simple but impressive.

Having made a brief appearance at the start of the play, Victor always seems slightly in the shadow of his creation. Of the two castings, I much preferred JLM as the Creature, and BC as Victor. JLM’s creature had more heart, more humanity, whilst BC’s Victor had all the arrogance and hubris of scientist who could play God. Horrified by what he had created, yet unable to take responsibility for it, he is still unable to resist trying again, to create perfection, only to destroy it at the last moment when he begins to consider where it might lead.

The scenes between the two are gripping, and there is a real theatrical thrill in seeing two excellent actors working off each other, probably enhanced by the fact that each knows both parts so well.

The play focuses on the relationship between the two main protagonists, at the expense of most of the supporting characters, though Karl Johnson’s De Lacey impresses. It’s in the quieter scenes that the problems of the script emerge. Some of the dialogue between lesser characters is weak, and when Elizabeth, Victor’s fiancée, declares Switzerland ‘picturesque’, I can’t help but cringe.

Finally, Victor and his Creation are alone in the Arctic wastes (further excellent lighting to create the green glow of the ice and the Northern Lights). The Creature’s reason for continued existence has become Victor, and Victor’s reason is to see his creation destroyed. Their final exit, bound together in a journey to the death, is ultimately moving as on what it means to be human, to have human feelings and compassion.

Unusually, at the end of the play, it was difficult to find the words talk about many of the aspects. It was very ‘cinematic’ in that it used the whole expanse of the space, creating stunning visual images, but theatrical in using the technical capabilities of the Olivier to the fullest effect. It is a production that you couldn’t do anywhere else. But the images stuck in my head, whirling in my mind the next day. And I knew that I wanted to see both the alternate casting, and the NT Live showing to see how the cinematic feel was translated for a cinema audience. There was only one problem. All the tickets for City Screen were sold out.

So there began a quest to track down tickets. I got put on the waiting list, but a waiting list doesn’t guarantee anything. It was only on the day of the showing that I got a call around lunchtime to say that they had had a ticket returned. I snapped it up.

Sitting in my seat that evening, looking at the Olivier auditorium on screen was thrilling. It was fascinating to see the alternative casting, the differences, and the similarities, in the performances. But I definitely preferred the casting that we saw live – perhaps because it was the first viewing, definitely because it was in the theatre, but to me it seemed more moving.

What did surprise me about the cinema transmission was that many of the things which I’d thought would look amazing, such as the bolts of lightening, and the scene changes, simply didn’t**. And a lot of the camera angles were rather strange – some scenes were filmed from above, which just felt wrong, as that isn’t the view that you’d ever get as an audience member in the theatre. The clunky dialogue seemed even more so the second time around.

What impressed again were the scenes between the Creature and Victor, seen this time in close up. Cumberbatch’s Creature was more alien than JLM, even more of an outsider, whilst JLM seems more of a physical actor, perhaps one of the reasons I felt that casting worked best.

I am so glad that I had the chance to see it live, and so appreciative that I was able to get a ticket to make the comparison. It will stay in my memory for a long time.

*Not literally, it’s not the Railway Children, after all. Also, isn’t this setting just a bit too early?!
**I am skipping over here the whole Creature’s nappy/loin cloth for the cinema audience.

Sometimes you just have to put a little extra effort in

2011-03-16T23:29:00.003Z

The National Theatre production of Frankenstein was sold out before we’d even decided the dates for our visit, but there are always day seats, and the plan was to try for those.

Coza says that the word is that the queue for day seats has been forming from 6.30am on weekdays, and 5am at weekends.

‘Ah’, I think, ‘now that’s a bit early’.

There’s a moment, as we consider.

‘I’d do it’, Cat says, ‘after all, we’ve done more, for less’. She’s right, and that settles it.

So on Friday morning, we’re awake at 6am and Cat is outside the NT by 6.30am. We get a text to say that she’s 14th in the queue, and some look like they’ve been there for some time. Given that we expect there to be 30 day seats, we’re on the cusp. I arrive just after 7, having failed to find anywhere en route where I can pick up coffee. The people ahead of us in the line have come prepared, with chairs, blankets, and flasks. I’m wearing my mac, and have a pashmina.

I take over Cat’s place in the queue, and she goes in search of coffee. I suggest towards Waterloo Station may be a good bet. I later get a text to say she’s had to go across the river to Charing Cross.

An elderly chap walks along the queue, checking what everyone is queuing for. It turns out he’s here for Season’s Greetings, ‘I told my sister no one would be here this early for Alan Ayckbourn’ he mutters.

Coza joins us, and the time passes quite quickly. The queue goes back a long way now, but there are seats for all shows (though I doubt if anyone is queuing for Greenland), and standing tickets too. Some time later Coza leaves to go to work, and we watch a chap in the foyer doing some very theatrical, but not very effective, hoovering.

Pretty much on the dot of 9.30am they open the doors. Once inside, there’s a bit of a fracas ahead of us, for it seems that a woman has pushed in at the last minute and bagged a front row seat. There are complaints to the box office staff, and to security, but there’s nothing that can be done about it.

When we reach the desk, all front row have gone, but we secure 3 seats at the back of the circle. For £12 they’re a bargain. Success, and the queuing feels worth it.

Tickets safely stashed, we head for a hearty, and warming, breakfast. Those pancakes sure taste good!

On stage

2011-02-25T16:28:00.005Z

I don't think I've mentioned it before, but since last September, I've been attending the adult acting workshops at York Theatre Royal.

This week, we have the opportunity to work on short scenes from the current production of To Kill a Mockingbird, on stage, on the actual set, and with the actual lighting.

It feels warm, familiar, comfortable, a little scary, but a friendly space.
Intimate, even with 800 seats. Bright, shining, sparkling; red, gold and cream.
The light bounces off the chandelier.

To be there, walking on the set, touching it, making my voice hit the back of the stalls.
My heart pounds. Is it nerves? Memories?
I know I’m smiling.

The end of an era

2011-02-25T15:17:00.005Z

They had a sale at Costume Hire last Saturday. Every so often there has to be a bit of a clear out, but this was much much bigger. For this time it is moving, out of the ramshackle old Maltings building, an old warehouse, used for many years as props store, rehearsal rooms, and costume hire. Freezing cold in winter, and boiling hot in summer, with a lift that you wouldn’t advise a person to ride in, it probably didn’t meet any health and safety standards. But it had character. And space.

The move is to the refurbished De Grey rooms; much more convenient being right next door to the theatre, but with a lot less room for the costume store. And so a lot of the stock had to go. I know how heartbreaking it must have been to decide what had to go, and what to keep. I also knew that it was unlikely that much that would actually fit me would be on offer (and that, sadly, my fabulous suit from the War Weekend wouldn't be)

But still I found myself, on a sleety, snowy February morning standing in a queue waiting for the sale to open. I got there about half an hour before opening time and the there was already a queue halfway down the yard.

Once in, I tried to remain focussed, in the face of people already emerging with arms full of costumes I recognised. I was heading for 1930’s and 40’s, just in case any favourite outfits were on the rail, then period dresses, furs, and period tops and skirts, then accessories.

There was very little room for manoeuvre, or browsing, it was more of a case of grab – I spotted a dress I recognised, from Les Liaisons Dangereuses, a fantastic hat from The Cherry Orchard, a couple of tea dresses (one of which turns out to be too short waisted for me, a fox fur (admittedly rather a cross-eyed one), a coat, and pair of shoes which will pass for 1940’s.

I deposited my armful just as other friends were making it through the door. Having purchased (let's not dwell on just how much I spent, ok?), I made my way back in to help them go through the rails.

J found a nice suit, which will be good for wartime, and we rescued a couple of dresses of the 'in need of care and attention' rail, some of which were originalfrom the 1930's and 40's. I also ended up with another dress, green satin with beading, which is an original 1960's cocktail dress.

As I looked around there were so many things that have memories. The fringed dress from Cabaret that I wore for a Murder Mystery, Mary Magdalene's outfit from the Mystery Plays, Cinderella's dress from John Doyle's last production as Artistic Director, Into the Woods, dresses from The Importance of Being Earnest, Amadeus, The Snow Queen, Charley's Aunt, A Midsummer Night's Dream, and so many pantomimes. Bags, shoes, shawls, what looked like a whole wall of ties, belts, braid, scraps of material.

As I saw everything going, part of me was glad that it was going to people who will hopefully appreciate it, but part of me was very sad that I'll never see some of these costumes again. In fact, I'll probably never go to the Maltings again, and that place itself has so many memories. I had my Mystery Plays audition there, and I worked there for nearly 3 years.

Amidst all this, Pauline said to me 'I didn't think you'd be able to bear to come!' We exchanged a hug.

'I had to.'

This year's walking project: the Yorkshire Wolds Way

2011-01-28T10:11:00.002Z

79 miles, from the Humber estuary to Filey Brigg. It doesn’t seem that far after 110miles of the Cleveland Way.

We started two Sundays ago, and have already completed the first stage, so it’s now 66 miles to go. Of course, we will do this in our inimitable style, so are trying to work out where the best pubs and coffee and tea shops are. (Note: the Yorkshire Wolds are lacking in tea shops in comparison to the North Yorks Moors. They’re just not as touristy)

Once again it’s an opportunity to discover parts of Yorkshire, practically on our doorstep, that we’ve never been to before. Walking along the breezy Humber, and under the huge span of the bridge was fascinating, as was discovering that this route has been used since the Bronze Age. The dry, chalky valley and wide hill tops of the Wolds are very different to the rugged bleakness of the Moors. To me, not as dramatic, or quite as inspiring, but with their own charm.

I’ll try and update as we go along.

The one where the obsessive gene kicks in

2011-01-09T22:56:00.001Z

As I checked twitter before getting out of bed, I saw that David Tennant and Catherine Tate were going to be on BBC Breakfast to make ‘an announcement’. Given the rumours that had been circulating for the last couple of weeks this could only mean one thing.

So, I got up, and I turned the TV on, and I waited. Around 9.45am they were finally on and confirming their joint project of Much Ado About Nothing at Wyndhams Theatre from May to September. Great news, but then David casually confirmed that tickets were on sale ‘from now’. While the BBC were still showing Doctor/Donna extracts, I was already texting Corinne to set the wheels in motion. For the problem was, commercial West End, no priority booking!

The next few hours were to make me realise just how easy getting tickets for Hamlet and Love’s Labour’s Lost had been with my priority RSC booking status.

As soon as the interview finished, I was on to the Delfont MacIntosh website. The trouble was, so was everyone else, and it had already crashed. After a few tries, I tried the phones. This wasn’t just about getting tickets, it was about getting good tickets. Whites of the eyes, not back of the balcony.

Engaged. But again, eventually, I got into a queue. I listened to music. I was told a few times that ‘all their operators were busy’ and I may prefer to try the website. Then the line went dead, or to an engaged tone. I never actually spoke to a person. During the next couple of hours, I got rather tired of the suggestions to ‘try the website’.

I did keep checking. The first time I got to date selection, my heart rose. I was in, I chose seating area, and then it crashed. The next time I got as far as having actual seats. Then I got to put in my card details, and it was only after I clicked ‘confirm’ that it crashed. This happened at least three times, the third time, as I looked at the selection of seats in the middle of C row, I felt that it was mocking me. These were OUR seats, why wouldn’t it let me buy them?!

What was worse was that by lunchtime it was coming through on Twitter that ‘lots of you are getting your tickets now’. Well, not us, and this didn’t help, as they were being sold, but not to me. And I was running out of time.

You see, I’d arranged to pick up my new car yesterday. You’d think that was a very exciting prospect, but it turns out it paled in comparison to booking theatre tickets. At about quarter to one that garage rang me to ask where I was, as they’d expected me in the morning.

‘I’ve, ermm, been distracted. I’m on my way.’ As I left, Corinne continued with the assault on the website to no avail. I kept checking, but we’d made no progress, though clearly others had.

We had one last strategy, personal box office assault, which Corinne was dispatched to carry out. It was, finally, the one thing which worked, as just as was setting off out for the evening, I got the call.

‘We’ve got them, Row F.

Phew. Though honestly, David, next time, do us a favour, and go back to Stratford. It’s much easier on my nerves, and my blood pressure.

My theatre year - 2010

2011-01-03T12:55:00.002Z

It was a pretty good one as far as number of productions seen, as I managed to see 40 shows, after a bit of a slow start in the first few months of the year. I certainly seemed to see a wide variety in many different spaces, and some of the most exciting theatre I saw wasn’t in traditional theatres. It was also a year in which I finally achieved my ambition to complete the Shakespeare canon, so thank you to the Globe for performing Henry VIII.

So, in the best tradition of end of year reviews (which I’m a bit late with, as we’re into the new one), here are my highlights, and lowlights, of 2010.

My favourite Shakespeare production was undoubtedly the Globe’s Henry IV Part 1, which was a great ensemble performance, with a brilliant Falstaff from Roger Allam, bringing out the humour and the pathos of a character that, in lesser hands, can seem quite tedious, so that you wonder why Hal would bother with him.

My favourite musical production was Chess, which I thought was an excellent, and exceedingly camp, revival. I also enjoyed Spamalot, though more so on a second viewing, and that might have been partly because the cast were clearly having so much fun, in what was Marcus Brigstocke’s last week in the show.

My theatre ‘discovery’ of the year was Belt Up Theatre, who we first saw in The Tartuffe back in May, not knowing what we were letting ourselves in for. We then saw them in an Edinburgh attic, a York park, a library, and a pub restaurant, as well as in the Theatre Royal. I love them for their energy, their prolific output, and sheer enthusiasm for producing theatre. Yes, some of the shows can be a bit ragged at the edges, but that’s part of the fun, and all of them have been unmistakably ‘Belt Up’ in style. It’s a long time since I’ve found much in the theatre at York exciting, but they are a truly exciting company.

I also attended some of the NT Live cinema transmissions, seeing London Assurance, Complicite’s A Disappearing Number, and Hamlet. It’s a great idea to let people see these productions who would never otherwise get the chance, but it inevitably looses something, as you are watching what the camera selects for you, and the immediacy of live theatre is lost. I felt it worked best with the comedy, reasonably well for Hamlet, but not particularly well for Complicite.

As for low points, well, sadly, here I have to single out the RSC Antony and Cleopatra that we saw at the Courtyard Theatre in Stratford. I think at the time I tried to see the best in it, though when you find yourself singling out Enobarbus for praise, you know you’re in trouble. The problem was in the casting of Cleopatra, and yes, she really was that bad. I longed to see what Katy Stephens, the understudy, would have done with the role. I will, however, excuse the RSC this aberration, as I’m really looking forward to seeing the new RST now that it’s complete.

As for 2011, well, I’m looking forward to Belt Up doing the Beggar’s Opera, which sounds like a perfect show for them, I’m also looking forward to visiting London, even though we have nothing booked at the moment, and to going to Stratford*. I may also finally get to New York, so it could finally be Broadway, baby. And if yesterday’s rumours prove true (and who knows), I would LOVE to see DT play Benedick.

*All this makes me realise that I need to get some theatre booked, the diary is empty!

Where I achieve a long standing ambition

2010-12-10T13:50:00.002Z

‘It’s not tight enough unless you can’t breathe without gasping’ Dean says as he tightens the laces of my (rather fabulous) Victorian costume.

Now this is all very well, but I can’t actually breathe properly. I know you have to let things ‘settle’, but dresses like this were not made for bending. After much pleading, I’m let out about an inch. Even then, I can’t bend to fasten my shoes, so that has to be done for me. I guess I can understand why you needed servants.

Sadly, servants are not present, and between us we have to cook, and serve, dinner for 6 for our Victorian Murder Mystery. Getting at the oven proves a bit of a challenge, and I can’t seem to sweep into the kitchen without knocking over the side table each time. And this is after we’ve cleared most of the room.

I have to face the sad fact that my house is just not made for a crinoline, much less for 3 women in full period costume. That said, we do attempt a Viennese Waltz in my fairly spacious kitchen. Well, a couple of turns, at least.

To say that I’ve longed to wear a crinoline* would be an understatement, and once I found the fabulous frock, which originally appeared in an Opera North production of Onegin, I was determined to wear it, whatever the logistical difficulties. Of course, we were supposed to be in Robin Hood’s Bay for the Victorian Weekend, but the weather scuppered that. Still, we managed a very enjoyable Murder Mystery anyway. Given I ended up playing the governess, I was slightly over-dressed for the part, but no way was I giving up the dress. Heck, I’d have played a man, and still worn it.

Sadly, the ‘outdoor’ costumes we’d planned to wear had to be left behind at Costume Hire – we’ll just have to make other plans to wear them – particularly for those who weren’t able to make it.

*Technically my skirt was supported by petticoats, rather than a cage crinoline, but it was at least historically correct for the period, being about 7 years too early for a true crinoline (costume pedant, much?)

Strictly 2010

2010-11-29T17:20:00.004Z

How many seasons is it now? I know I've been watching since Season 2, so this must be Season 8?

I haven’t expressed an opinion on this year’s Strictly yet, and we’re already down to the final 6, where we have the (fairly) sublime and the frankly ridiculous. Yes, Ann Widdicombe, I mean you!

I guess I decided pretty much from week one that my favourite was ex-Blue Peter boy (well, I have an existing weakness there), and Countryfile presenter, Matt Baker. Particularly once I had seen that he could dance, though I still feel that Aliona’s choreography sometimes does him no favours, and he needs to ‘dance’ with his face.

I’ve also grown to like Kara Tointon, who has done some lovely dances, her salsa and American Smooth being particular highlights, and Pamela Stephenson who has put in some very good performances. Let’s not forget that there are only couple of years between her and the Widdicombe!

I can’t take to Sccooottt Maslen, particularly after the weekend when he was hugely over-marked for a dance that he had to be dragged through by his partner, and which was only step away from the Matt Di Angelo disaster from a few years ago.

My preferred final would be Matt, Kara and Pamela. My fear is that two of them might be sacrificed for the ‘favourite’ Scott, and the appalling ‘Widdy’.

Snovember*

2010-11-29T17:04:00.001Z

No!

It isn’t supposed to snow this early. In fact, it isn’t really supposed to snow until after Christmas. It isn’t even Winter yet. Listening to the tv and radio, as usual, the country is grinding to a halt.

And it definitely isn’t supposed to snow when I have plans for the weekend!

That’s it, very brief (I think I must be getting too used to 140 characters these days)**

*Title copyright Cat
** but at least I have managed a blog entry for November

There is a war on, you know!

2010-10-22T08:09:00.003+01:00

It was the War Weekend in Pickering last weekend. I’d hired an outfit for it, but the success is in the detail and the accessorising. I knew I had a scary amount of 1940’s stuff, mainly my mum’s but also some of my aunt’s since clearing out her house this year, so I had a good old rummage around and found brooches, a string of pearls scarves, gloves, a couple of handbags, a pair of sunglasses, an umbrella, and a little hat of my mum’s*.

Putting all of these together with my rather fabulous dress and jacket from Costume Hire, I added the shoes, and a fur stole, also from Costume. The only thing I couldn’t do much about was my hair, which is just too short to get into a 1940’s style. J went one better, and got her hairdresser to do hers. It looked fabulous!

As we walked along a York street to the car, we did get a few odd looks. Ahh, no one takes the trouble to wear a smart hat these days, do they? Such a shame.

Arriving in Pickering we walked down into the town with K & V. We were soon spotting others in costume, and I realised just how big an event it is. The whole town was transformed. There were encampments, jeeps, old cars, and most of the shops were decorated. And there was every type of military uniform you could think of. There were land girls, and policemen, a chimney sweep, Army, Navy and Air Force, South African forces, even someone from the Russian Navy. There were ARP Wardens, housewives, spivs and spies.

We posed by vintage cars, jeeps and lorries, one chap admired my crazy sunglasses, and many admired J in her red suit. Eventually we found a space in a tea shop where we could get some lunch. As I looked around, at all the ladies in hats drinking tea, we all looked so smart. The people not in costume were the ones who looked out of place.

Up at the castle we met a detachment of soldiers, and then headed down to the station. Once you are dressed in costume, and standing by a steam train, well of course you immediately go all Brief Encounter. It was just a shame that we didn’t have a ticket to travel to the other stations up the line, to encounter the German army at ‘Le Visham’ and the Home Guard at Goathland. Ah well, another year.

We browsed the stalls in the station car park, exclaiming over the style (and the price) of the Forties outfits and hats, and both J and I squealed at the sight of the National Dried Milk Tins, which for both of us, had been the ‘sugar tin’ in our childhoods.

Eventually, when my feet were starting to give up in their original Forties shoes, with their original leather porous soles, we went back to K & V’s to a dinner of delicious corned beef hash, and wartime music. Fantastic!

*In the ‘hat suitcase’ – yes, I have a suitcase which is just full of hats

Did I mention that I'd completed The Cleveland Way?

2010-10-19T22:54:00.005+01:00

As I began writing about it in January, when we began with some short sections, and then tailed off, it would be remiss of me not to record on here that J and I finished the Cleveland Way on 30 August 2010.

Impressed? Well, I am, though I knew we would do it if we set our minds to it. It took considerable effort, mind, and most of our Sundays over the Summer, and we did it in 16 stages. One of the most challenging aspects was sorting out the logistics of where to leave cars. We encountered all kinds of weather, sometimes 3 kinds in one day (though I missed out on the day with the snow), but it didn't stop us. We are, indeed, intrepid walkers now.

The best things about it were definitely the fantastic views, of parts of the Yorkshire countryside and coastline that you can only reach on foot, the sense of achievement when we completed a particularly strenuous section, and of course, the tea shops, pubs and cafes we found along the way. Some sections had better eating and drinking opportunities than others. I remember one day heading home in disgust as we couldn’t find an open tea shop at the end of our walking. Along the way we visited 6 pubs, 8 tea rooms, 3 hotels, and 4 restaurants, some of them more than once.

In the spirit of the Handbag Walkers, then, I present:

The Handbag Walkers Awards for walking, eating and drinking on (and slightly off) The Cleveland Way

Most scenic section

A difficult one, as so many parts of the walk were beautiful, but I think Swainby to Clay Bank, and perhaps Runswick Bay to Whitby were the most stunning. It was wonderful along the coast to be able to look back, and think that we’d walked along all of the coastline that we could see.

Most strenuous

Swainby to Clay Bank – 4 hills in one day, up one side, down the other, and then up again, but worth it for the views.

Most boring section

Definitely Black Hambleton, from Sneck Yate to Square Corner. A long moorland stretch, but without the view over the escarpment, as there was a stone wall on that side. A long and boring trudge until we reached the descent towards Osmotherly. Bizarrely one of the busiest sections of the walk.

Best Tea Shop

There were quite a few, ranging from the Black Swan Patisserie in Helmsley to Lord Stones Café at Carlton Bank, which I would call a ‘biker’s café’, only it’s clear that isn’t what it wants to be.

I really liked Wit’s End at Sandsend, and also Coast Gallery and Tea Shop in Cloughton, which was a real find

Best Pub

(I feel I should only count pubs where we actually had a meal here, rather than those we visited for a drink, so the Blacksmith’s Arms at Swainby gets an honourable mention for being a nice pub that I’d like to eat at, rather than one I have eaten at)

We had a few Sunday lunches on our travels, visiting the Fox and Hounds at Slapewath twice, but I think my favourite was The Bay Hotel at Robin Hood’s Bay, where we sat in the window, able to see the sea, and I packed away a whole Sunday lunch, and then regretted it when I saw the hill that I had to climb as we left the village.

Best Fish and Chips

Mariondale, Robin Hood’s Bay. Possible because we were both shattered and starving by the time we ate, so never has fish and chips been more welcome. But I think they were pretty good.

So that was it, 110 miles. Our longest walking day was around 10 miles, our shortest about 3, but we did it. And we’ve even got the certificate to prove it.

The end, Filey Brigg, August Bank Holiday Monday, in what felt like a gale. Hardly the balmy Summer breezes we'd hoped for for the end of the walk.

A trip to Costume Hire is always a bit surreal

2010-09-24T09:43:00.002+01:00

I’m looking for 1940’s costumes. ‘War Weekend?*’

‘War Weekend! I’m thinking a tea dress, or suit, a little hat, shoes are essential to create the period. I don’t actually know what we’re going to be doing*.’

We’re soon rummaging through 40’s, which have been well picked over before I’ve got there, and also through 50’s, for the things that haven’t been picked out because they’ve been put back on the rail slightly out of period. Everything is rammed together, so it takes perseverance to find stuff** (which a lot of people don’t have as they just want the full outfit off the shelf – my solution to that? Go to a fancy dress shop!) I soon have an armful of things to try.

In the changing room, I’m next to a woman who is trying on Regency dresses. She comes out, saying that she can’t get the dress to fit properly across her bust. I have to stifle a smile, as, like many, she just hasn’t grasped the ‘hoick your boobs up’ principle of these dresses, and that the only way to produce a Regency bosom is to fit the band firmly underneath, and if necessary shove your hand down the front of the dress and manoeuvre everything into place. I try and explain this as best I can.

The first dress I try on is too big (hurrah), the second is ‘too 50’s’. Nice dresses, both, but not right. The third fits, and is of the right period, but a little drab. Then I try a tea dress from 'Piaf', which fits, and a dress and jacket, which is an 'original' and is beautifully cut. I go looking for shoes, and a hat.

‘I don’t think they need to match perfectly, after all, there is a war on.’ I find some crocodile shoes, and a small hat. I know I have a handbag that will work. I may need to add a fur, but can do that later. I decide to hedge my bets, and take both outfits.

When I go back to the changing room, I find I’ve been usurped by a couple of young girls, despite all my stuff being in there. Rather than evict them, I gather everything up, and dive into the lobby by the ancient lift. At my feet is the cactus costume that I last saw in the attic of an Edinburgh tenement in Lorca is Dead. As I take the dress off, the zip goes. Argh!

*The War Weekend is an annual event in Pickering where basically the whole town, and the North Yorks Moors Railway, dresses up and pretends that it’s wartime. We’ve hired costumes out for it for years, but I’ve never been before.

** The word is that they will be moving early next year, to a place with much less space. Although the current building is ancient, it seems a great shame, the only upside being that there will have to be a sale.

This year's Fringe

2010-08-15T23:19:00.002+01:00

When you offer advice, sometimes it’s a good idea to take it yourself. I was thinking about this when I re-read last year’s Theatresnob’s Guide to the Fringe. I could have saved myself a great deal of trying to juggle stuff around if I’d have remembered the advice about the handbag!

This year felt a little different. I didn’t stay over last year, and so it was nice this time to be able to plan evening shows again. That said, there were so many that clashed that the only solution would be to go for more than one night.

So, in the best tradition of my annual guide, here are this year’s tips:

1. Stay as centrally as possible if only there for one night. This time we stayed in Hunter Square, just off the Royal Mile, and really handy for so many venues. My favourite visits have been where we have stayed within a stone’s throw of what’s going on, and surprisingly this wasn’t too loud late at night.

2. This year the Fringe has embraced Twitter in a way that I don’t think it had last year. Companies tweet information, publications tweet reviews, or re-tweet positive comment. It’s all out there now, so use it, and see which shows have a buzz about them from people whose opinions you respect.

3. Download the various iPhone Apps, and use them for your planning. Whilst I still carried my Fringe brochure around, I was constantly checking reviews, venues and timings on the Apps I had downloaded. My favourite was iFringe, which I found better then the official App, as it was good for reviews, and tips about venues, e.g. location, bars, and eating. I also liked Theatreninjas, who offer free tickets to certain shows on a daily basis, though I didn’t actually use them.

4. A hard copy map is still a good idea though, just to make sure that you know where you’re going, and can have a quick check if unsure.

5. Shows that offer food are still good, though if a show says ‘with strawberries’, I would like to actually get some. A show that offers a full lunch is an excellent idea, but it probably won’t sell well, as most people factor in the cost of tickets and food separately, and won’t want to pay that much for a ticket.

6. Embrace the spirit of the Fringe by wearing a flowery headband. There’ll be plenty of others doing the same.

7. Carry water! So many of the venues were baking hot, and packed.

8. Ditto a pashmina, for when it cools down later on.

After a couple of year’s seeing a mix of theatre and comedy, this year was pretty much all theatre, (mainly because the comedy acts I really wanted to see clashed with things we’d booked), and all in all it was a good selection. Nothing was particularly poor, though some were better than others. A few were very good indeed. Which is a good thing, as tickets are getting more and more expensive (unless you can tap into Theatreninjas, or FreeFringe, 2 for 1’s, or the half-price booth), so it becomes more and more difficult to go for something off the wall, and unheard of. I’m not sure if I want to add up what I paid for 8 shows.

My favourite? BeltUp Theatre’s Lorca is Dead. Most definitely.

Hello again

2010-07-31T19:31:00.000+01:00

Dear Blog (and anyone who reads this)

Sorry!

Did you think I’d gone? I’ve not written anything for about 6 weeks. I kept meaning to, there have been things I could have written about, and things I couldn’t, but somehow I just couldn’t pull the words together. Too much that I would have written about seemed far too trivial.

It’s been a tough few weeks, for reasons I won’t go into on here, but I do want to get back to blogging. It’s just that sometimes the words aren’t there. Hopefully they will be again soon.

Don’t give up on me, I will be back.

A Twitter Encounter (and a few memories)

2010-06-18T10:58:00.004+01:00

I’m relating how thrilling I found The Tartuffe to Corinne, and enthusing about how great it was to see a production that actually made you want to stand and cheer. We happen to be sitting at the Globe before the performance of Henry VIII at the time.

‘You need to see the Medea I saw at the Arcola last year, they’re brining it back. That was one of those.’

The conversation reminds me of something I read on Twitter a couple of days ago. ‘Did you see where Mark Shenton asked about theatrical productions which changed your life?’

‘Yes,…’ before Corinne could develop this much further, the chap seated directly in front of us turned.

‘I’m Mark Shenton’.

I have one of those slightly heart stopping moments. Well, we had been saying good things about him. We start chatting, and he asks what our theatrical ‘moments’ were. Of course, once asked, I can't come up with any one production, and just mutter, ‘oh, probably something at the RSC’, wishing I could be more specific.

Well, in hindsight, I can, so here goes. They are all RSC, they are all 1980’s, but they’ve remained in my memory whilst later performances have faded. Life changing, in that without my visits to the theatre in Stratford, moving to work, and live, in the West Midlands wouldn't have even been a consideration.

My first is Much Ado About Nothing, RST, 1982, Derek Jacobi and Sinead Cusack. It was my first visit to see a production in the main house, and I was utterly spellbound from start to finish. It was beautiful to look at, and the main performances just stunning. For a long time, all subsequent Benedick and Beatrice's were measured against that memory, and there are still things about it which I don’t think I’ve ever seen done better. I'd seen RSC productions on tour, but I think this was the one that made me utterly fall in love with Stratford, and the RSC, and feel that I needed to go there as often as I could.

My second is Les Liaisons Dangereuses at The Other Place in 1985. Again, a first visit, this time to TOP, when it was still a tin hut. An incredible cast, Alan Rickman, Lindsay Duncan, Juliet Stevenson, Fiona Shaw, Lesley Manville. At times I felt I was holding my breath for how the story would unfold. Looking back at my diary from the time, I described the experience as ‘like eavesdropping on the private intrigues between the protagonists’*. I’ve seen Les Liaisons a couple of times since, but I doubt any production will have the impact and power of that first production.

My third is The Fair Maid of the West in the Swan Theatre, 1986, it’s first season. An ensemble production of a not particularly great play but so full of energy and the sheer joy of life that it was another standing ovation show. It used the Swan space brilliantly taking the audience from shore, to shipboard, to pirate attack, to Morocco and back to Cornwall. Wonderful also because it was so unexpected. Again a great cast, Imelda Staunton, Sean Bean, Simon Russell Beale, Pete Postlethwaite. For many years it held the record of the show I’d seen the most, as I saw it 6 times.

There are many others which I’ve loved. Nicholas Nickleby, (the revival, not the original, as I wasn’t lucky enough to see that), The Plantagenet’s, through to The Glorious Moment of all the History plays. I know I’m incredibly lucky to have seen some of the great productions, and performances, of the past 25 years** but often it isn’t the individual performance which stays in the memory, it’s the company, the ensemble.

*which goes to show that I’ve been a diarist for a long time, and also a long term theatresnob
** which however you look at it is a pretty scary time span (and yes, I do know that it’s 28 years since 1982)

The 37th Play

2010-06-12T10:50:00.014+01:00

However you look at it, I've waited a long time to achieve this. All 37* Shakespeare plays, on stage, in professional productions**. My rules.

Some have been very difficult to achieve. Timon of Athens was a toughie, in more senses than one, as Will seemed to forget about an ending to that one. Titus Andronicus was ticked off four years ago at the Globe, and it was the Globe which came up trumps again for the final play, Henry VIII***. And, really, the finale one had to be either there, or Stratford, didn't it?

Even better was when we discovered that Dominic Rowan was to play Henry (clearly the days of ginger Henry's are over), as we (re-)discovered him in As You last Summer.

The last time Henry VIII was performed at the Globe, the cannon set the thatch alight and the theatre burned down. 'Risky', I commented, when we got to that bit in the performance.
As a spectacle it worked really well, with wonderful costumes, and really suited the Globe space. As a play, well, it's not one of Will's best, though some scenes and characters are very strong. Dense and unfamiliar, it took some concentration at the start until your ears adjusted to the words. It suffers from not having one main protagonist, and could do with more severe cutting than it had received in this production, as the second half of the second act did drag a bit. Henry doesn't have a great deal to do, apart from stand around in rather fabulous costumes (very fine calves, Dominic), and I can see why they kept this section in, as it's the bit that shows Henry as the just and wise king, but it did seem unneccessary.

The strongest characters are the Duke of Buckingham, Katherine, a fine and very moving performance from Kate Duchene, and Wolsley, a disappointing one from Ian McNeice, so much so that his fall from power went for nothing, and you never felt that he actually cared at all. In contrast, Katherine was electric in the trial scene. It was a production which also utilised the lesser characters well to add some humour, and to play off the Globe audience. As we've done before we had two seated tickets, and two groundling tickets so that we got two different expereinces of the performance.

And the sun shone. An excellent way to mark this milestone - and thanks, and many hugs to Corinne, Cat, and Dean who were there to celebrate it with me.

*Let's not talk about any additions to the canon, ok?

**So no conflations of the Henry VI's, and no, Kneehigh's Cymbeline does not count, given it met the Shakespeare play once in a bar

***There have been two other occasions when know I could have seen it, both in Stratford, in 1983 and 1996. It doesn't come round very often.

Immersive Theatre

2010-06-06T20:10:00.002+01:00

I knew I was going to enjoy Belt Up Theatre’s The Tartuffe when we were standing in the theatre bar, and members of the cast were mingling amongst us. We chatted with clowns, ladies in corsets, mimes, and the great actor Orgon Poquelin (who was a little put out that we didn’t realise that he was the star of the show), and a chap who asked our names, which we obligingly told him.

As we went to take our seats in the second row of the stalls, the same guy was learning over the edge of the circle, and announced to all the audience ‘here ladies and gentlemen, we have Val and Julie, who have just entered’, of course, we took a bow, and took our seats.

What I hadn’t realised was that we were attending the very final performance of The Tartuffe, and over the last couple of years, and performances in York, Edinburgh, and London, this show has gained it’s own cult following. Belt Up’s style is Immersive Theatre, and for this last show, there were a lot of people who had seen it before, and were happy to get involved. Most people on the front row were dragged up on stage in some way. I was, of course, kicking myself that we were on the second row.

It was, quite simply, the best production I’ve seen for some time, funny, clever, very irreverent*, with enough theatre ‘in-jokes’ to make a theatresnob happy, and then some.

By the end, the whole of the audience were on their feet, as Orgon died, and was lifted aloft like a dead Christ. The cheering went on for some time. This time, I didn’t begrudge the standing ovation, they deserved it. They’re in residence at York Theatre Royal, and I’ll definitely be seeking out what they do next. Also, they have a blog.
Seek them out people, you won’t regret it.

*Though I think I laughed more than most at the bits that were lifted straight out of JCS

A week is a long time in politics

2010-05-13T10:22:00.002+01:00

I know it’s not like me to talk politics on here, but the events of the last week can’t be ignored.

I guess I always knew that the return of a Labour government was more of a wish than a reality. We’ve been through some tough times, and whoever was in power was going to shoulder the blame in the campaign. There were many who voiced that they thought it was ‘time for a change’. I can never understand this. Do these people not think about what this change might mean? Do they not remember the 80’s and early 90’s? They can’t all be first time voters.

I’d been impressed with Nick Clegg and the Liberal Democrats during the campaign, and with my own politics sitting firmly left of centre, I’d thought they would capture more seats (hopefully my own from the Tories, but that was wishful thinking*). Then, after the day, it turned out that it hadn’t quite been the Labour wipe out that some had predicted, and there were deals to be done.

While the wrangling and discussions went on, the rest of the country carried on with its business, I went to Stratford, and Brown stayed in Downing Street. I began to hope that he would continue to do so. I found the outrage of some Tory spokesmen quite amusing when they realised that Clegg was speaking to both parties. To me, it always seemed that there was more commonality between Labour and the Lib Dems than between them and the Tories, and I could see them working well together.

But by Tuesday evening it was over. The deal had been done with the Tories, and Labour were out of office. If you were to ask me where I was when Gordon Brown resigned, well, I was actually coming through the checkout in Tesco, and following it on Twitter. By the time I got home, and the TV on, he was in the car on the way to the palace. I found myself in tears at his speech, and his dignity. In retrospect I think he will be judged a lot more kindly than he has been. I couldn’t bear to watch smug faced Cameron speaking to the media, so when he arrived at No 10, at that point I abandoned the news channels.

So now we have a new government, and new PM, and, for the first time in many, many, years, Liberals at the Cabinet table. Yet I can’t help feeling that Clegg has sold out, that he has been wooed with a seat at the big boys table, and that their presence in the Cabinet will have less impact than we might like to think. The news is all talk of a ‘new kind of politics’, but whilst some policies may have been shelved for the moment, we can but wait and see if they creep back in.

In 1997, I cheered and wore red the day after the election, even though I knew that a Labour government would get rid of the organisation I worked for*, this time I feel a huge sadness that we have put back in power a party which is dedicated to looking after it’s own, and cutting spending on those who really need it.

*Though we had a 70% turn out and they only had a 3,500 majority, so it could have been possible
*To be honest, it needed getting rid of.

A little bit of Stratford

2010-05-11T00:01:00.003+01:00

I stand on the tramway bridge looking at the Avon in, at last, the Spring sunshine, and take a moment. The new theatre is finally taking shape, and from this distance it looks almost finished. Despite what the others said about its appearance yesterday, to me it isn’t about what it looks like. The building has never been attractive, and the main house was always a difficult space where you could feel miles away from the action, but the theatrical history, the memories of performances past, along with the hope for what will be to come, makes it so very special. When it opens we will finally have more than one theatre again.
From the same bridge, as the river curves away, I can see the spire of Holy Trinity. This is Shakespeare’s town, and oh how I love it. I’ve said it before, but there is just something about this town which lifts the spirits. It’s always been a place of escape for me, away from any stresses and pressures of the day to day. I’m someone who hates going into a pub on my own, but in Stratford I’m quite happy to go to the Duck, where there’s usually an actor or two in sight. It’s a small town, so you do tend to trip over members of the company. Yes, in many ways it’s commercialised, and you’re always within a stones throw of a ‘Hathaway’ tea rooms or a ‘Shakespeare’ bookshop, but somehow the mass tourism doesn’t matter. To visit the houses where he lived, and, this time, even the deer park where he allegedly did a bit of poaching, and to hear his words spoken on stage is just magical.

It breaks my heart slightly to leave it. I don’t want to return to the ‘real’ world, where I’m still trying to adapt to the new job. But I know it’s never goodbye. I just have to plan the next opportunity to visit.

It’s just 'farewell', until the next time.

New colleagues

2010-04-30T18:38:00.002+01:00

I’m asking directions. This is happening a lot at present as I start to find my way around the city (even though I have, of course, bought a map).

‘I think it’s near the theatre. Hull Truck I mean, not the New Theatre. I’ve not been there yet, I’ll have to see what’s on’

New colleague ‘I’ve never been there…well, to either of them actually.’

Me: (shocked voice) ‘what, never?’

NC ‘No’

‘We’ll have to change that, (by way of explanation), I'm a bit of a theatre buff*'.

I may have moved across the country, but I guess not much changes in how much I have in common with those I work with.

*I know, understatement of the decade. At least I didn’t go for ‘snob’ from the start, they can work that one out as we go along.

The jury is still out

2010-04-23T11:09:00.002+01:00

And so, Doctor Who without David Tennant. It was always going to be a hard act to follow. We’re now three episodes in, and I’m afraid that I’ve liked each one less.

The Eleventh Hour was broadcast whilst I was on holiday, and I caught up with it when I got back. I enjoyed a lot of things, but it didn’t grip me sufficiently for me to break through the post holiday fatigue and watch it all in one sitting. However, I really liked the writing, the concept that Amy met this new Doctor when still a little girl, and then again years later. Also Matt Smith (and Stephen Moffat) seem to be giving us a much more ‘alien’ Doctor than we’ve had.

The Beast Below was ok, though it reminded me of many previous episodes, of both Who, and Torchwood. Also, there were too many children in it for my liking. I really liked the character of Amy, though, who seems a good match for the Doctor.

And then we came to Victory of the Daleks. Oh dear. Some of the Dalek episodes have been among the poorest, and in my mind, they bring them back again far too quickly. Time to give them a rest I think. Whilst it was a close run thing with Daleks of Manhatten, I think this was the poorest of the lot. I was actually quite bored.

The relationship between the Doctor and Churchill seemed very false, and Matt Smith’s performance had neither the presence nor the stature of the Doctor. Maybe some of it was the writing, and the direction, but he seemed quite insignificant. This time I really, really missed David. I also really disliked what they have done to the Daleks in re-creating them. The old Daleks were menacing in their metal shells, these colourful Daleks (surely a marketing ploy to sell new figures?) seem to have lost this.

I hope for better things to come with next episode which brings back River Song and the Weeping Angels. But, for now, the jury is out.

A fresh start

2010-04-10T15:52:00.001+01:00

You could say I’ve been a bit busy lately, what with finishing one job, going on holiday, and starting a new one the day after I got back*, without even thinking about adding in selling a house**, so I’ve not really been around on here, and have so much to catch up with.

For now, well, I no longer work in Liverpool, and have moved to Hull***. I think there may be a lot of similarities between the two. But hopefully the new job will have good things without the low points of the last. It’s no secret that it had become very difficult over the last few months of last year, and that I couldn’t see that it was ever going to change. So, I’ve moved on.

The holiday was a Nile cruise, which was fabulous, but exhausting. If anyone is planning on going on one, my advice would be to also plan about 4 days ‘down time’ at the end, just crashing out. Today is the first day that I’ve felt anything like normal. It was fabulous though.

*remind me never to think that’s a good idea again
**not mine
***when I say ‘moved’, I don’t mean literally. I’m not leaving York

It makes the theatre snob in me quite proud

2010-03-21T17:43:00.001Z

I heard from my lovely ex-boss last week. This is the boss who had only ever seen two theatre productions in his life. As a life-long Hull City fan, Confessions of a City Supporter, and then a few years later on a trip to London, We Will Rock You (yes, I did mock). When I used to rave about the magic of live theatre, he always told me that theatre wasn’t for him, as it was ‘posh’.

In an email about work, he also told me that he had started going to the theatre, and sounded quite excited about it. He had recently see Blood Brothers, Billy Elliot and even Jerusalem (ahead of me there). He went on to say that he had also booked for Phantom of the Opera, Thriller (I will allow him an ‘off’ day) and The 39 Steps.

It was lovely to read his final comments: ‘Have really enjoyed all of them and I can absolutely now see why you love the Theatre so much’.

Awww!

Travels with my iPhone

2010-03-21T11:17:00.003Z

I admit it, I am in danger of becoming an iPhone bore. I’m told it happens to us all.

After about 3 days of wanting to chuck it at the wall, as I could neither download or text, and the most useful thing I’d discovered was how to find out what the weather was in Luxor, I started to get the hang of it. Setting up an iTunes account helped*.

I’m thinking it’s going to be most useful when I’m out and about. I’m not interested in the many games Apps, but there are some wonderfully geeky mapping Apps, and I’m nothing if not a map geek.

I got to test it out on Thursday when I had to go to Manchester with our Finance Director for a meeting. He had a paper map, but it wasn’t that good, so I tapped the post code of the place we were going into the iPhone. It didn’t just show us the route, but also show us walking along it as a little blue dot. We were like a couple of children, giddy with excitement (I know, it doesn’t take much)! Coming home, I was able to find the times of the next trains to York (ok, I missed the first of them, but that was because I don’t do running).

Then yesterday we were having a shopping day in Liverpool, and wanted coffee. I was standing in Debenhams and searched for coffee shops. The nearest one was actually one I’d been to last summer, Rococo, and wanted to visit again. It's a bit like a tart's boudoir, and a welcome change to Starbucks or Costa

Mind, I also discovered that this same App shows you where the nearest places of interest are to where you’re standing, and gives you the history of them. I find this fascinating. My colleagues just rolled their eyes and groaned.

I am going to enjoy this!

*Yes, I know this is the basic thing, but I didn't have one, and hadn't set it up right at first.

In which I finally get my iPhone

2010-03-12T12:49:00.002Z

When I went into town the other day I got my iPhone. After my strop with Vodafone I hadn't had time to get it till now. As with many things which bring with them huge expectations, so far it is proving to be a bit of mixed blessing.

You see, I can’t actually work it very well. What I hadn’t appreciated, even from seeing others use them, is how very different it is to a ‘normal’ mobile. As someone who has struggled to get to grips with my work BlackBerry, it’s proving to be something of a challenge. Couple that with the fact that I so far have not been able to log on to download any ‘Apps’, and I’m getting to the point where I’m about ready to chuck it against the wall (only I won’t, cos of the cost).

I’m sure I will get there, it will just take me longer. I’m finding the keyboard particularly difficult as it’s so sensitive, and I’m used to bashing at the keypad on a phone. I therefore tend to end up with gobbledegook. At the moment, everything is taking me three times as long as it did before.

And all those wonderful Apps, well, they’re still a mystery to me. Even browsing them, apart from obvious things like Facebook and Twitter I have no idea where to start, (though Cat has offered to advise me). It’s proving quite stressful at the moment, when I foolishly thought it would be a breeze. But then it’s me, and technology. And that rarely ends well.

The Cleveland Way - Part 3

2010-03-10T17:26:00.006Z

Let’s face it, it was always going to be a bit piece meal. It’s a linear, but not a sequential, walk as far as we’re concerned, by which I mean we will probably jump around a bit depending on which bit takes our fancy. I’m already playing catch up as J and V walked one week when I had to go to rehearsal, so I’ve only just done my first 10 miles, in three separate stages.

This time, we started from Osmotherley, and had the advantage of convenient husband, (V’s) and sometime honorary handbag walker, K to meet us in the pub and collect us at the far end, so didn't have to move the cars around.

I’d done the first part of the walk last summer, when it was a lot less muddy, but emerging from the trees and looking out across the still snow topped moors to Roseberry Topping and beyond, the view gave a sense of scale of the thing we’re doing.

It was all very well marked, and there were a lot of other walkers. For once I too looked like a serious walker, as my handbag had been replaced by my bright blue back pack (only because I decanted into a smaller handbag for hols, and haven’t ‘upgraded’ again since). V managed to get a bit of shopping in by buying a dozen eggs from a farm en route. It was slight less eventful than last time, i.e. no evil turkey (though there were a couple of cockerels and some hens which I gave a very wide berth).

After about 4 miles we detoured, and headed into the village of Swainby, discovering a very nice pub which we’d like to return to. This time we just had tea, but they had a lovely range of food on offer. I'm still thinking that this is really all about what surrounds the walking; the food, the drink, and the shopping.

A Big Frock

2010-02-26T13:43:00.001Z

We’ve all done those ‘icebreaker’ games at training courses, right? The sort of things which make some people cringe with embarrassment. We’ve been having a couple of ‘awaydays’ from work recently, so it was decided that we needed one of these at the start of each day to warm things up, and to get to know a bit more about each other.

This week, we were all asked to draw something which represented our personality, and then we would all look at the drawings and try and decide who each one belonged to.

I tried to decide what to draw. A theatre would be too obvious. I settled on a big sparkly frock.

Setting aside that artistic ability doesn’t seem to be one of our strong points, it was quite interesting to see what people had drawn. Many had drawn stick people representing partners and family, whilst others had focussed on interests, music, golf, bird watching. Some people were very obvious, others more difficult to guess.

One drawing was of what I took to be a pig’s head*, (though others took it to be a cat), and a skull and cross bones.

‘I think that’s Val’
‘I think it’s Val too, she’s just playing it cool’
‘Why? Do you think I’m into piracy?’**
‘It’s your Gothic side coming out’

Then the frock drawing was displayed

‘No, I think that’s Val’
‘Yes, I do, it’s the drama’
‘What is it?’

I acknowledge ownership. ‘It’s a big frock’. Some of them look a little puzzled. ‘I believe life is better in a big sparkly frock’

‘I bet you like Gone With The Wind too, don’t you?’

*Turns out it was a teddy bear
**Yes, I know we once planned to sail a boat to Falkirk, and I have dressed as a pirate, but they don’t know that

Overheard in a theatre bar

2010-02-14T12:14:00.003Z

I’m waiting to be served, and eyeing up a piece of ginger cake (which confirms that the diet is so far going nowhere fast), when I casually tune in to the conversation in front of me. It seems the server has recognised the customer

‘Hello, do you remember me, we were in Titus Andronicus together?’
‘Oh yes, I was Saturninus, the Roman Emperor, and you were...?’
‘I was one of Tamora’s son’s…I ended up in a pie’

When it’s my turn he sees I’m smiling at the conversation.
‘You don’t hear a conversation about Titus Andronicus very often’, I say.
‘Did you see it?’ he asks. He has that look of an actor who's thinking they might get a bit of praise. I guess it’s a reasonable expectation, given how infrequently it's performed. I know I’m going to disappoint him, and out myself as a theatre snob in the same sentence.
‘No, I saw it at the Globe, it was one of the plays I still had to tick off on my list’.

The Cleveland Way - Part 2

2010-02-13T12:16:00.004Z

We did the second stage* of the Cleveland Way on Saturday. It was eventful. Firstly, we were quite late setting off. Are the timings of ‘serious’ walkers affected by hairdresser appointments? Well, those of handbag walkers are.

Two new haircuts later, the three of us set off in the early afternoon heading for Rievaulx and Cold Kirby. It was probably a mistake to rely on V’s satnav to get us there, as initially it didn’t seem to recognise Cold Kirby as a place, and wanted to send us towards Harrogate. When I entered Rievaulx as an alternative, it took us via some winding back lanes. I kept reverting to the map to check if there was a better way, and ended up ignoring it completely. It also got foggier and foggier the closer we came to our destination.

Eventually we got there, and we all piled into one car to head to Rievaulx as our starting point. At this point I realised I’d forgotten my socks, and my pashmina. We parked at Rievaulx amongst horse boxes, and started our route, initially along a road.

We hadn’t gone far before we encountered The Turkey, in the middle of the road. A big, very scary, bird, which had somehow escaped Christmas, and wasn’t going to let us past easily. I tried to hide behind J, but she would insist on taking a photo of it, which only attracted its attention.

The others got past. I couldn’t, and for a few moments thought I would have to go back to the car. Eventually, as it clearly wasn’t going anywhere, I climbed over the fence into a field, and gave it a very wide berth, all the time checking to see if it was coming after me. I finally managed to rejoin the others two field later by scrambling through the hedge. I was a bit shaken.

After that, the walk took us through a valley, which we all agreed would be lovely in better weather. About this point, J wondered if she’d left her car keys in the other car.

‘Well, I’m not going back past that rampant turkey’. Thankfully, a quick check revealed they were in her rucksack.

The walk up the valley side was tiring, and then the final stage across open field, with the view obscured by the fog, just made me long for a cup of tea.

We reached the car in Cold Kirby having only done about 4 miles, but we were pretty tired, and looking forward to cake. As it was getting late, we headed for Sutton Bank Visitor Centre for the nearest tea shop, only to find that it had closed 20 minutes earlier. Have they no thought for handbag walkers?

There was no option for it but to head back to Helmsley, and the patisserie tea shop in the Black Swan Hotel. With mud on our boots, we weren’t exactly dressed for it, but they didn’t seem to mind. And the tea and cakes there are lovely.

I’m really not sure how we are going to manage when we have to walk the long barren stretches of moorland.

*This is our second stage. We have yet to complete the recommended first day of walking in the official trail guide

Angry

2010-02-05T17:32:00.002Z

You remember I was going to get an iPhone? Well, I’d decided to go and sort this today, as it would have been just too distracting to get it midweek when I was supposed to be working. I was looking forward to having the weekend to play with it.

I went into town specially. In the Vodaphone shop, I spoke to an assistant who looked and sounded like she’d rather be somewhere else. I explained I wanted to upgrade, and had been told I could do so from the end of January.

She tapped in my number. ‘When did you enquire about an upgrade?’
‘About 2 weeks ago, I was told I could upgrade 90 days before the end of my contract’.
‘Yes, you could. Only this Monday, it was changed to 50 days’.

I must have looked a bit dumbfounded. ‘What?’ (What she doesn’t realise is that this is my ‘dangerous’/scary tone)
‘You won’t be able to upgrade until the end of Feb’. By way of explanation ‘they sometimes do this without telling us’.
'So if I'd have come in last weekend, I could have got one?'
'Probably'

I’m seriously not impressed, and actually quite angry at being denied my new ‘toy’. ‘I’m not at all happy about this’. I think if she could have got away with shrugging her shoulders, she would.

But what do you do. No point ranting any more in the shop – though I was quite loud in my displeasure.

I bought chocolate (see, even my diet has suffered). And came home and sent a strongly worded email to Vodaphone.

And blogged about it.

I guess a 4 line nursery rhyme gives plenty of scope

2010-02-02T15:43:00.006Z

It was the last night of York Panto on Saturday. This year, it was Humpty Dumpty. Not that it mattered, as there was no discernable plot. We had Snow White in there, complete with 7 penguins rather than dwarves (Snow, geddit?), Old King Cole, and Young King Cole, who was, of course, called ‘Nat’, and Simple Simon, and a baddie called Eggula. And of course, Humpty himself, who emerged from the egg.

We had the usual company of actors, Berwick (31 years and counting*), David (yes, still got it), Martin, Suzy, Vince. A few new recruits too among the dancers, including David’s 19 year old daughter. As I remember her running round as a toddler on last night, I felt old. There was possibly the campest panto chorus I’ve ever seen. (All dressed as Superheroes, below, for no particular reason)
This year, I didn’t get to see it before last night, so it was all new to me – though many of the jokes, and the slosh scene, were distinctly recycled. But that’s the joy of it, and that’s why we come back year after year. When it got to the songsheet, it’s usually ‘girls and boys’ against ‘mums and dads’.

Berwick looked out at the audience. ‘All those under 18 raise your hands’. Two hands went up. ‘Hmm, I think you’re going to stuggle’. Of course it was a draw, as it always is.

As always, we had our script as the audience, and were pretty much on cue. There’s definitely a Eurovision fan in there somewhere, as I suddenly realised that the main love song was in fact this year’s winning song from Norway.

Despite being on the second row of the Stalls I didn’t get a Wagon Wheel. Next year they’re doing Robinson Crusoe. As Berwick said, 'if you do Jack and the Beanstalk, you pretty much have to have a beanstalk, and a cow', and he likes to take a title and see where it goes.

* I think I’ve missed about 5 of them, the first 3, and *ahem*, those in 2004 and 2005 when I was otherwise engaged.

Theatre at last

2010-02-01T17:08:00.001Z

For a while, I've felt like a Theatre Snob who doesn't actually see any theatre, as, until a week ago, I haven't been to see anything since early November. Yes, December was theatre-less. Shocking, I know, and not acceptable. I must do better. It was therefore a relief to finally go to see The Misanthrope in London last weekend.

‘She’s too thin, it’s distracting’, is the verdict of half of our party on Keira Knightley, who is the principal reason that we had to pay full price for our seats. And she really is as skinny as they say. Her costumes emphasise this, to then extent that you want to tell her to go and have a plate of chips. She isn’t our principal reason for going, however. That would be Dominic Rowan, and Damian Lewis.

Of course, I’m interested to see what she makes of her first stage appearance, and she is fine. Not startling, not great, but fine, in the role of a Hollywood actress embroiled in the celebrity circuit, which is a good choice for her. Martin Crimp’s modern adaptation is in verse, and the rhythm of the lines occasionally catches her out. She’s in the midst of experienced stage actors who, in the main, handle it much better, though initially I’m a bit worried about Damian Lewis’s diction.

Most of the characters in the play are manipulative and cynical. Whilst I can see why it seems a good idea to update it, I’m thinking it would probably have worked better in its original 17th Century setting. In the second act, I’m proved right, as an excuse is found for a 17th Century costume party, and in the last scene the play fizzes with a life it didn’t have before. The costumes are fabulous. Keira actually looks better in period costume, as the dress disguises something of her extreme skinniness. She does lack a 17th Century bosom though*.

I like the performances of Dominic Rowan as Alceste's best friend (and the most sympathetic character), and Tara Fitzgerald as an acting coach. I find I can't blame Alceste when he storms out on the lot of them. The cast is a strong one, but occasionally I feel they're having to work really hard to cover some of the cracks in the play.

*No amount of ‘hoicking your boobs up’, which used to be my instruction to customers in costume hire, would work here.

The diet starts again

2010-02-01T11:59:00.002Z

Each year I start my diet again on 1 February, as every year I have put weight back on. Starting on 1 January is far too much of a cliché, and there is always lots of Christmas food, and chocs, and biscuits still to eat up. January is also usually far too busy to think of dieting.

Last year, I managed to lose 1st 4lbs by the summer, but since then I’ve gradually put it back on, so I’m starting only half a stone down from where I started this time last year. I’m also thinking this year is going to be a struggle, as I have holidays booked much earlier. I’m away for a few days in a couple of week’s time, and then am going to Egypt at the end of March.

That’s my first real target, for I need to lose at least half a stone before Egypt, so that some of the clothes I have bought look good, rather than tight. I like to have a dress to ‘slim in’ to, and this year I bought a couple of lovely dresses in the sales which are at the moment, frankly a bit ‘snug’.

As before, I’ll keep you updated on here. Only, as you’ll have noticed, once the diet tails off, I do tend to stop talking about it.

Where I may become even more anti-social

2010-01-29T11:51:00.004Z

I’ve been pondering getting an iPhone. My poor old mobile is distinctly worse for wear, and has had a cracked screen since I dropped it on the car, so I’ve been waiting until I qualified for an upgrade.

I called into the shop last week to see what my options were. It seems I’m eligible from the end of this month.

‘What do you recommend?’
‘Get an iPhone’

Last weekend, I was looking at all the Apps* on Cat’s. For a map geek like me, it was fabulous (yes, I know there are lots of other Apps, but it was the ones that could direct you to places, and recommend a nearby restaurant** which fascinated me). I want one, even though it may mean I spend even more time not talking to people.

So when I saw someone’s iPhone on the table at work, I asked what she thought of it. She looked at me, and it was almost like I could read her mind. What could someone like me (in her eyes, a total non-techy) want with an iPhone?

‘Yeah, it’s good, but you’d probably find it complicated’
(pause)
‘Mind, I do have a lot of Applications, and things like Facebook on mine, which you wouldn’t want’

I smiled. ‘Oh, you’d be surprised’

They really don’t know me. And that suits me just fine.

*See, iPhone jargon
** if you ever need an Indian Restaurant in Grantham, we can recommend one. Not that we visited, we were on the train at the time.

The Handbag Walkers Guide to the Cleveland Way

2010-01-26T10:30:00.003Z

Last year, we did the Ribbon Walk. It was challenging, but it made us get out and walk, even when we didn’t really feel like it, as we had to ‘train’ (I remember how I scoffed at the very idea at the start), but we did it. And we’ve managed to keep going since, though not with quite the same level of intensity. Winter isn’t the best of time to walk as it is a) cold, b) tends to be muddy (or, this year, snowy), and c) gets dark early, but we’ve still been out there.

This year, our project is to walk The Cleveland Way. All of it, all 110 miles. Not all in one go, of course, but over the year. We’ve done a lot of bits of it, but this time we want to complete it. We probably won’t do it in the right order, and there may be quite a few logistical difficulties, but that’s the plan.

As it’s a linear walk, we’ve already realised that it’s going to take a bit of organisation, for example, we have to leave a car at each end of the section, so we have to decide how far we can walk in a day. It’s not a good idea to get stuck in the middle, as there’s not a lot of public transport to be had. There’s also other minor issues, like making sure you have the right equipment in the right car, i.e. don’t leave your camera, your map, or your socks in the car at the end.

We did our first section on Sunday. Helmsley to Rievaulx. We were going to go further, but it was a bit rainy, and the path was very muddy, (and we’d forgotten the book). It’s a walk we’ve done numerous times, though usually there and back, so it actually seemed quite short. There’s a good tea shop at Rievaulx Abbey which does an excellent, and filling, bowl of hearty soup.

Of course this is going to be the alternative guide, with recommendations of all the best places to stop for refreshment along the route. Though, looking at the map, there are one or two sections where we may have to *gasp* take sandwiches. There will also be shopping. We finished on Sunday with a walk round Helmsley, J bought a lovely pair of boots.

It’s started well.

Snow, snow, snow

2010-01-08T12:05:00.007Z

It’s a long time since I’ve not been able to get to work because of snow, but this week, I’ve missed two days. Oh, we have some disruption every year, but it’s a long time since there’s been this much, and it’s lasted this long. It used to happen much more frequently, and I have photos of me standing on snow drifts as high as the hedgerows when I lived in the countryside.

I think that year it took them three days to get a snow plough through to us. But we didn’t panic buy (well, we couldn’t as there was no shop), and we just got out the shovels and dug paths. There was no reason to try and use the car, as even if you dug it out, you couldn’t go anywhere. If you were lucky, a tractor might get through.

What I don’t remember is there being the huge drama then that there is these days, particularly if it should happen to hit London. I know people travel much further to work now, and need to be informed of what the weather, and transport, are like, and the internet is a great and wonderful thing when it comes to information. Back then, you just had to set off with your wellies, and a shovel in the boot and hope for the best. And (and I know this makes me sound old), our house didn’t have any central heating. Flippin’ freezing it was.

This year, I have actually bought new wellies, and have been looking for some ‘snow boots’. No, I’m not quite sure what they are either, but I’m sure I used to have a pair, and they kept my feet warm and dry. A friend said 'are you sure you don't still have them?', as I'm known for my hoarding, and if I look in the right cupboard, well, maybe I'll find them.

But it is very pretty to look at, and there’s something about this sort of snow, dry, powdery, and somehow, clean, that just makes you want to get out in it and take photos. I would just like some warmer weather soon.

What a difference a few years makes

2010-01-06T23:36:00.004Z

I nearly went to see Griffin tonight. When I say ‘nearly’, J and I had plans to walk through the snow from hers to the Vicky Vaults for an acoustic gig. I set off from home, it was snowing, and once I hit the main roads which are usually clear, it was lying fast, and there wasn’t enough traffic to keep it clear. It was pretty scary.

I made it to Monkgate, before deciding I was being foolish, and if I made it to the pub, I might not make it back. I turned round, and drove back home, sliding back down the roads.

Later, I was on the phone to Corinne talking about this:

‘You went to Cardiff in awful weather and with overturned lorries not to see John, and we went to Liverpool that time, not to see James.’
‘Yes, and I also went to Stratford in snow when I got there and some of the actors didn’t’
‘In the past, you’d have abandoned your car, and walked. But now you wouldn’t cross town for him’
‘I know. It feels rather strange. I knew you’d understand’. We laughed.

Pause

‘Imagine if it had been this week last year*!’
‘Oh God!’

*That is the week of the last DT Hamlet, and Barrowman in panto

This time the rest really is silence

2010-01-04T17:43:00.013Z

In amongst all the various showings of episodes of Doctor Who, interviews with DT, radio programmes, quiz shows, etc etc, I'm sure it can’t have escaped your notice that the RSC/David Tennant Hamlet was also shown over Christmas. Yes, the BBC let us watch David Tennant die in two different roles over the holiday period, and, yes, I have wept a lot of tears over this (and it will probably be a long time before I can watch The End of Time without crying again).

A story which I thought had ended in January 2009 actually came to it’s conclusion on Boxing Day. Having said on here that it needed to be filmed, well, there was no way I wasn’t going to watch it. I pretty much planned my day around it.

Although the setting was opened out a little, so that it wasn’t just a film of the stage production, it retained much of the feel of the stage, with the use of mirrors, though the surveillance cameras gave a more intense sense of being watched.

Basically, the things I liked on stage, I still liked, and the things I didn’t like, I still didn’t, with one exception. Seeing it produced in a different medium got me annoyed about the cuts all over again. Watching the supporting Learning Zone programmes (hidden away in the early hours of the schedules but sleuthed out thanks to following David_Tennant on Twitter) provided insight into the reasons for some of them, so that even where I don’t agree, I now have more idea why they did it. For the record, I still don’t think a lot of them worked.
Whilst nothing will come close to that magical performance on 1 November 2008, I did love David’s performance. Though the soliloquies didn’t quite have the freshness that they had on stage, when it really did feel like he was saying the words for the first time, they were still immensely moving. He still broke me with 'the readiness is all', though I did manage to hold it together till that moment. I thought the closet scene was tremendous, and he and Penny Downie were magnificent, balancing the horror of Polonius's murder and Hamlet's accusation of Claudius with the mundane 'Goodnight Mother'. If I had been giving the supporting actor awards, they would have gone to Penny’s Gertrude, and Oliver Ford Davies’s Polonius, which were the two performances which still stood out, though I do have a soft spot for Rosencrantz and Guildenstern who deserve a much better epitaph than they get.

The performance which to me came across better on film than it ever had on stage was (Sir) Patrick Stewart's Claudius. Perhaps his performance was always more filmic? Ryan Gage was also good in the small role of Osric, his interplay with Laertes marking him out as someone else who is party to Claudius’s’ scheme.

I still didn’t like Ophelia at all. Apparently most of her mad scene was improvised so that the other actors didn’t quite know what she would do each night. Whatever, it didn’t work for me, and she failed to touch the heart. Similarly Mark Hadfield’s Gravedigger remained a very ‘hammy’ performance from an experienced RSC actor. As I’ve liked other performances of his, I can only blame the director.

I did think that you got a sense of the ensemble in the film, though not to the extent that you did on stage, though it was also clear that some actors were much more comfortable, and experienced in working with the camera than others. The doubling of parts seemed a little odd in a film, though it's a very familiar stage convention, I did wonder if some viewers would be puzzled by it.

Overall, it's a great reminder of the production, and it's also wonderful that so many others will now have the chance to see it, including those who ended up watching Ed Bennett's Hamlet (good, by all accounts, but I'm glad I didn't see it), rather than David's. Hopefully it might attract more new people to Shakespeare.

Just always make sure you leave a seat in the theatre for me.

There go the 'Noughties'

2010-01-03T16:42:00.002Z

I’m not quite sure how we’ve reached the end of the first decade of the 21st Century so quickly, but it’s certainly been one of change. So, in keeping with all the TV shows, and media articles over the last week, I’ve done my own review of the decade. It’s taken me a while to pull this together, as reflecting back ten years has taken some doing.

At the start of the year 2000, Doctor Who was an old TV show which had trailed off into a sad decline over 10 years earlier, no one knew what reality TV was, Simon Cowell was unknown and Strictly and X factor, and God forbid, even Big Brother were unheard of. So much has changed.

On a more sombre note, I will always remember where I was when I first heard about the twin towers, and the London bus and tube bombings. In a lighter vein, I will also always remember where I was when England won the Rugby World Cup, for I was in a car on the way to Harlow, singing ‘Wherever You Will Go’!

It’s been a decade when I’ve got to grips with new technology (though I know I am always at least 6-12 months behind others), using mobile internet, social networking sites and forums in a way that I couldn’t have dreamt of 10 years ago when I was just starting to get to used to sending a text message. I also started this blog nearly 4 years ago. However technology has also meant that work is ever present. Rather than having more leisure time, it means that you are always accessible.

I’ve travelled to many countries (ok, mainly Italy), but only made it out of Europe once, with a brief stop in Tunisia on my cruise, and therefore have places to go in the next decade. I went to Eurovision, and that will always be a highlight.

It's been a decade through which I have managed to work part time, and still maintain a decent lifestyle. There have been ups, and downs, with work, the most shocking being when I was made redundant with very little notice, but you come through it, and out the other side. I’m better qualified than I was 10 years ago, but am not using those qualifications, which I regret to some extent (though I’m really not sure how you do use a degree in theatre film and tv?) but I also know that what is important to me is not what I do at work, but what I do outside. Work is what pays for the good stuff.

It’s been a decade with a great deal of theatre in it, though I doubt I’d have believed you if you’d told me at the beginning that I’d have seen one show 21 times in less than 12 months. Before JCS, ‘obsessive’ meant seeing a show 3 times. I visited the Globe for the first time (and a few times afterwards), Stratford of course, particularly for the ‘Glorious Moment’ of all 8 history plays in 4 days, and for David Tennant’s Hamlet.

Music has shaped this decade more than any other, because not only did it mean that I travelled places, and did things I never thought I would, but mainly because I met the most wonderful bunch of people who amazingly I had other interests in common with. Bizarre really, I did an OU course on Shakespeare thinking I was bound to meet like minded people, and didn’t, and joined an internet Forum, and found people who love theatre, and culture, and cocktails, and clothes, and dressing up, and David Tennant and John Barrowman, just as much as I do.

It would therefore be wrong of me not to mention both Griffin, and Fox, here. If it hadn’t been for a certain reality tv show, and a forum, there is so much that I wouldn’t have done in the last ten years. My life might have been very different. I very much doubt it would have been better.

To everyone I've shared it with, thank you. There are some wonderful memories to look back on. I know that I can be high maintenance, and yes, obsessive (or, to use my word, enthusiastic) about things, but that's me, and I'm probably not going to change much now. Thank you for the laughter, for helping me through the tears, and just for being there. It means a lot.

At the start of the next decade, I do wonder what it will bring. I haven’t done as much acting as I would have liked, and my current work limits the opportunity, so that needs to change. I know I want to work nearer home, so that I can do more things outside work. I want to do more travelling, and, of course, I want to see lots and lots of theatre.

As someone once said (and there are no better words to end this) ‘Bring it On’.

'I don't want to go'

2010-01-02T11:03:00.005Z

(Huge spoiler alert, should anyone not have seen The End of Time yet)

The final words of the Tenth Doctor. I think many of us watching felt the same way. We’ve known it was coming since late October 2008, we’ve known who the new Doctor will be for almost a year, but finally, it’s here. We’ve been on one hell of a journey, but journey’s end for this Doctor seems to have come far too soon. They did well to save this for New Year’s Day, for it would have made for a miserable Christmas night.

As with many of RTD’s big epics, the real heart was in the small scenes, not the big set pieces, and credit has to go to Bernard Cribbins for simply breaking your heart as Wilf, old soldier, and staunch supporter, but, finally, the Doctor’s doom, because he couldn’t let a good man die.

The scenes where the Doctor revisited his companions for the last time were self indulgent, yes, but I’m prepared to forgive them that for the end of the story. Whilst I’m not sure it’s canon to be able to fit all this in before regenerating (just call me pedantic, ok?), it was also Russell’s farewell to the characters he had created.

His ‘reward’ was to change their lives, to save Martha and Mickey from the Sontarans, save Luke for Sarah Jane, provide Jack with a companion (and how perfect was it that it should be Alonso Frame from Voyage of the Damned), and give Donna a winning lottery ticket. He even visited the descendant of Joan Redfern, just to make sure she had been okay. His encounter with Rose was the most moving. He couldn’t resist seeing her one last time, but he had to go back to a time before they met, and she had no idea who he was, and would not even remember her encounter with a random ‘drunk’ at New Year. And then, finally, Ood Sigma appeared again with a promise that they would ‘sing him to his rest’. I can’t be the only person who had another play, and another performance, in my head at that point.

Thank you Russell, for all the story lines, the laughter, the tears, but most of all, thank you David Tennant for the most amazing dramatic performance on TV. I don’t have enough superlatives for just how good an actor you are.

The programme will return, with the Eleventh Doctor, Matt Smith. A good actor by all accounts, and of course I will watch, and will probably enjoy the programme. With Steven Moffatt at the helm, it has lots of potential. But isn’t he just a little bit too young, and how can he ever come close to the way that David could break your heart with just a look?

There is a tiny spark out there which reminds me that somewhere in an alternate universe there is a half human Doctor who will forever look like David, and will age as he does. Don’t try and tell me that this isn’t a possibility, for I remember The Five Doctors when all previous incarnations of the Doctor were brought together.

But for now, it’s time to bid a grateful, and tearful, farewell. Perhaps it isn’t inappropriate to borrow a few words which seem suitable for the occasion. He was ‘our’ Doctor and ‘(we) shall not look upon his like again’.

And a Happy Christmas to all my readers

2009-12-26T12:09:00.002Z

Hope you’ve had a good one, and that you got all that you wanted, and perhaps even a little bit more.

It was the first truly White Christmas for many years. I can’t remember when snow last lasted so long, but I guess it’s seasonal, and lovely as long as you don’t have far to travel. The photo is from last weekend, when the snow still looked pristine.

Yesterday was mostly spent eating, drinking and tv watching. I'm definately going to need to get out there walking in the New Year, as my Christmas dress was, frankly, 'snug'.

Enjoy the rest of the holiday season, and I'll see you on here soon.

And now, the end is here

2009-12-18T09:59:00.004Z

I’ve just listened to the final Wake Up To Wogan, and, truth be told, I’m feeling a bit emotional.

Yes, it was a little self indulgent in its music choices, and as the team around him finally got to say ‘thank you’, but if he couldn’t do that on his last show, when could he. His final speech to his listeners brought tears to my eye.

As a broadcaster, he seems to have been around my whole life. I finally migrated to the Radio 2 Breakfast Show when Chris Evans* took over on Radio 1, as I couldn't stand him. At first it seemed like an admission that I was getting older, but I soon realised what I'd been missing.

What he does seems so simple, and yet is so skilful. He’s put a smile on my face so many times on my drive to work, even on the bleakest of days. I have laughed out loud, often just at the fact that he is laughing so much. The humour is always gentle, and never bitter, the mocking affectionate. I have sometimes remained in the car after arriving at my destination, just to hear the end of a ‘Janet and John’ story.

And then there’s the music. Artists that otherwise we’d probably never have heard of. Eva Cassidy, Beth Nilsson Chapman (not to mention Katie Mehlua).

Over the years I have laughed, and occasionally cried, with him. I know he will be back in the New Year with a Sunday show, but it truly is the end of an era.

Thank you, and farewell, Togmeister!

*How strange it is that I now love his drivetime show and that he is the one who will be taking over in January, and. He’s mellowed with age.

Meeting the Military

2009-12-09T18:23:00.001Z

It all began when we saw the Robin Hood’s Bay Victorian Weekend advertised when we were in Scarborough. It had the magic words ‘visitors are encouraged to come in costume’, so we were sold. It turns out it’s the 16th year – how come I haven’t known about this before?

Of course, encouraging people to dress up doesn’t mean they will. But being aware that this could turn into another ‘Pirates at WYP’ event, where the only people in costume were us and the cast, wasn’t likely to put us off. Give me a costume, and I’m in character.

The selection of costumes available was a bit limited, as there is a bit of a rush on Victoriana come Christmas-time, so I ended up wearing the same skirt that I’d worn in the play, and its matching jacket*, with ‘Lady Bracknell’s’ hat, and a short velvet cape. J chose the pin stripe suit last seen on Cat’s lady archaeologist at the murder mystery.

Arriving in the car park on Saturday morning, there was a distinct lack of Victorians around. I shrugged my shoulders, put my hat on, and we headed for a coffee shop, which was advertising a Victorian quiz. The staff were in costume, but no one else was. Hmmm!

As we walked down the hill into the village, we finally spotted some other people in costume. Yes, some of the costumes were a bit Am Dram chorus (what? I’m a theatre snob!), but at least they had made an effort.

After that the Victorians were everywhere. What we found is that people in costume are quite happy to talk to other people in costume. Most couldn’t believe that we’d not been before, yet had actually turned up in costume. I won a bottle of wine on the tombola (oh yes!), which I then had to carry round, and which caused quite a few comments.

We encountered a couple of soldiers outside the pub. They explained that they came every year, hired a cottage for the weekend, and brought a range of different costumes. They told us how they’d researched their costumes, hey, they’d even grown the authentic facial hair. What’s not to love?

We spent a wonderful few hours, taking photos, posing for photos, and pitying those who were too bashful to dress up. We went round the open houses, most of which were beautiful holiday cottages.

Of course, this all just set my mind racing. A weekend, spent in costume, in a lovely little cottage, with pubs and cafes to hand. I know what I want to do next December. Anyone want to join me?

*Yes, I did complain that it wasn’t quite in period

What a difference a day makes

2009-12-07T16:42:00.003Z

From this:

To this:

but you know what else is different? I'm actually smiling on both pictures, even the one where I'm in the wind, rain , and mud (though still with my handbag). Now that's progress.

(Coming soon, the tale of my 'dressing up' day)

100 Days: Day 1

2009-12-02T12:57:00.004Z

Yes, I know technically it was yesterday, but as I worked all day, I didn't actually get round to reading my first poem till 20 to midnight. So, it had to be a short one. Don't worry, I'm not going to post them all up on here.

I have quite a selection available, having gone a bit mad in Borders* on Saturday. One of the books I bought was an anthology of poetry, with a poem for each day of the year. Looking through, I clearly have a cursory knowledge of a lot more poems than I'd realised, as many are, if not exactly familiar, at least ones with familiar phrases. Or maybe it's just that I collect quotations.

I started at the poem for 1 December. It was the one which begins 'I must go down to the sea again', already slightly familiar, so perhaps later, if I'm struggling for inspiration. I turned to the beginning of the book. For 2 January, there was a poem by Wendy Cope, who was recommended by Shona, so I was able to tick off both an unfamiliar poet, and a recommendation.

Bloody Men

Bloody men are like bloody buses -
You wait for about a year
And as soon as one approaches your stop
Two or three others appear.

You look at them flashing their indicators
Offering you a ride.
You're trying to read the destinations,
You haven't much time to decide.

If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.
Jump off, and you'll stand there and gaze
While the cars, the taxis and the lorries go by
And the minutes, the hours, the days.

by Wendy Cope

It seemed kind of apt.

I liked her style, and I think I'll read more, and you can't say fairer than that for a start.

*How gutted am I that Borders has gone into administration? I love a bookshop, and can spend hours in there. Buying books on line is ok when you know what you want, but the sheer joy of browsing and discovering books you didn't know about is something that should not be lost.

Strictly Update

2009-11-25T09:59:00.002Z

Yes, I’ve been a bit quiet on the Strictly front this year, haven’t I? Probably because it’s *whispers* a bit boring this year.

For the first few weeks I watched, trying to find my favourite. No one sprang out from the start, not like other years. Then Jade and Ian danced their Viennese Waltz, and I vocalised that I thought I’d found my favourites (well, Ian always had a bit of a head start). I even voted for them one week, after they’d landed in the bottom two. I also decided that I had a very soft spot for Chris and Ola, because whilst they’re not the best dancers, they are just so cute.

Then there was last week, with its catalogue of disasters. It’s almost like Brucie’s absence put a jinx on the whole thing. Firstly we had Jade’s knee injury, and then Laila’s ankle, (which I’m thinking may have actually saved her, as the thought of a romantic rhumba with Anton frankly makes me feel a bit queasy).

There was then a week of will Jade/won’t Jade be able to dance. I felt so sorry for her when they finally had to pull out, as the poor girl was clearly absolutely gutted, and almost too upset to speak. And then it all got just a little bit dull, as they were really the only ones who were seriously challenging the ‘top two’.

We’re now down to 5 couples, with 4 weeks to go which means, barring a rule change by the BBC*, we’ll have a two person final again, and the judges will get to decide one of the final two. I can’t see it being anything other than the Hollyoaks Twins, Ricky and Ali. Both are good dancers, but oh so dull. Brian, I quite like (faint praise there), Ricky’s partner, Natalie, I can’t bear**

Now, a Natalie Cassidy/Chris final, that might be fun! Sadly it won’t happen.

*Like they’ve never done that before, have they?
** I was with Len on ‘Liftgate’. It would have been appropriate in a final showdance, not in the American Smooth.

‘Do not go gently into that good night…’*

2009-11-23T16:30:00.004Z

Spoiler Alert – Just in case anyone hasn’t seen The Waters of Mars yet (plus, if you don't watch Doctor Who, it won't make a great deal of sense)

It’s been over a week, and I’ve not said anything about The Waters of Mars. I think that’s partly because of where they took the Doctor in this programme.

The advance blurb about this episode said that it was ‘the scariest Who’ yet, but for the first 45 minutes, I wasn’t convinced. I should have realised that this was a classic piece of RTD’s mis-direction. The scary thing wasn’t the ‘water creatures’ (who, whilst a skilful make-up job, weren’t actually that frightening, though the gradual infiltration of the base by the water was very tense), it was the Doctor himself.

A classic ‘base under siege’ tale, it had a number of similarities to Utopia, where the real focus of the episode only became apparent towards the end. For much of this, the Doctor was an observer, so much so that you wondered when he would actually do something. He actually walked away, to leave them to their fates. It was the ‘right’ thing to do, and yet it felt wrong.

And then, he didn’t. If anyone (still) needs proof that DT is the best TV actor of today, then the last 10 minutes prove it. Again, it was in his eyes, as much as in his actions. He looked dangerous, and the power of the Time Lord to save those who shouldn’t be saved was indeed scary. There really was no one to stop him, and this time, he wasn’t going to stop himself. I love the way that they have pushed the boundaries with DT’s Doctor, taking the character to places that he’s never been before.

The final scene, in the snow, as he confronted the reality of what he had become, and where it had taken him, was mind blowing. There is only one end to this journey now, but it’s been one hell of a ride.

*Not a quote from the episode, but from DT describing the Doctor’s actions in ‘Confidential’

The Hundred Days

2009-11-23T14:58:00.005Z

Thanks to Corinne, I was made aware of One Hundred Days To Make Me A Better Person. Well, I guess we could all do with a bit of that, so I wondered what I could sign up for.

I wanted to find something which would give me a challenge, with an element of self improvement, but also something which, if I'm honest, I have a chance of sticking to, even on those days where work takes over.

The other week I had to admit to myself that I've never read the Complete Works of Shakespeare, at least not all of the Sonnets, and the longer poems, (and this was in the face of the fact that I have two friends who have read the whole of the Bible!), so my first thought was that I would challenge myself to read the rest of the poems.

But to be frank, this was a bit too easy. As I'd started thinking about poetry, I then began to think about all the poets and poems I've never read. Romantic poets, modern poets, there are so many out there. And this had the right element of self improvement. I may decide that I like some poets and not others, but I will be expanding my knowledge.

So, my pledge is, from 1 December, for one hundred days, I will read a new poem every day. I am open to suggestions as to what, or who, I should read (otherwise you just know the 20th Century isn't going to get much of a look in, apart from when I decide to read a few poems about cats), just please don't anyone suggest that I read the whole of The Prelude in a day. A couple of pages long please, at most.

I'll let you know what I discover, who I like (and who I don't), and how I get on.

'How many ages hence shall this our lofty scene be acted o'er, in states unborn, and accents yet unknown'

2009-11-16T16:29:00.009Z

One day, and 200 miles later, and I was in Newcastle for the evening performance of Julius Caesar at the Theatre Royal. Setting aside the annoying children* in the row in front of us, who fidgeted throughout, and were distracting until I was fully gripped by the performance, I really enjoyed Lucy Bailey’s production.

It's a play which, every time I see it, makes me reflect on what it says about war, and the nature of man. Very modern in so many ways. I think this production would have gripped me even more in the Courtyard Theatre, where the audience would have ‘become’ the citizens of Rome that Brutus and Mark Antony appeal to, wrapped around the thrust stage. The actors had to work harder in a proscenium arch theatre to involve the audience, and it too a while to get into it.

I really liked Greg Hicks’s Caesar, as he captured the hubris of the man. This Caesar was a danger to the republic because he was still climbing the greasy political pole, whereas I have seen Caesars in the past who were doddery old men.

Bailey used projection of crowds onto screens at the back of the stage, mingled with the actors, to represent the people of Rome, and whilst effective I felt that sometimes this was used too much.

The conspirators were a nervy bunch, almost afraid to carry out their plan. The murder itself was gripping; whilst knowing what was to happen, it made you hold your breath. The speeches after the murder were even more so, with Brutus’s fatal error in allowing Mark Antony to speak to the crowd turning them from supporters of the conspirators to a pack baying for their blood.

I loved Darrell D’Silva’s portrayal of Mark Antony as a fleshy boozer of a man, who was devastated by the murder of Caesar and in his performance you could easily see the seeds of what the character becomes in Antony and Cleopatra. You could already see the antagonism between him and Octavious, uneasy allies against the conspirators. D'Silva will play Antony in the later play next summer, and I'm quite excited by the prospect.

As the chief conspirators, Sam Troughton’s Brutus and John Mackay’s Cassius (definitely ‘lean and hungry’) missed some of the depth of the relationship between the two, perhaps because Mackay’s Cassius was a master manipulator of his friend.

Troughton’s Brutus was much younger than usual, which made it difficult to understand why the other conspirators should defer to him, and be so keen to have his support. Yet his performance as the good and noble man, trying to do what he felt was right for the state, yet constantly making the wrong decision, moved me, and I found myself in tears at his death.

I felt it was a much stronger production than Twelfth Night, not relying on 'stunt casting'. Perhaps some of the choices didn't always work, but they were always more interesting than those made by Doran.

*Who would take two young girls to Julius Caesar? It’s not the best way to introduce them to Shakespeare, and they were clearly bored to tears.

I have been called obsessive about Shakespeare…

2009-11-11T11:34:00.003Z

But to me, it seems entirely reasonable to see two plays by the RSC, in two days, in two different parts of the country over two hundred miles apart. If the opportunity presents itself, take it.

It started with us booking to see the RSC Julius Caesar in Newcastle, part of their annual residency in the city. I wanted to see this production, as it was directed by Lucy Bailey, who also directed the rather fabulous (and fabulously gory) production of Titus Andronicus which we saw at the Globe a couple of years ago. In that she’d struck me as quite an exciting director.

Then work decided at the last minute to send me to a conference in Bromsgrove. The last time this happened, in Spring, well, there was only one outcome. When I’m only 20 miles away, how can I resist? It all depended whether there were any tickets left for Twelfth Night. A quick check on line found two single tickets remaining. One of them clearly had my name on it.

So last Thursday evening I found myself in the Courtyard Theatre settling down to watch Gregory Doran’s production of Twelfth Night. You may know that Doran isn’t one of my favourite directors. It was David Tennant’s performance as Hamlet that I loved, along with the ensemble, but I had issues about some of the directorial decisions.

This time, he’d also cast a couple of very well known TV actors, Richard Wilson and James Fleet, as Malvolio and Andrew Aguecheek, alongside some seasoned RSC performers*. Such casting puts ‘bums on seats’, but it doesn’t always work as brilliantly as it did with DT. I felt that this time it was less successful, and that both actors gave rather under-powered performances, and therefore much of the comedy was lost, particularly with Aguecheek.

By casting Malvolio as quite an elderly man, it did make him a sadder character than usual, his deluded belief that Olivia loves him drawing sympathy rather than humour at his pomposity being punctured. At the end, this wasn’t a man who would seek his revenge, and perhaps wisely, his last line was delivered after he had left the stage. I think I might have been tempted to cut it, as it seemed to work against the character.

The best performances for me were from Nancy Carroll as a charming, and witty Viola, Alexandra Gilbreath as an ageing Oliva, Jo Stone-Fewings as Orsino, and Richard McCabe as a gross and manipulative Toby Belch. All experienced RSC actors, and it showed.

The eastern Mediterranean setting was very reminiscent of Bill Alexander’s 1987 production, in both set and costumes, so that I frequently felt that I’d seen it all before.

Overall, it was enjoyable, without being in any way challenging. It was ‘comfortable’ Shakespeare, but I’m not sure that that’s what he should be. It took no risks, which I find to be one of the hallmarks of Doran as a director. I need the moments, either in production, or performance, which make me hold my breath, and this didn’t have them.

*Though I guess you could call Fleet the same, as I first saw him there back in the mid 80’s

Never knowingly underdressed

2009-11-11T10:07:00.001Z

I blame Laura Ashley, and their mid-season sale. I wasn’t looking for a new dress. Heaven knows, I hardly need one, yet how could I resist having a look. From looking, it’s only a short step from trying on, and from trying on, well, you know the rest.

Having bought the dress, it needed accessories. Now most of my accessories are black, but this dress really needed either blue or (even better) pink shoes. It also needed jewellery and/or a shrug (hey, it’s winter, and I feel the cold). Sadly, Laura’s let me down here. They did a little cardigan in just the right shade, but the sleeves were too long, and there were no matching shoes.

So last Wednesday, having planned a shopping day with L, we went round most of the shops in York, with me carrying the dress and trying to match it up. There’s lots of red, black and grey around, and quite a bit of sparkle too, so it’s hard not to get distracted, but I remained focussed.

I eventually found two pairs of shoes. Trying on one pair, which I eventually bought, the assistant looked at me matching them the dress:

‘Ah, it’s obviously for an event’

What could I say?

This seems such a good idea, it's surprising no one else has thought of it

2009-11-09T15:39:00.003Z

The last time we went to the theatre in Newcastle, we discovered Starters and Puds, just over the road from the Theatre Royal, and couldn't understand why others hadn't thought of this. A menu consisting of 'starters' (actually probably more like tapas style dishes), side orders, and puds, with can be ordered at the same time.

So as soon as we had decided to go and see the RSC in Newcastle, the next thought was 'and we can go to Starters and Puds'. Given the distance we had to travel, the plan was to have our starter pre-performance, and our pud post-show. A brilliant way to avoid the pre-theatre indigestion which I tend to induce in people with my anxiety not to be late.

We were a bit surprised to get there and be told that owing to some mix up with the licensing, they actually couldn't serve any alcohol, so I was despatched to the off licence round the corner, and returned with a very acceptable bottle of chilled pinot grigio.

The food was lovely, and we pre-ordered our puds to return to them after the show, as the kitchen would have closed by then. That's Shakespeare for you, you pretty much only just get out in time for last orders. It also caused a bit of a quandary, as, as we were leaving the theatre they announced there was to be a post-show talk back with the actors. Now, I wouldn't walk away from that very often, and was very torn. But pud was calling, and, what's more, it was paid for. I'm not Yorkshire for nothing.

It was quite delicious too. I'm now wondering what else I can go and see at the Theatre Royal?

'No one's ever going to forget you'

2009-11-02T10:24:00.005Z

Although Corinne got there before me, I too had to write about the Doctor's appearance in The Sarah Jane Adventures. Partly because we all know what's coming, partly because I will cry at Chrsitmas, and also partly to mark the fact that it's a year since we saw DT give the most amazing performance as Hamlet.

The few moments at the end of the episode once again proved what an amazing actor he is. Often his finest moments are those when he doesn't speak. It's there in his eyes. Great acting.

Yes, I cried.

Post walk post-mortem

2009-10-31T17:03:00.001Z

‘Did you enjoy the walk on Sunday?’

The rant starts. About the pace, about the fact that we saw a shop, and a couple of pubs, but never got the chance to test them out.

‘That walk was a doddle. You didn’t get left behind, did you? We’ll soon get you fit!’

What he doesn’t seem to grasp is that, for me, I am fit, or, as fit as I’m ever likely to be. I’ve heard this so many times in the past, though it must be said, not recently. It’s the same as the incredulous looks you get when you say that you don’t like sport, and more specifically, certainly don’t want to play any sport. How can anyone actually think that, the look seems to say, it must just be a case of finding the ‘right’ sport.

I try again. ‘I am fit. And you’re missing the point. I don’t want to walk like that. I want to stop, to take photos, to pop into a shop and a café if I feel like it. I’ll still walk, but there’ll be things to enjoy’.

I can see he doesn’t get it. Later on there is talk of badminton. ‘What about you, will you play?’

I give him a look.

‘Ah!’

A Tale of Two Walks

2009-10-28T23:10:00.002Z

I did a lot of walking at the weekend. Two separate walks, one with the ladies walking group, and one with Spice. I'll let you to decide which one suited me more

Walk 1

‘I think I’ve successfully subverted you’

We’re sitting in a tea shop in Helmsley, our second of the day. We’ve just completed the 6 miles from Helmsley to Rievaulx and back, the return being in almost unremitting rain. The rain has soaked us through in a way which isn’t particularly attractive. However, we have agreed that we’re intrepid, as it no longer phases us, (‘well, we either have to walk back, or stay here’), we’re planning future events, which, it has to be said, revolve around food, as well as walking.

I explain. ‘When we started walking, and I said I was going shopping at the end of the walk, you all gave me funny looks. Now, we always fit in tea shops, and also other shops’.

I find myself explaining the concept of the Handbag Walker. They all agree that it is an untapped market, and that there are a lot of people just like us who want to walk, but who are not serious walkers. Who just want to take their time, look round, take photos, stop when they feel like it, or when there is a convenient shop, tea room or pub. We get the exercise, but it’s fun.

Walk 2

‘The most important thing to have brought with you on a Spice Walk is your sense of humour’.

I always worry when someone says that, as it usually means that they don’t have one.

It was with some trepidation that J and I signed up for our first Spice walk a few weeks ago. Ever since I joined, I’ve looked at their walks and thought that they were too ‘serious’ for me. They class 10 miles and more, with hills, as ‘moderate’. But I’d spoken to a few people, and they’d said that they weren’t too difficult, so when I saw a Grade 4 (‘easy’) walk of 7 miles without hills advertised, I decided it was time to sign up and give it a go.

It started from a car park in Wetherby. We didn’t make a great beginning, by nearly joining the wrong walk. We’d gathered with the group going on the Wetherby Civic Walk. It was the number of handbags which gave it away. Later there were a few times we wished we’d stuck with them.

I think I knew from the start really. By the time we were crossing the road out of the car park, we were at the back of the bunch. It was very hard going, and tailored more to the walking speed of the men, which, given at least 75% of us were women, didn’t seem quite right. The pace didn’t slacken as we walked down the track of a disused railway. It was pretty, but there was no time to stop and take photos. First we walked across to Stockeld Park, which had just opened it’s Christmas World. But no, we couldn’t stop.

I asked the leader if I could have a look at the map, so that I could see where we were walking. Not only was there an attitude which suggested surprise that I could read a map, but an almost allergic reaction to my purple and silver sparkly nail varnish.

Eventually, we reached Sicklinghall, by the village pond.

‘We’re breaking for lunch now. You can eat your sandwiches here. There is a pub up the road, which also has a shop. We have half an hour.’

J and I were off, to the pub, which proved to be quite a distance (‘that’s just added another half mile’), so that we only had time for a drink, and no food. We were both knackered by this point.

Continuing after lunch (a packet of crisps in my case), my pace slackened, as I just couldn’t keep it up. By the end, I had given up any pretence of enjoyment, and had got progressively more subversive as it went on. We couldn’t wait to see the car park.

Having passed yet another pub (where we didn’t stop), and a Spa Hotel which was offering afternoon tea, when we finally saw the tea room at the entrance to the car park, we were off, sending a message that we’d gone.

It was advertised as 7 miles. Given that we know our average walking speed, and that the pace was faster than we’d normally walk, I’d say it was more like 9. I ached more than I did after the Ribbon Walk.

Unfortunately, we have already booked another one, in a couple of week’s time. I’m already worried.

I leave it to you to judge which of the walks was more ‘me’.

On underplaying things

2009-10-19T22:07:00.002+01:00

‘Where’s ‘wibbly-wobbly gate’? Dean asks, ‘the one on the postcards’.

‘You mean Whip-Ma-Whop-Ma-Gate’ I reply. ‘I’ll take you there’.

So on Sunday, as we’re in town I decide to include it in the tour, warning ‘don’t get your hopes up’. I smile to myself, as I sort of know what’s coming.

We walk down Colliergate, and I pause at the end. ‘Are you ready?’ and I step forward, ‘there’.

Dean looks around ‘what?’

‘Here we are’. I point to some junction markings a few yards ahead. ‘From here, to that junction. That’s Whip-Ma-Whop-Ma-Gate’. I also point to the frankly tatty road sign proclaiming the name. It consists of a concrete building to the left, and a shop and church hall to the right.

His face is a picture. I can almost see the rant forming. ‘They should have called it don’t-bother-Gate’. I can't help but laugh.

‘Are you sure you don’t want a photo with the street sign?’

On eating out

2009-10-14T13:54:00.004+01:00

Owing to needing to regularly stay over for work, I get to eat out a lot in Liverpool, probably more than I do in York. Hope Street has become a bit of a favourite. It’s got a cathedral at each end, a theatre*, a concert hall, a rather swish hotel, numerous restaurants and a rather elaborate pub. It’s also very close to the University, so is full of student and arty types. I guess you could say I feel at home there.

We’re trying all the various restaurants as we go along, and particular new favourite is HoSt, which does ‘fusion’ food. We had a fabulous meal there the other week, and it has to be admitted, the staff are both very attentive, and very cute, which is an added bonus.

I tend to sign up for emails at the various restaurants, so that I receive their special offers. As we usually eat out mid-week, there are often some good deals available.

So when I received an offer from HoSt, we agreed that we must go again, and started to discuss the food, waxing lyrical about the food, and specifically the corn fritters with chilli caramel (honestly, they’re divine!).

C reflects, ‘I must try and work out how to make them, it can’t be that difficult’

I smile. ‘That’s one of the differences between us. You think about making things you’ve eaten in a restaurant at home. I just think ‘when can I go again?’

*A theatre which we keep saying we must go to, only it continuously seems to be performing Pinter!

I know it's a little early to be thinking of the tour, however...

2009-10-12T16:52:00.002+01:00

You may recall that I went to see the Strictly Live Tour *cough* three times *cough* earlier this year. I did wonder if I would want to see the next tour, and mused that it would depend if someone caught my eye in the current series.

Today, I was looking on the website, mainly to see when the DVD is out (on my Christmas list, people), and clicked on the link for the 2010 tour, just to see if any names were there as yet, but thinking it was far too early in the season. Also, I still don’t have a favourite.

Looking at who’s there already, I think I may just have been swayed. Austin Healey, another great dancer who didn’t make the final and… Mark Ramprakash!

Now, where's that credit card...?

I've got a ticket for Mecca Bingo, baby!

2009-10-12T16:32:00.000+01:00

Yes, hard to believe isn’t it, but it’s true, I’m now a member of Mecca Bingo. With irony, of course. We’ve talked for a long time about going, given it’s at the end of J’s street, but it took a sub-Spice* trip to actually get us there.

8 of us piled in at about quarter to 7 on a Sunday evening. I think I was a bit over dressed. Nothing new there then.

‘Are any of you members?’ asked the lady on the desk, to be met with a negative. 8 bingo virgins was clearly a concept she struggled with, and she had to call for her manager.

Next thing we knew, Rob had appeared. I have to say he knew his job, and in the time it took to get us signed on, upstairs, and to the tills, he’d managed to extract £14 from each of us for an evening’s games. All we’d got for this was a ‘dabber’. He then proceeded to rattle through how the games worked. Now, I thought it was just about getting a line, and shouting. Oh no! If you don’t shout before the next number is called, you’ve lost your chance. It also seemed that you play about 5 cards at once. It all felt a bit much for my numerically challenged brain!

We found some seats at the edge of the room, and quickly discovered that bingo is not a particularly sociable activity, as you can’t chat whilst a game is being played. In fact, you can’t do much else than keep your eyes on the cards, scanning the numbers and trying to keep up. It didn’t help that one of the callers had a bit of a speech impediment**, so sometimes wasn’t very clear.

By the first break, none of us had won a thing. You’d think with 8 of us, and so many cards between us, we’d have had a bit of beginners luck, but no.

By the second break, still without success, it was starting to get old very quickly. Having had two (admittedly cheap) drinks, I was starting to think about what else I could have bought with my £20. I would never make a gambler, as I hate not getting anything back for my money.

By the end of the evening, not one of us had won a thing. I think you can assume we won’t be rushing back, even though my membership card has now arrived in the post!

* I tend to refer to them as ‘subversive Spice’, so this is their new name on here
**You’d think clear speech would be part of the job spec!

Where I discover once again that I don't have a lot in common with the people I work with

2009-10-05T11:15:00.001+01:00

I did a lot of interviewing last week. 3 days of it. Some candidates didn’t turn up, and didn’t have the courtesy to let us know they weren’t coming, so there was some hanging around waiting, and making conversation with colleagues. The thing about work is that usually we’re so busy, we don’t actually talk to each other, not about anything other than work that is.

At one point, I find myself chatting to our medical director, who tells me that he was in Stratford last week, and went to the theatre. At least he knows enough about me to know I like theatre.

‘Oh, what did you see?’
‘As You Like It.’
‘What did you think?’

‘I really liked the theatre. As for the play, well, I have seen it before, many years ago, but I did find it hard going, trying to work out what they were saying.
We left at the interval’

I can’t actually say anything, as I’m gaping rather.

‘Well, I look at it this way. I’d enjoyed it up to that point, and felt that I’d seen enough. If I’d have stayed, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it so much. And, after all, I have seen it before.’

‘I have my shocked face on, don’t I?’

'Just learn your lines and don't bump into the furniture'

2009-10-02T12:21:00.004+01:00

After months of working towards it, we actually performed ‘the play’ to the paying public last weekend. Whilst we have rehearsed over a long period, the rehearsals have been very occasional, only every other week or so, up to the last month. It’s not enough, and by a couple of weeks before I was feeling very under-rehearsed.

Our ‘dress’ had been more of a technical rehearsal, but had also demonstrated that quite a lot of us were shaky on lines. We planned a pre-performance speed run, which also had quite a few problems, with K and I totally drying in our first scene together. I have some very quick costume changes – of character and of time period – from 1913 to 1951 and back again in the space of a scene change, and until the day of the performance I hadn’t been able to rehearse with full costume and props.

All went ok until the middle of Act 2.

I start Act 2 as ‘Shirley’, 1950’s bar maid, complete with tight skirt and red stilettos. I finish that scene, and almost immediately come back on as 1913 suffragette. As I dashed back on, E hissed ‘in the performance, can you remember to change your shoes!’ I looked down to realise that my suffragette was very visibly still wearing the bar maid’s red shoes.

As the audience began to fill the seats, we hoped they were feeling generous, as it was quite a nervous cast who gathered ‘back stage’*. It was a relief to see that we had a full audience, as weather was lovely, and we had picked up some of the day visitors.

As it turned out, the performance went much better than the run through. There were a few shaky moments, where people were reaching for lines, and apparently two pages were missed out of one scene, but as the rest of the cast didn’t spot it, I doubt that audience did. In one scene the actor playing opposite me and I swapped lines, but we got through it.

It ran much more quickly than we’d expected, as we'd never managed a full run without stopping before, and very quickly, we were at the last scene, and then the curtain call. As we stood waiting to go back on, one of my fellow cast members whispered ‘this is my favourite bit’.
‘What?’
‘The end. It means we’ve got through it!’

I knew how she felt. I know it still needs a lot of work, I know we (I) could be so much better, but I also remember how terrifying, and how exhilarating, performance is, and why I love it so.

Here’s to the next performance, in a little over two weeks time. Now, where did I put those lines?

*Given that we were performing in a medieval castle, there wasn’t actually a backstage area

The start of the Strictly season

2009-10-02T11:45:00.001+01:00

Summer is over, there are a few golden days with clear blue skies but there’s already a distinct nip in the air up north. Nights are drawing in, so it’s time to snuggle down on the sofa with Strictly on a Saturday night, and It Takes Two during the week.

Only this year, it’s a bit different. They started with two weekly shows, on a Friday and Saturday evening, allowing all the contestants to dance ballroom and Latin before there is a vote. This seems fair to me, as many people, particularly in the early stages, are better at one style (or, rubbish at both!). They’ve also ditched the Sunday night results show, which I’m pleased about, as I never liked it, though it does now mean that the time scale for voting is pretty short – no chance to influence what happens to your favourite if you happen to be out during the show. At least they don’t have to remember to pretend that people danced ‘last night’ any more, and no one can spoil the result for you, as long as you can watch it live (which I haven’t managed to do as yet!).

The biggest controversy, of course, is the replacement of Arlene with Alesha. Now, I like Alesha, and she was a worthy winner, but she hardly has the dance credentials to pass judgement on others. Sadly this has been all too obvious so far, and I’m not sure her presence on the panel will do her, or the show, much good.

We also have some new female dancers. Camilla was ‘retiring’ anyway after winning, but Karen has also gone (and would, I think, have made a good judge, from her comments on ITT) as well as the unlamented Hayley who danced last season. The ‘new girls’ remind me of the over tanned, and over made up, partners on DWTS, the American version of the show.

We’ve seen everyone dance now, and so far I don’t really have a favourite. For the first couple of weeks, everyone looks so terrified that it’s difficult to see how they will develop. There is some talent there, but I haven’t singled anyone out. Chris Hollins surprised me, in actually being quite good, and funny, Phil Tufnell also surprised with an elegant waltz, and they actually seem to have given Anton a partner who can dance this year, in Laila Rouass. They’ve given Brendan Jo Wood, who can’t, and won’t be there for long.

Despite all the claims that ‘this is the most challenging Strictly yet’, so far it doesn’t look like a vintage season. But it’s early days.

Watch this space.

On visiting the Louvre

2009-09-11T10:09:00.004+01:00

It’s taken three visits to Paris, but finally I’ve made it into the Louvre

My first impression is that it’s huge. The National Gallery seems rather small and paltry beside it. The next issue is how do you find your way around it? Thankfully, the plans and the directions are pretty good (though I do get lost at one point in early French painting).

I’m pleased that we don’t really have to queue for very long. Like so many others, we head for the Italian Renaissance, and the Mona Lisa, first, on the basis that it will only get busier as the day goes on.

On the stairs, we find the Winged Victory of Samothrace. In the galleries, crowds gather round the famous Leonardo’s, whilst other pictures have no one. In the Mona Lisa room, it’s all a little crazy. Hordes of tourists, all trying to get the best camera angle. You can’t get close, she’s behind both a barrier and glass. More of an icon than a painting these days.

I don’t linger. I prefer David’s Coronation of Napoleon. I also love the Botticelli’s, the Titian’s, Caravaggio’s and Canaletto’s. Generally, I realise, I prefer Italian art to French, though there is gallery after gallery of paintings by artists I’ve never heard of, practically deserted, because so many of the visitors do only the edited highlights (or, worse, the Da Vinci Code trail*).

There’s a whole room of paintings by Rubens telling the (fantasised) life story of Marie de Medici. I’m fascinated by this, as not only does is sum up the Ancien Regime, but the coronation picture is almost an exact fore-runner of the David picture from almost 200 years later.

Before we leave, I have to find the Venus de Milo. On my last visit, I climbed on a stone bench, and caught a glimpse of her through the window. It’s quite a trek, and we pass many antique sculptures, and also many of Napoleon as a Roman Emperor. He wasn’t a man who went in for modesty, I’m guessing.

Finally, we find her. Even incomplete, she’s impressive, and it’s quite incredible to think how ancient she is.

*Useless to me, as I’ve never read it, and am not likely to now, as I know the ending!

Conversation openers

2009-09-06T12:58:00.004+01:00

Chatting to new people can be difficult. You remember the social group I joined back in February? Well, it’s probably best to say it’s been a slow burner, which is another way of saying that I haven’t really had the time to get that involved in their events.

What tends to put me off is the fact that you have to book and pay up front, so if for any reason you can’t go (or, *whisper*, something better comes up), you might lose money. As a result I haven’t really got to know people at anything beyond a superficial level. Making new friends is hard work. It’s about discovering things you have in common. I quickly realise that my experiences/interests and those of others differ widely.

In the course of one evening, I find I’m:

· Saying that I find Morris dancers who have been roaming the town with painted faces a bit freaky, and finding that others don’t agree
· Trying to explain how Twitter works, and why it’s interesting to find out what Philip Schofield is doing
· Defending Facebook as a method of communication – if you use it properly!
· Leaving the question ‘why did you join?’ hanging in the air.
· Trying to find an adequate response to the query ‘couldn’t you find anything closer to home?’ when I say that I work in Liverpool
· Discussing just how many of the pubs of York I haven’t visited (quite a few actually, believe it or not), and that whilst I haven’t been thrown out of any of them, I have been asked to leave quite a few*
· Defending the wondrous venue which is the Evil Eye against the shocking allegation that it’s a ‘den of iniquity’ as ‘they sell absinthe**!’

They are generally nice, and friendly, people. It’s just that at the moment it feels like quite hard work. I am going to try and persevere, particularly as Autumn is approaching, and at the very least it will get me out of the house.

*Because they wanted to close, I hasten to add.
**well, yes, they do, but I’ve never been brave enough to try it.

Three nights in Paris

2009-09-01T12:18:00.004+01:00

We look at each other’s suitcases. There’s quite a difference in size. ‘I’ve been minimalist in my packing this time’, I say. V looks at me in amazement. ‘But it’s Val, ‘I sometimes change three times a day’, how have you got enough?’

I explain that I’d taken far too much to Provence, and had brought back things I hadn’t worn, so had gone for the minimal approach this time. What I don’t add is just how much of it is new stuff, for I have had a bit of a pre-Paris spending spree.

As it turns out, I have enough outfits, though I don’t have the hot weather outfits that I really need, as Paris turns out to be roasting hot. After my day of rain in Edinburgh, this turns out to be something of a shock. When you’ve travelled somewhere by train, it doesn’t feel that far away from home, yet even the air feels so much warmer. It’s the best weather I’ve ever known here.

We last went to Paris together 5 years ago. Every summer, we try and have a ‘culture’ break. For the last few years it’s been Edinburgh, so after two consecutive summers of pretty grim weather, this is a welcome change.

We’ve done most of the main tourist sights in the past, except the Louvre*, which is most definitely on the list this time, along with the Musee Rodin. We always go up to Montmartre, and walk by the river.

This time we’re staying just off the Champs Elysees, which turns out to be a perfect, if expensive, location.

My experiences of French food, after the struggles of Provence, are still a bit mixed. Breakfasts in the hotel are great – fabulous French bread, smoked salmon, ham, and preserves. Crepes make a great lunch, even though I have to avoid the ones with cream (I also have to avoid most of the squidgy cakes, as they almost all have cream). Dinner still proves more of a struggle, though I eat very well in Montmartre. A couple of other meals prove distinctly average, given the price of them. We do, however, find a fabulous little cocktail bar, so I make the most of the French wine and the Happy Hour cocktails.

We do find a fabulous little restaurant in the Palais Royale gardens for our last lunch. It’s full of Parisienne ‘ladies who lunch’, all immaculately groomed, rather than tourists. It suits us well.

*I once stood on a bench, and saw the Venus de Milo through a window. It’s not quite the same!

I used to do this for a living, sometimes I wish I still did

2009-09-01T11:03:00.003+01:00

I’m trying to sort out costumes for the play. We have NO budget, which makes things difficult. I borrowed a few things for our photoshoot last week, some of which weren’t quite of the right period, but when you haven’t got a bunch of stick thin actresses in your cast, you take what they can get into.

Having taken the photos, I realise that we’re not quite right on the date. The play is mainly set in 1913. Some of the costumes are too early. We also have a 1950’s section, which brings its own challenges. I had another trip to costume hire on Saturday. P and I are good at this, having worked together for three years.

‘I need 1913 – and definitely need a wig, my hair is totally wrong for the period’. We agree that I have ‘first refusal’ on the mother’s wigs from The Railway Children when they come back in.

‘I also need to be 1950’s bar maid’. This starts us off. ‘She’s a bit blowsy. I’m thinking early 50’s, pencil skirt rather than full, blouse, heels…’ We start fishing around. There are a few blouses of the right period, but not many that I can get into (‘bl***y actresses, why don’t they eat!’) I fancy red heels. Some are far too nice. I need a belt, so two whole boxes of belts come out.

P finds a beautifully tacky red patent one. It doesn’t match the shoes.

‘Perfect, I think she’s the sort of person who will try, but won’t get things quite right’.

Later I hit the charity shops for a skirt, and buy one a size too small, so that it will be tight. I think it’s going to work.

Phew!

2009-08-28T11:21:00.002+01:00

There was a point towards the end of July when I was looking at my diary for August and trying to plan something in. The first ‘free’ day I could spot, when I wasn’t already committed to something, or likely to be doing something, was today.

Somehow August has gone by in a blur of sun (well, in Paris, anyway), rain (Edinburgh!), theatre, holiday, days out, rehearsals, oh, and quite a bit of work as well. It's been fun. Exhausting at times, but fun (well, maybe not the work part, as that's been pretty tough, but all the more reason to do the good stuff). September seems to be shaping up to be more of the same, as I’m still really busy at work, and alongside that have even more rehearsals*, and theatre trips, to fit in.

At least I haven't had time to be bored. Or to do any house work! So one of my priorities this weekend is to have a bit of a catch up, a bit of a tidy, and maybe go for a walk. Best thing to do on bank holidays, I think, and this last summer bank holiday always seems a bit crazy, as everyone dashes out to catch the last of the summer before the schools go back.

*For we are performing this on 26 September and 17 October. Somewhere in the next few weeks I have to actually learn the lines

Theatre Snob's guide to a day at the Fringe

2009-08-16T16:40:00.004+01:00

In the interests of anyone thinking of a day trip to the Fringe, and following on from the Fringe guides I’ve written over the last couple of years, here are my tips:

1. Plan ahead. It is possible to get there in time for Shakespeare for Breakfast, but you need to get your tickets in advance, as the Fringe office doesn’t open in time to pick them up.

2. Where possible, select some shows with food (see Shakespeare for Breakfast, there are also shows which provide cake!) or take snacks with you. The Pleasance bar had sold out of crisps!!

3. Plan your venues, so you’re not chasing from Old Town to New Town and back again. I didn’t venture across to the New Town at all, and all my venues were within easy reach of each other.

4. Don’t queue for tickets at the Fringe Office. Most main venues have their own box office or internet access, so you can purchase tickets, or print out pre-booked ones, without queuing

5. Give yourself some breathing space. Smell the coffee, (and drink some too, with an early start, you’ll need the caffeine), even if you only have an hour between shows.

6. Absorb the atmosphere. Pleasance Courtyard/Pleasance Dome are great places to people watch. The Dome also has a good range of snacks, and has the added benefit of being indoors if wet. The wine can get watered down by the rain in the Courtyard!

7. Look around you. Tomorrow’s stars are here, as well as some of todays.

8. Chat. People are here because they love theatre/music/comedy/culture. So do you, so you already have things in common, and they may suggest a show you hadn’t thought of seeing.

9. Accept that things will clash/be full/be not logistically possible to see. Love seeing what you do. There’s always another year.

10. Have a large handbag – for snacks, brolly (sadly essential for the last few years), pashmina, and all the brochures, magazines and fliers you will undoubtedly pick up.

11. Travel home first class. It’s much more civilized and relaxing than standard class.

12. Finally, enjoy your day. And when you arrive home, think about next year!

All the World's a Stage (or, the whirligig of time*)

2009-08-09T22:22:00.003+01:00

We’d booked to see As You Like It at the Globe. I didn’t get there last year, so was determined to this year.

Before the performance, we’d come to the conclusion that they have a rather brilliant gift shop, and, according to Cat, very good chocolate brownies. I’d bought a rain cape, as the sky looked threatening, and then had a bit of a rant about the quotation on it**.

It was as we went in that I saw him on the piazza. I was almost sure, but not certain. I mean, it’s been years since I’ve seen him in the flesh, and he’s not exactly looking like himself in his currently most familiar role. When we went into the yard, I scanned around to see if I could see him. Cat must have wondered what I was on as I went on about how the wood had mellowed over the years, but I soon spotted him on the back row of one of the bays directly behind us. By this time I was pretty sure, for that profile is unmistakable, but I still sought Cat’s confirmation at the interval. Our first response was to Tweet this news!

I was only in the same theatre as Alan Rickman! Not only that, we were watching ‘As You’, which was the first play I ever saw him in. I’d been talking about that production earlier, as there was a photo from it in the programme. The Jaques on stage wasn’t a patch on his performance, the consensus being that this one was a bit sleazy.

At the end of the play we were out first, being groundlings, and were meeting Corinne. I rang her, knowing that she’d never forgive me if she missed him:

‘Where are you?’
‘By the river, near the gate’
‘You need to come towards the gate’
‘There’ll be a lot of people’
‘You need to come to the gate!’

By this time I was almost following him down the steps. Through the gate I spotted her, and dashed over, pointing him out as he headed in the other direction. There was a moment, a look, and an ‘oh my God!’

Later, I reflected in the weird theatrical circle which had brought us from that performance in Stratford all those years ago, to August 2009 at the Globe. For Alan was the start of my stage dooring. I’m not even sure I’d have done it without him (though I guess I’d have found another actor somewhere). I didn’t realise then what I was letting myself in for. I don’t think I’d change a bit of it though!

*Yes, wrong play, I know!
**According the Globe, ‘it falleth as the gentle rain from heaven’, according to all my texts, ‘it droppeth’. The Globe needs to find a quarto or an alternative text, or there may have to be words.

Like Edinburgh, with sun (or, shame about the language barrier)

2009-08-02T17:54:00.004+01:00

We spent a few nights in Avignon, home of the famous ‘Pont’, (or demi-Pont, as there’s not much left). Turns out it has an Arts Festival every July, with a Fringe that’s almost as big as Edinburgh.

As a result, the town was heaving with tourists, primarily French, as most of the shows were in French. There were lots of groups performing in the streets, and plenty of fliers to be had (and I maintained my rule of ‘always accept fliers from cute boys’). Problem was, their marketing didn’t really work when they tried to explain to me what the show was about, and I just looked blank. My very basic French wasn’t up to explanations of experimental theatre productions. I nodded and smiled a lot, trying not to indicate that I didn’t have a clue what they were saying.

We did want to see something, just to say that we had. We’d probably have been safer going for a physical piece, trouble was it was all a bit clown/Marcel Marceau/mime based, and I’m not really into that. We toyed with the idea of Moliere, as those companies seemed to have the best costumes, and even Shakespeare in French, as at least I’d understand the story, though that seemed rather wrong.

Eventually we decided on a comedy Barbershop Quartet show, as they chatted nicely to us (in English), and J sings barbershop. They also sang a few songs in English.

The performers were slick, and very skilled, and there was quite a bit of physical comedy which I could follow. What I followed, I enjoyed. I guess I didn't realise until this holiday just how rubbish my French is. A few words, and brief sentences doesn't equip you to follow a performance. I could have done with surtitles! What I missed were a lot of the jokes in the French songs, or, if I didn’t miss them, I mis-interpreted the joke.

Afterwards:
J: you know that bit where they were singing about the different musicians you meet on the Tube...
Me: oh, is that what it was, I thought they were just parodying different song styles.

The result was a quite a bit of this, as I had the jokes explained to me!

'The great Globe itself'

2009-08-01T23:52:00.002+01:00

We’ve been sitting drinking wine in the Anchor* pub on Bankside, complaining about the misleading information on their menus, which proclaim the pub to be on the site of the ‘original’ Globe Theatre.

‘Hmmm, only of the Globe was really huge’
‘Maybe it had a very big yard’
‘Actually, sitting here, we’d probably be in a brothel, or a bear pit’

There’s a further issue about the plays proclaimed to be ‘first performed’ at the Globe. Henry V, Richard II, ok.
‘Romeo and Juliet?! I don’t think so!’

Coza decides she needs to take me past the real site of the Globe on the way back to the station. It is a couple of streets back from the river, and adjacent to the Rose Theatre.

There’s not much to see. The ground has been marked out, but the majority of the theatre site is buried beneath a listed Georgian building. I look at it. It’s not an impressive building. You’d think they could have sacrificed it for the history beneath the stones.

‘Just think what could be down there’
‘Cardenio…, or perhaps Love’s Labour’s Won!’

Just for a moment, my mind drifts. The sense of history as I stand here is almost overwhelming. This was the centre of Elizabethan Theatre, and I’m in the footsteps of Will perhaps more than I ever am in Stratford. Never mind that who knows what I’d be standing in! THIS is where it happened.

*A pub with an orderly queue at the bar. Tourists!

I feel I’m rather letting my blog name down at the moment

2009-07-26T20:57:00.004+01:00

It isn’t that I’m not seeing theatre (though I’m not seeing as much as I would like to), it’s just that I’m not writing about it. I have written more about walking over the last few months than I have about theatre, and that’s rather shocking.

To bring you up to speed, I have seen the following:

Twelfth Night
Peer Gynt
Dido, Queen of Carthage
His Dark Materials Parts 1 & 2
Barbershop Quarter – an Avignon Festival Fringe show – in French!
Blood Brothers

Quite a mixed bag really, and all enjoyable in their own way. Twelfth Night was a YTR production, and was pretty good, though I didn’t like their Olivia. Peer Gynt was a National Theatre of Scotland production, but it was at the Barbican, and I wondered if once again the Barbican was going to be the theatrical pits. Thankfully, though not ‘my’ Peer, which is much more beautiful, there were a lot of things I liked, and ultimately it moved me. Dido I enjoyed, though as a play it’s clear from the writing that Marlowe* wasn’t Shakespeare (not even very early Shakespeare). Some good performances though. If this is all sounding a bit half hearted, well, none of the productions were standout.

I did really enjoy the two parts of His Dark Materials at West Yorkshire Playhouse. I hadn’t really liked the books and had stalled part way through the second one, so I came to a lot of it new. What stuck me was that it’s a very complicated story. As with most alternate universe stories, there’s a lot to take in, as you can’t rely on the natural order of things to carry you through, also, the names can be difficult to remember. The other problem with any fantasy story is, of course, how do you stage it? This one has an ‘armoured bear’, and I’d never actually worked out what one of those was in the books, never mind what it might look like on stage.

They actually did it very well, though I felt Part 2 worked much better than Part 1. It was definitely a production where you needed to see both parts – a potential problem in Leeds, as there were considerably more performances of Part 1.

As for the last two, well, one is coming up in my ‘holiday blog’, and the other is a whole other story.

*Though it is equally very clear that Shakespeare knew the play, and ripped off some of the ideas mercilessly for Hamlet. It’s a good job Marlowe was dead by then, as Will did it all so much better

Travels with a Mercedes*

2009-07-25T20:55:00.005+01:00

This year, we hired a car. It was something of an experience, being, of course, left hand drive, and a diesel. I volunteered to drive it from the airport. There was a great deal of cursing and swearing and gnashing of teeth as I tried to find the gears.

It was fine on the motorways, but driving round some of the towns was a bit of a challenge, particularly as we seemed to go round Aix at least 3 times trying to find the hotel. After that, J drove, and got used to it, and quite enjoyed it, so I became the navigator, with my ‘super map’. This was also a challenge at times, as the French tend to be a bit sparing with their signage, and you have to work out where a road might be signed to, which probably isn’t the place you’re trying to get to. Again, towns were a bit of a problem.

Then of course, we had to work out how to put fuel in. We could find the fuel cap, that was obvious. But how did we open it? It didn’t help that all the instructions were in French.

‘What’s French for petrol, or petrol tank?’
‘Not sure’
‘There’s usually a little lever somewhere inside the car’
‘The one in my car has a little drawing of a petrol pump on it’

We looked at all the buttons and switches. There was a distinct lack of anything with a pump on it, though there was lots of other buttons.

After a few days, we’d got down to a quarter of a tank of fuel, so we really needed to work this out. Back to the instruction books. Finally, in the back, I found a picture of the fuel cap.

‘Right, where does it say the button is?’
‘It doesn’t, look’ (There was nothing on the diagram to indicate how you open it)

Once again, we searched the car looking for the elusive button. Suddenly, I had a brainwave.

‘Maybe it isn’t locked, and I should just try it’

I pushed at the fuel cap. It swung open so that you could get to the screw cap for the tank.

‘Oh!’

*this did say 'BMW', until it was pointed out that I was wrong!

**The picture is the Rest Stop which we found when we were looking for petrol near the airport. It seems not all French Rest Stops have petrol, some of them have Roman Theatres instead.

A Week in Provence

2009-07-20T17:03:00.004+01:00

For that’s what I’ve just had. Last year, I visited Aix en Provence on my cruise, and fell in love with it, determined to go back. This year, we had four nights in Aix, and three in Avignon, which is in the middle of its Festival, which has a huge Fringe event, very similar to Edinburgh.

It’s a beautiful area, and one I think I’ll return to, as I don’t think you can do it any sort of justice in a week. It’s been lovely to get away from everything here for a while though.

We were much more independent than last year, hiring a car, and navigating our way to the various places we wanted to visit. There’s a lot to say, and how much of it I’ll get round to saying I’m not sure. I loved:
The weather, the scenery and the history. The lovely rose wine.

I was less keen on:
The lack of road signage in some places. The prices; the fall in value against the euro has hit hard, and things seemed very expensive. The food (yes, I know I am faddy, and difficult, but it turns out I just don’t much care for French food, and there is only so much salad you can eat without turning into a rabbit!)

Well, I always said I'd get round to it one day

2009-07-05T21:10:00.002+01:00

I know that this may shock those of a sensitive disposition, but this is a picture of my garden. Well, when I say ‘garden’, bare patch of ground might be more accurate. To appreciate the change, you would really need to see a ‘before’ picture, but for obvious reasons (embarrassment!!) I haven’t any. It used to be lovely, but that was about 7 years ago. That's the trouble with gardens. They grow, and then they overgrow.

OF COURSE I didn’t do it myself. How could I? You should have seen the chap’s face when I explained that there was a patio and chairs and a bench under the briars and brambles.

At least I have a blank canvas, though I’d better do something with it before it all starts to grow again. I’m thinking grass would not be the best of ideas this time!

People Watching

2009-07-05T18:08:00.004+01:00

It's well know that I tend to be more interested in places, (buildings, history) than in people, but I find people watching is definately a seasonal activity.

This is mainly because what I'm looking at is what they are wearing; winter is rubbish, as everyone is so 'coated up' that you can't see much; the best people watching of all is from a pavement cafe in (pretty much any) Italian city on a balmy evening.

However, over the past few weeks, I've been spending a lot of time at railway stations. And it has been hot, so no coats required. I've loved watching the people gathering for the London train, and trying to work out who is working, and who is heading for a day out. Not always that easy, in these days of 'smart-casual' office wear. There are still plenty of 'suits' though. The traditional briefcase is now mainly replace by the laptop bag (the fact that I choose to carry my work papers in a Tesco Cath Kidston shopper is not lost on me).

I usually start with the shoes, as good shoes usually means the rest of the outfit will be good. You have to admire the girl with the four inch heels who is braving the Tube and London pavements (particularly as I left a shoe behind me just outside London Bridge last week, as it caught in the pavement.)

Then there are the people in 'holiday wear'. Oh dear. Sadly, with the British, this frequently means a total abdication from any style. Allowances can be made for hot weather, but very few people can wear cut offs, though few seem to realise this. If you have chunky calves, people, please stay away.

The Ribbon Walk, Part 2

2009-06-28T22:20:00.005+01:00

I guess I must have triple checked that I had everything with me. Walking shoes, socks, waterproof jacket, umbrella (just in case), car park pass, and of course, pink iced cakes, pink wafer biscuits and crisps (for the salt - not pink, though J had prawn cocktail flavour, which I don’t like).

We set off really early, and, once we’re on the road:

‘We’re going to get there early you know…’
‘We could always stop for coffee, that would make it a proper handbag walk’

So around 10.30am, while others were preparing for the walk, we find a parking space on a busy Saturday morning in Wetherby, and look for a coffee shop. Luckily, for a small town, it seems well provided for, and we find a nice little café, where we clearly should also have had breakfast.

We still make it to Harewood by just after 11.30am. It’s nowhere near as busy as I’d thought it would be. I had visions of us queuing to park, and to register, but there’s none of that. We’re just guided to a parking space, and then go over and register, and to find the third member of our party, realising that this isn’t going to be as hard as we’d thought. There’s a refreshment tent, and even more tantalising, a Pimms stall.

Then it’s time for a pre-walk snack. C, who isn’t familiar with the world of the handbag walkers, looks a bit bemused as we set out the picnic rug, and the food, on pink plates, with pink serviettes. We’re taking cake with us though, to eat en route.

We get booted up, and, as it manages to spit with rain for all of 30 seconds while we are picnicking, I have to take my jacket, which I proceed to tie around me, as it won’t fit in my handbag. As I’m also wearing a bum bag, to carry all the other things that won’t fit in my handbag, I create a sort of bustle effect. Or, at least, in my head I do. Thankfully I can’t see behind me.

For the first couple of miles, it’s a long stream of people, which doesn’t make for easy walking, as we keep having to overtake, and then, we also keep stopping for photos. We’re amazed to find that after an hour, we’ve completed 3 miles.

The first rest stop, with refreshments, is at 3.5 miles, and we stock up with fruit and more water. Soon after, we’re passing alongside Eccup Reservoir, and everyone else seems to have vanished. We wonder for a moment if we’ve gone wrong, then spot a pink arrow up in a tree.

We soon seem to have reached 5 miles. Halfway. Time was not that long ago when this would have been a very long walk, but we’re going well, and don’t feel tired. We never spot the 6 mile marker, as, after 6.5 miles, we arrive at the second rest stop, which seems an outdoor activity centre. We stop and sit in a children’s playground to eat our crisps and cakes, (on which the icing has melted a bit).

When we set off again one of the marshalls says ‘the worst bit is over now’. As we head into the woods, and up a hill, we realise he was lying! After 7 miles, a hill is pretty hard going, and it adds insult when we’re overtaken by a bloke who is running, but soon we’ve crested it, and emerging from the trees, can see Harewood House across the parkland.

The final mile is up the drive to the house, and then round the front of it. We pass the little shop, and at least two tea shops at this point, but can’t stop, for the finishing line is in sight. For at least the last three miles, J has been talking about Pimms.
We cross the line to cheers (bless them) and it feels good. We’re presented with our medals, and having posed for a celebratory photo, head for a glass of Pimms, which goes down very well. We also get a voucher for free food*, which is surprisingly nice, and then head back to the car, where we have mini bottles of pink champagne.

As we sit beside the cars, raising our glasses in celebration, I feel very proud of us all.

*which doesn't feel that 'free' when you've walked 10 miles for it!

The Ribbon Walk

2009-06-22T10:30:00.002+01:00

I can’t actually believe that we’ve done it. That I have walked 10 miles, without any noticeable after effects.

More importantly, I have reached my target of raising over £250 for breast cancer care. Thank you to everyone who has sponsored me, and of, course, for all your encouraging comments along the way, as well as those that reminded me of how unfit I have been my whole life till now.

A fuller report of the day is coming, but for now, here’s the proof.

Final Training

2009-06-18T14:47:00.007+01:00

Oh yes, I’ve been training hard, having recovered from my ‘injury’ (which didn’t actually take long, but then I have no experience of such things, hence my panic).

I can’t actually believe we do the Ribbon Walk in two days time. It seemed a long way away when we signed up. Along the route, sadly one of our team members has had to pull out, but we’ve also gained a member* of our ladies walking group who will be joining us on the day.

Over the last few Sundays, we’ve done some longer walks, starting with 7 miles (with breaks), moving on to an incredibly boring (and hot) walk of 7.5 miles, without a tea shop (won’t be doing that one again). The other week we even did a morning walk of 6 miles, and an evening walk of 4.5 miles to fit around J’s afternoon concert. So that was 10.5 miles in a day, though with a considerable break in the middle. We were both shattered by the end of the day though.

Last weekend our ladies group had decided to do a 9 mile walk, so this was our ‘trial run’, as there was no tea shop or pub en route. It was also my trial with my handbag, and cakes, and other equipment. I did not look like a serious walker.

After about 4 miles, we reached a seat under a tree, and J and I proceeded to bring out, and eat, crisps and glittery pink iced buns, much to the astonishment of the others. We then continued, walking back along the river. At times it felt a bit like a route march, and not that leisurely, so I want to pace things more gradually at the weekend. It’s not a race, and it’s not about how quickly we complete it. As long as we get round before they close the course, that’s fine.

Once again though, we were pretty knackered by the end. I guess I’m glad that the following day is a Sunday.

Not sponsored me yet - here's the link

*who claims to have done ‘no training’, but was out at the front on Sunday’s walk, and is clearly much fitter than us.

Crazy days

2009-06-12T10:44:00.000+01:00

I’ve been a bit busy lately! So I’ve not really had time to update on the rest of my visit to London, or seeing the lovely John Barrowman in concert, or my subsequent two trips to London, or my walking, or any thing else. There will be updates on some, but not all of these in due course, but sometimes it seems the moment to write has passed.

Basically, it’s all been a bit crazy, and isn’t shaping up to be any less hectic over the next few weeks, as I have a couple of major pieces of work coming up before I go on holiday. So, this weekend, I’m taking a moment to breathe.