In many ways the play is in the tradition of dream plays, so it would be wrong to complain about the lack of plot and confusing switches. But this piece seemed, to me, so very disjointed, it was hard to get anything much out of the experience.
It is laudable that Eve Leigh and the Royal Court have tried to produce a piece that specific speaks to people with physical challenges, but the notion that the central male character was substituting internet experience for the physical experiences his body would not allow, really struggled to make that point through the material.
Janie really hated the piece.
I tried to go with the flow but couldn’t get anywhere with it.
It is only 70 minutes long, but it felt like so much longer.
We both had out own physical challenges by the end of the ordeal – those narrow arse-ache chairs had us John-Wayning out of the theatre.
We saw a preview, so there’s a chance that the piece has been tightened a little ahead of press night, but I doubt it.
It was about time for another of our regularly-occasional gatherings of the old school clan, so, sure enough, an e-mail came through from John Eltham several weeks ago organising this evening for us.
More than a dozen of us gathered again, most for drinks at the Walrus & Carpenter plus dinner at The Rajasthan, while a handful came to just one or other of the venues.
Anyway, my need to be in the City this week cunnningly conspired to coincide with this day, so I simply wandered over to The Walrus after work.
The group was already well gathered in the cunningly hidden dowstairs bar. Mostly comprising the usual suspects, the group also included Nick Wahla for the first time. Nick was in my class in the second and third years – here’s some evidence of the former:
According to the above piece, Nick’s nickname (if you can get your head round the idea of someone named “Nick” having a nickname), was “Gob”. It’s almost impossible to imagine why Nick might ever have been known as Gob. My guess is that the epithet “Gob” was handed down to Nick by our form master, Tony King, rather than an authentic compadre’s moniker.
Soon we were joined by Mike Jones, who, coincidentally, had been form master to all three of us in our third year. Simon Ryan enocuraged the whole table to stand up and say, “good evening, Sir” to Mike, which I’m certain caused Mike not one jot of embarrassment.
We did a bit of 3BJ reminiscing at our end of the table…and why not? I particularly remembered Nick Wahla giving “Cyril” Vaughan a hard time in our Latin classes, but Nick claimed not to remember Cyril at all and went all “innocentia effecit imitatio” on the matter of Latin disruption, while admitting to having achieved a record low in his Latin exam. 8%.
Now I’m not saying that Nick was the main or only protagonist in the matter of Cyril baiting. Heaven knows, I personally pulled the “varnishing a stash of chalk and swapping the varnished variety for all the serviceable chalk” stunt…I am now prepared at this late stage to confess to that one…perhaps my best ever practical joke…especially the cunningly hidden addtional piece of varnished chalk waiting to be discovered in the master’s desk drawer…
…but I do distinctly remember Paul Deacon’s impersonation of Cyril, which was excellent vocally, normally comprising phrases such as, “…Wahla, please put that hand grenade down, there’s a good fellow…now Wahla, please don’t pick up that machine gun in place of the hand grenade, be a nice chap…”
If we’re really lucky Paul might chime in with a Cyril voice file to enhance this memory.
Bunch of clowns, we were and I’m sure the masters took great pains at the time to tell us that we wouldn’t be able to make a living in the real world writing silly jokes, speaking in funny voices and/or by having the gift of the gab.
Nick Wahla is now deploying his gift of the gab in the world of market research; he warned us all that no shopping visit nor even the supposed security of our own homes would make us safe from a possible approach by Nick at unsuspecting moments in our lives. It’s a minor miracle, it seems, that none of us have yet encountered Nick and his clip board in the field.
Meanwhile we ate Indian food, most people drank Cobra beer, while three of us (me, David Leach and Lisa Pavlovsky) braved the Indian Shiraz – I’m not sure we’ll be making that mistake with that particular wine again – my bad idea.
There was lots of chat.
At the end of the meal, it transpired that it was Paul Driscoll’s birthday and so David Wellbrook hurriedly cajoled the waiting staff into arranging a token birthday sweet, with which to embarrass Paul.
In that vid you can see an excitable-looking me (not sufficiently sedated with wine – one glass of that Shiraz was more than enough for me) jumping up to take the following picture:
As always, it was great to see the gang and especially nice to see Nick Wahla again after all these years. Astonishingly, he was too polite to ask a range of questions about the evening, so I shall provide the answers here.
On a scale of 1 to 10, where 1 is “totally dissatisfied” and 10 is “totally satisfied”, I would give the following scores:
* quality of food, drink and service 6/10
* quality of company and feeling of bon-homie 11/10
As always, a great evening. Many thanks to John Eltham who always takes on the unenviable task of trying to herd our bunch of Alleyn-cats for these get togethers.
Dominic Flint and I qualified for the semi-final of the doubles in the Lord’s internal tournament for people of our grade.
Tony (left), Dominic (centre) & Yours Truly (right), at MURTC in spring
We’ve been practicing together a fair bit over the summer and autumn, and/but knew that we’d need to be at the top of our game for our fancied opponents; Gareth Zundel and Sebastian Wood.
In short, I’ll have to wait a while longer before I win a semi. Dominic and I started poorly, losing the first four games. After that, we were in the hunt for the rest of the match, but it is a best of three set shootout, so when our opponents overcame our second set lead amd pipped us in the second set as well, that was that.
What do you mean, “you’d like to see the whole sorry affair pan out”? Surely not? What? Oh, Ok, then. It is just shy of an hour, so two parts:
I feel I learnt a lot from the process of getting to know each other’s games and working out a method as a pair. Dominic says he feels the same way, so I hope we get another opportunity to play a tournament together.
21 November 2019 – Club Night, Lord’s
The club has recently initiated a new idea, called club night, which is basically a turn up and play doubles evening with an element of eating and drinking for those who wish.
I love the idea and intend to be a regular attendee. But I was unable to make the first one, so wanted to make the effort to attend this second one, even though I wasn’t really up for the libations and dining side of it.
I got to play a couple of sets; early in the evening with some guys who were well above my pay grade; then latterly a really well-matched set which enabled me to reunite with James McDermott.
Me and James, at Hampton Court a few week’s earlier
James was playing very well in that successful Hampton Court match and has subsequently gone on to great things – not least qualifying for the final of the WH Ollis (singles).
It was good fun to have another go at doubles with James, although this time we came out second best in the tightest of tight sets.
I’m aiming to try and make club nights from now on; including keeping the early morning afterwards free if possible.
22 November 2019, A Couple Of British Open Doubles Quarter-Finals Matches, The Queen’s Club
I was keen to see some of the British Open at Queen’s this year. I chose the Singles semi-finals day to take Janie (that’s tomorrow) but also thought I’d take in some of the doubles (now that I am making strides in that format).
So I took the afternoon out to watch a couple of the matches and then drive on to Noddyland.
Here’s the first match I watched:
Darren Long, who has looked after me so well when I have visited Manchester, was on the wrong side of this match – a not unexpected result in the circumstances.
Between the two matches I watched, i popped into the restaurant/bar for a snack and ran into Darren there. He introduced me to Ben Taylor-Matthews (Leamington) and we had a pleasant chat before he shot off to get his train back to Manchester.
The second match, which included Ben Taylor-Matthews, was a fair bit closer and went the way of my new found friend. He was partnering Bryn Sayers, who i know from Queen’s, so I suppose I was rooting for the favourites for once. You don’t really do much partisan rooting when watching real tennis – more admiration for good rests and great shots:
23 November 2019, The British Open Singles Semi-Finals Matches, The Queen’s Club
After our traditional game of lawners in the morning, Janie and I headed off to The Queen’s Club in time to have a pleasant brunch before watching the singles semi-finals.
I wanted to show Janie how the game really ought to be played – surely she had suffered enough watching me a few times.
As it turned out, although Janie has known many Queensistas in her time and had been with me to see lawn tennis at Queen’s, she’d never actually been in the main building before.
I think that might be the tennis court, there…
Of course we bumped into people we knew, not least Tony Friend, Robin Simpson and Brian Sharp.
Brian is probably asking me if I have got my handicap below 60 yet.
I promised to show Janie around a bit during the break between the two matches, which I did reasonably successfully.
The first semi-final was between Rob Fahey (current world champion, long-time world No 1, now world No 2) and my new friend Ben Taylor-Matthews:
Rob Fahey looking supremely confidentBen Taylor-Matthews gathering himself
I thought Ben put up some strong resistance before eventually succumbing, but when I saw him briefly afterwards he said he’d been disappointed by his performance.
The second match was a little more one-sided. I don’t think anyone was going to beat Camden Riviere this year:
Chris Chapman sporting electric blue shoesWhile Camden wore red and one back shoe; some sort of statement?
Janie really enjoyed her day at Queen’s and even took an interest, the next day, encouraging me to put the streaming on the TV so we could see the semi-finals of the doubles.
The Queen’s Club is a lovely place to visit and my it looked resplendent as we left, even in the rain:
I took a punt on this one – Janie doesn’t much like staying in town for anything on a Tuesday evening – but I guessed, correctly, that this would be a really good concert.
I cannot better that review, so need only to defer to it and say little more, other than the fact that Janie and I were quite blown away by this gig. That “oh my gosh this is exceptional” feeling happens rarely for us now, as we are lucky and privileged to see a great deal of wonderful stuff.
But this concert really was the bees knees, as the above review explains.
I dowloaded all three Liberetto albums at the weekend, so we can listen some more to this material and to more of Lars Danielsson’s recent work besides.
Here’s a sample video of one of the tracks from the most recent, Liberetto III, album – Lviv:
Below is another trailer, from the first Liberetto album – different pianist on the vid but the current quartet played this piece on the night:
Have I menioned how good this jazz group is and how wonderfully Lars Danielsson’s music sounds?
I’ll stop and let Lars Danielsson Group’s work speak for itself.
As planned, we still had time to take our own look around Fortnum & Mason ahead of the Gresham Society event. We had been told that we were not getting the standard guided tour of the shop…
…thank goodness – I mean, who needs a guide to take you around a shop, especially if you have Janie with you?…
…so the opportunity to have a butchers at the store ahead of the special artefact session we had been promised, was a good idea.
Of course, being Gresham Society, Janie and I weren’t the only people to have that bright idea. We ran into several Gresham Societitians, not least Barbara Anderson, while exploring the delights of Fortnum and Mason, without a guide.
SweetAlso sweetSurely I can’t go back to savoury now?Everything looked nice enough to eat down there in the food hall
But our real purpose at Fortnum and Mason was to hear from the archivist, Dr Andrea Tanner and see some of the treasured artefacts she has gathered about the 300+ year old institution.
The Gresham connection is a little tenuous, but Fortnum & Mason have recently opened a branch in The Royal Exchange, which of course was founded by Sir Thomas Gresham.
While the direct connection might be tenuous, the international mercantile nature of both Gresham’s career and the commercial venture that is/became Fortnum & Mason, have some clear similarities.
We were honoured to be hosted in the Fortnum & Mason Board Room. We learnt that our visit was very much a one-off treat for The Gresham Society, as the regular “history tours” are more usually small groups on a shop tour. Such tours are most certainly not normally conducted during the run up to the festive season, so we were most firtunate and honoured to be thus welcomed.
Tea……and biscuits……in the charming Board Room……yes, indeed. So listen up, Mr Harris.
Janie was especially interested to hear about the post-war history of the business, as she treated Garry Weston (the Wagon Wheel man, as well as the Fortnum & Mason man) & his wife, Mary Weston, for many years.
But in truth, the elements that most interested us and the Gresham folk gathered that afternoon, were the extraordinary historical artefacts that Andrea Tanner was able to show us. These pieces illustrated the history of the place to a far greater extent than the (still interesting) dates and anecdotes.
We were warned not to open this unfinished jar of beef extract; who knows what lurks within such a jar once several decades have passed.Tommy’s Tin – chocs and cards for the troops
Janie snapped a fair smattering, but not all, of the pieces handed round and explained.
Fortnum & Mason has diversified into all sorts at times in its history; it’s not all about teas, sweets and winesWell I’ll be darned – more stuff for TommyOnly Janie seemed to have the guts & dexterity to open this beautiful small watchNot on the table, Imelda! What would your mother say?
After the superb talk, artefact show and questions, we were each given a very jolly goody-bag, like we see at children’s parties these days…never would have happened in my childhood I might tell you. Tea and biscuits and vouchers in that goody bag – very nice.
Those of us brave or foolish enough to tackle the Fortnum & Mason wine bar prices, retired to the food hall wine bar for an hour or so, to enjoy excellent wines in superb Gresham Society company.
This was not the most intellectually stimulating Gresham Society trip ever, but it was extremely interesting and enjoyable.
We were genuinely privileged to be allowed such access to Fortnum & Mason at this time of year, so many thanks to Tim and Basil for organising the visit. The perfect hors d’oeuvres ahead of the repast that will be the Gresham Society soiree in a few week’s time.
More photos, including those from Janie’s and my earlier visit to the Royal Academy, can be seen in the Flickr album available by clicking here or on the photo link below.
Neither of us would have made a special trip to the Royal Academy to see either one of these exhibitions on its own, but when we realised that we were due to be across the road in Fortnum & Mason for an early evening Gresham Society event that evening, the opportunity to see:
…was too good for me and Janie to miss. (Click the above links to see the RA’s excellent on-line resources for each of these shows).
First we took in the Gormley. Janie got trigger happy with her iPhone.
The signage tells you to duck and dive your way through this piece, while another sign tells you rather strictly to stick to the outside of the piece. Where’s my sat nav when I need it the most?I tried to emulate the pose.This matrix piece made us feel a bit dizzyJanie was especially taken with the sketch books aplenty,Having done various real caves and even the Củ Chi tunnels in our time, this synthetic cave held no fear for us, although the health and safety brigade warned us about the dark, head hazards and claustrophbia before we entered. It was fun.
While we were more interested to see the Freud than the Gormley, in the event the Freud was a small exhibition with only a few interesting pieces.
Lucian clearly fancied himself more when he was young……than he did when he was older.
As we had suspected, neither show would have satisfied us as a single visit show, but we were pleased to have seen both in one visit, especially so on a day when we were to be so nearby anyway.
There are more photos, in a single album with the Fortnum & Mason ones, to be seen by clicking the link below:
It’s not very often I play in a match that is determined by the very last point or the very last ball, especially in my favourite sports, tennis & cricket. Professional matches occasionally conjure up such a nailbiter – this year seems to have been a bit of a year for it…
On arrrival at Lord’s for the 2019 MCC v MURTC fixture, I encountered Jonathan Ellis-Miller, one of the MCC regulars for this fixture, looking uncharcteristically glum. He was bemoaning the fact that MURTC had conjured up some big South African ringers for this match. I know all about this type of team selection, having been on the right and the wrong side of such shenanigans in charity cricket matches many times. Indeed the 2005 Tufty Stackpole fixture linked above had a Saffer ringer element and the 2006 rematch even more so – rare examples of the big Saffers being on my side for a change.
In truth, Carl Snitcher and Catherine Hudson can only be described as Big Saffers by dint of their indisputably big personailities and their unfeasibly big tennis rackets. We’re not talking “85 mph bowling” or “move your car out of the boundary-side car park, possibly into the next village” type big Saffers.
Anyway, point is, Jonathan Ellis-Miller was probably suspecting that he would struggle to repeat his 2018 heroics when up against the combined forces of Carl Snitcher and Catherine Hudson, despite the nominally numerical advantages of his double, double-barrelled pairing with David Mitchell-Innes.
In 2018 it was Jonathan, combined with Jeremy Norman, who snatched victory from the very jaws of defeat in the fourth rubber – I think they were a set and 5-1 or 5-2 down, to level the fixture. That allowed me and Nick Evans to seal the unlikely deal with a 5th rubber win to take the match 3-2.
This year, Nick Evans was involved in the first rather than the last rubber of the fixture, partnering Richard Boys-Stones. These two were on court doing battle with Messrs Rivlin and Humphris when I arrived and had that gloomy conversation with Jonathan Ellis-Miller.
This time I have scraped the highlights (i.e. the endings) of the matches from the MCC CCTV feed. Here’s the last ten minutes of that first rubber:
Thus the MCC led 1-0 after the first rubber.
Jonathan Ellis-Miller’s sense of foreboding for the second rubber was not unwarranted, although the handicap system did its job in making for a very close contest, despite the large handicap.
While that contest was playing out, Peter Luck-Hille, who had kindly turned up to observe, remarked that he came along to watch to get away from all the politics. Then I thought Peter also suggested forming a Dedanists’ Party, which I think would be an excellent idea. I suggested the strap line:
The Dedanists’ Party – Where Politics Gets Real…
…which can be reduced to a micro-slogan: “Get Real”…
…but then learnt that Peter had actually suggested forming a Hedonists’ Party, not a Dedanists’ Party. Frankly, if Socialism doesn’t work because it takes up too many evenings, I cannot see how Hedonism as a political force might work; too many evenings, too many late nights, too many lazy days…get real.
Returning to the reality of the match, in my humble opinion, Carl and Catherine both played really well together that day and deserved their win in the circumstances. You’ll see Jonathan try to repeat the antics of 2018 with a late charge from the rear (as it were), only to fall agonisingly short in the end. I have started the video a few moments after some unrepeatable language – from whence it came who knows? – about 15 minutes from the conclusion of this rubber:
1-1 on the rubber count, at which point Dominic Flint and I took to the court to face Sharon Maidment and Sebastian Wood.
Sebastian, like Carl, is a member of both clubs and has previously represented the MCC in this fixture. This is very much the way in real tennis, although Janie tells me that I should describe these fellows, in no-nonsense terms, as traitors.
But then Janie’s judgment might not be ideal for this matter. I asked her where I should start the highlights cut on this rubber, to which she said:
I’m not sure I’d describe any of it as highlights…
…then, when Janie observed my crest-fallen facial expression, she said…
…what I meant was, all of that rubber is a highlight.
Now that makes sense. So here, split into two halves, is the entire 57 minute episode that was Rubber 3. Below the first reel…
…but I’d recommend the second reel for all but the completists amongst you, as it starts at 5-5 30-30 towards the end of the first set:
So, MCC led 2-1 as we went into the fourth rubber. That was a more one-sided affair as Sam Asgedom and John Harrington took full advantage of the handicap bestowed upon them by Paul Cattermull and Nick Davidson. Without detracting in any way from the performances of others, young Sam demonstrated how quickly young players can develop their skills beyond the progression of their handicaps – an impressive display. Here is the last few minutes of that rubber:
The calculating amongst the readership (if anyone remains this far down the page) will have gathered that the match was poised at 2-2 with one to play, as indeed it had been poised last year. But whereas last year’s deciding rubber proved to be a rather one-sided affair, with me and Nick Evans both conjuring our very best tennis, together, at the same time, for just enough time to get two sets done in a hurry…
…this year the 5th and deciding rubber proved to be an absolute cracker.
By this stage of the evening, the delicious soup, curry, cheese and the rather scrummy Malbec wine had all been taken away or had gone, but the stalwarts who remained to cheer on their heroes somehow managed to fortify themselves with a plentiful supply of Pinot Grigio which remained. Or, in my case, ahead of an early start the next day, water.
Steven Bishop and Rodger Davis, two vastly experienced gentlemen of the MCC, took on Stuart Kerr and David Offen, MURTC regulars who became regulars far more recently than the MCC regulars. The MCC won a tight first set 6-4. We join the match towrds the end of the second set, which, at this stage, MURTC seemed to be leading reasonably comfortably:
At the end of the second set, Mark Ryan, who marked the match with his usual expertise and impartiality, let anyone who was listening (i.e. those without sound-proofed boxes over their heads) that he thought the MCC should have finished the match off when they had the match point to do so. I think Mark wanted to go home and frankly, as he was the one who was working past 22:00 in the evening, who could blame him for expressing his disapointment.
But sport is sport and we were in for a humbinger of a deciding set, which starts at 3-3. For the non-artithmetical amongst the readership, that makes it a “best of five games” set rather than the regular “best of 11 games” set. For the ultra-observant of the video clip below, Mark, in his fury, had recorded the second set score on his gadget as 6-5 MCC rather than 6-5 MURTC. But everyone knew what the score really was.
As this was a handicap match, a set can go to 5-5 40-40 and be determioned by a single point, which is exactly what happened here. Further, that “one point” that determined the match became a chase, just to add to the excitement. It really was very exciting to watch.
Here’s the whole set:
It was a really splendid evening. Good company, good sport and an exciting ending to boot. MURTC might be disappointed to come away from such a match without a win, but, if you’ll forgive the cliche, tennis is the real winner when matches are as close, convivial and enjoyable as this one.
I seem to have become a regular component of fixtures between the MCC and Middlesex University Real Tennis Club (MURTC), several of which I have written up (click here for my MURTC tag). Strangely, I did not write up the November 2018 version of this fixture at the time, but I hope I have covered the 2018 match as best I can within this write up.
Anyway, I hope I am selected again – I always really enjoy these matches. There’s also something of the local derby about MCC v MURTC too which adds a certain frisson to the excellent company and good sporting combat…especially/even when the match goes tantalisingly down to the very last point.
The piece is said to be about the gig economy, but in truth it is about that shady part of the economy which is purportedly “gig”, but is in truth sham self-employment contracts that condemn the individuals concerned to a form of bonded labour, as the contracts are ludicrously one-sided and are designed to deny the individuals workers rights.
The story of this family plays out in rather typical Ken Loach film fashion. The viewer has a sense of foreboding from the outset. It is a Ken Loach movie after all.
The father of the family, Ricky, buys a van and hopes for a more independent existence as a self-employed van driver. The mother, Abby, is also technically self-employed – i.e. an agency care worker on a zero hours contract.
Things do not go well for them.
There are many good reviews on-line but the Variety one – click here – is comprehensive and interesting.
Bursting with poignant scenes, the most poignant ones, for me, are:
several scenes where Abby, who is full of goodness, wants to look after her charges better but is constantly under time/commercial pressure to move on to the next or work unpaid in her severely limited own time;
when Maloney, the ghastly “gangmaster” at the delivery depot, explains why his depot tops the productivity charts and states that the company ought to erect a statue of him to celebrate his management achievements;
a late scene in which the daughter, Lisa Jane, breaks down and explains that she just wants the family to go back to the way it was before her dad had the van.
Set in Newcastle, there are some moments of humour in it, but not to the same extent as I Daniel Blake, the previous Ken Loach, which Janie and I also rated very highly indeed.
Movies like this tell us a lot about our society; those pockets of society that people like me, Janie and most Ogblog readers are, mercifully, spared.
The acting was excellent; Renee Bailey, Doreene Blackstock, Nneka Okoye and Aasiya Shah all top notch – Janie and I both agreed on that. We also both thought the play well directed by Danial Bailey and we both liked Amelia Jane Hankin’s minimal yet imaginative set.
Not sold out even on a Saturday night, which seemed a shame – the play runs until 7 December – a few weeks yet to run at the time of writing, so click on the image above or click here for ticket information.
I offer space on Ogblog for Threadmashers if placing their pieces in the public domain pleases them; I am delighted and honoured to host any or all such pieces. This time, Kay Scorah has submitted her touching account entitled:
The Gift. Bobo
The Holme Lane Theatre Company – HLTC- specialised in Dickensian tales of poverty and suffering. Inspired by…
…well…
…Charles Dickens tales of poverty and suffering.
Their performances always featured a fierce heroine; Olivia Twist or Nicola Nickleby, who overcame tyranny and liberated the oppressed. This heroine was always slight of build, sharp-witted and fleet of foot. Uncannily like a certain small, skinny girl who always came top of the class and had to run fast to escape the thick bully boys in the neighbourhood.
The cast of HLTC, a motley collection of dolls and soft toys, would rehearse in my attic playroom in Hillsborough, Sheffield, and then head out on tour, which involved moving the entire production down to the living room to play to a captive (as opposed to captivated) audience of long-suffering grown ups, or GUs as we shall call them.
Bobo joined the cast in September 1961. A birthday gift from Granny. The first black doll in our company. She turned out to be the Russian doll of gifts. Which is weird because you don’t come across many black Russians….not outside of a cocktail menu, anyway.
Bobo the doll was just the wrapper around the gift of layers of learning.
Bobo gift 1: Golly has to go. With her movable arms, head and legs and her eyes which closed when she lay down, Bobo was a far more versatile performer than Golly, who just flopped about the place with a fixed grin. And, to be honest, in spite of being rocketed to stardom after having been featured on the side of a jam jar, Golly’s place in the company had been uncertain for some time. Some of our audience did not approve, even threatened to boycott performances, and with Bobo’s arrival… things became very awkward. No. Bobo most certainly could not be expected to work alongside Golly. This was perhaps the only time in history that a black female was given precedence over a male of any hue.
Bobo gift 2: Fluidity in representations of gender. With Golly gone, there were no male cast members. So we became an all-female theatre company. Male characters, if we must have them, were played by girl dolls. In 1961. Yes, The Holme Lane Theatre company was way ahead of its time.
Bobo Gift 3. Questioning the concept of gendered naming. Bobo arrived on a Tuesday. In conversation with Mr Baidu down the street, I learned that Bobo was Ghanaian for “Tuesday child”. I didn’t know that it was Ghanaian for “boy Tuesday child”. Nor did Bobo.
Bobo Gift 4. Heated debates on colonialism, cultural appropriation, integration, assimilation, ancestry, origin, custom…. Some of the GUs argued that Bobo should have an English name, like the other dolls – Wendy, Susan, Lorraine, Katy… “She needs to feel that she belongs.” “Just because she’s black doesn’t mean she isn’t English.” Others defended her right to claim her ancestry…. It could be hard to get their attention back to the play; to Olivia Twist MP’s fight for workhouse reform or Dr Nicola Nickleby’s courageous work among child polio victims.
So, here’s to Bobo, probably the first black female to play the lead in a stage adaptation of a Dickens novel, who, 5 years before the race relations act, called out racism and reclaimed African culture from the colonial Brits, and who, decades ahead of the LGBTQ+ movement gave rise to an all-female, gender non-conforming, cross-dressing theatre company.
Not bad for a doll.
Many thanks again to Kay Scorah for allowing this piece to guest on Ogblog.
