Our first visit back to The Finborough Theatre since the pandemic. Coincidentally, our previous visit was our last visit to any theatre before the pandemic, and that piece was also at least partly about Israel:
Since that 2020 visit, The Finborough has been awarded a coveted Pub Theatre Of the Years Award 2022, which is quite something…
…especially as The Finborough currently has no pub. But that’s not important to us, as we were always “only there for the theatre”, not “only here for the beer”.
Janie and I were both very taken with The Retreat. It is set in 1993, in the shadow of the Oslo Peace Accords, although the play is set in Canada, pitting a Hebrew School teacher/would-be script writer with a pair of seasoned but warring (with each other) film makers.
If the play errs at all, it is a bit long, running to nearly two-and-a-half hours. Ironic, really, given that the central conceit of the play is about script editing. But that space gives room for the characters to develop and for the darker recesses of their behaviours to become apparent to the audience.
Janie and I thought all four cast members performed very well but were especially taken with Jill Winternitz as the somewhat vulnerable young woman and Jonathan Tafler as her father.
We’re back at The Finborough in a few week’s time to see the next thing and can hardly wait after enjoying this production. We’d almost forgotten how much we like this type of small-scale intimate drama.
Eight of us gathered for one of our periodic NewsRevue alum evenings at the Holborn Spaghetti House.
There were no controversial shortages of certain dishes this time, but there was an especially irritable waiter who seemed to decide that I am an idiot, perhaps because I turned up a little late and didn’t want to partake of the Prosecco and sparkling mineral water already on the table, but wanted to order my own non-sparkling beverages.
Most unusually for me, I prevailed in Colin Stutt’s quiz about the faces/quotes of Irish writers & characters. A lot of informed guesswork in my answers, plus some lucky, uninformed guesswork. But on the whole it seems I can tell Shaw from Wilde, Joyce from Beckett and the like.
I did not fare so well with John’s intriguing game about famous movie stars and the obscure locations from whence they hail.
The next day, John summed up the evening, wonderfully, in his inimitable words:
I am sure you will all be celebrating the 234th anniversary of the Mutiny on the Bounty, which falls today (I know I am) but if I could drag you away from your Tahiti-shaped cupcakes for a moment…
Just wanted to thank you all for turfing yourselves out last night to the Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner. I would like to thank Colin for his wonderful Irish-themed quiz. I tried bits of it out on Jenny this morning, because she got herself an Irish passport last year in response to Brexit. One of her grandfathers was Irish, which is enough to make you count as Irish, apparently. Sad to say, she didn’t shine, so her citizenship may be re¬voked. I would like to praise Ian for winning said quiz and Mark for know¬ing the birthplaces of more Hollywood Royalty than anyone need to.
I would like to thank Colin again for the generous touch of the Prosecco and each and every one of you for your warm congratulations on Jenny and I becoming man and wife after all these years. I was very touched.
As I looked around the room, I thought how lucky I was to enjoy the friendship of such erudite, witty and good-hearted men. Such a shame that none of them could be there. You’d like them. And Caroline, I left you off that list cos it spoilt the flow of the joke, not because I’ve forgotten you.
The theme of this rather wonderful BBC Lunchtime Concert at Wigmore Hall was imitations. All of the pieces had themes within them in which the music imitates some sort of natural sound.
Janie and I thought this was an excellent and very interesting concert. We very nearly missed it, as I, in an extremely rare omission, forgot to write this Wigmore Hall date in our diaries when I booked this back in February. It was only because there was a small change to the programme that I was alerted to my omission and fortunately we were both able still to make the date.
The headline picture is sort-of an imitation too – that painting by Jan Voorhout was once thought to be Dieterich Buxtehude, the composer of the first piece we heard, but is now believed simply to be a domestic music scene of that baroque period.
If you just fancy one little listen to some Baroque imitation, then the third movement of this sonata by Johann Paul von Westhoff, which we heard, should thrill your ears.
Continuing the theme of imitation, I suppose I spent the day “imitating” a young man. I have said in recent years that there are now only three places left where people sometimes call me “young man” without irony: Wigmore Hall, Lord’s and Gresham Society. Today I enjoyed all three.
After Wigmore Hall, I went on to lord’s for a cracking game of real tennis doubles.
2016 Picture by Toni Friend – I was so much younger then
Then on to the National Liberal Club for the Gresham Society AGM and dinner. For reasons known only to him (and in a style only Tim could muster), Professor Connell invited me to sit at the top table:
Would you care to join us on the top table tomorrow night?
Everyone else has refused and it will look a bit odd if there is no-one on it.
It would have been hard to refuse such a courteous request.
Tim Connell promised to keep the formal AGM bit to seven minutes but those around me suggested that he strayed into the 10-15 minutes zone, as usual.
Worse yet, despite spending the day in all three places where I am still occasionally addressed as “young man”, no-one had done so that day and no-one did so that evening.
Still, I chatted with lots of interesting people and enjoyed a good dinner.
Sir Thomas Gresham: 1519-1579 – I’m even older than him now
This was a fabulous play/production at the Orange Tree Theatre in Richmond.
It’s about revolting young people in Cairo – i.e. the story, over several years, of several engaging, well-crafted characters, initially caught up in the revolution which started in 2011.
No programme for this production, but there is a care pack – click here – this must be the modern way.
The playwright AHLAM is anonymous/pseudonymous, perhaps a proxy for the “always in danger blogger” character Osman, played very well by Tarrick Benham.
The play covers well the politics of those years – from hope through frustration to fear and desperation. In particular the revolutionary blogger character Osman and his gay friend Rafik, played well by Nezar Alderazi, illustrate the big picture.
But it is also a tale of interpersonal relationships. The younger characters, girls at the outset, Lina (played by Eleanor Nawal) and Maya (played by Yasemin Özdemir) getting in and out of trouble with boys and with each-other.
The whole production was very well acted and very well produced. The night we went, Hanna Khogali was indisposed, so assistant director Riwa Saab stood in for her at the last minute. Riwa is clearly a very talented young thing but not a actress – nevertheless she is a performer when not directing and carried the part astonishingly well in the circumstances, as did all the others, in particular Moe Bar-El whose character had to interact with Riwa’s character the most. Theirs was a “star-crossed lovers” story; him from a Coptic family and her from a Muslim family of cops.
It sounds a bit cheesy when described in simple sentences about the plot, but the stories dance between each other and across time to make a wonderfully engaging evening of theatre.
100 minutes without an interval, but at no point did it feel like a drag.
Janie and I have not been to the theatre much these past few months. We’ll be going a fair bit over the next few months. This one certainly started our “new season” of theatre going with a bang…and I don’t mean tear gas canisters going off in Tahrir Square.
Actually I visited Lord’s twice in the short week before Easter and on both occasions played real tennis.
Given the weather and my other activities, I got more tennis than cricket during those visits.
On the Tuesday, before the start of the cricket season, I had a really good game of doubles, partnering Graham Findlay for the first time and taking on some strong opponents. On paper we should have received some handicap but we played level and still prevailed over 90 minutes. The best I can remember me playing for a long time; perhaps the best I have ever played. Sadly, the CCTV camera stopped running a couple of seconds into our slot, so all I can show of the historic event is this warm-up shot from the hazard end.
Meanwhile Charley “The Gent Malloy” and I had planned to spend the first day of the season at Lord’s together, a bit of a tradition and, with Middlesex playing Essex, a desirable fixture for us both too. But Chas had to withdraw from the planned meet, so I arranged to play tennis first thing with a view to seeing a bit of cricket afterwards, all being well.
Another really good game of doubles, with an opportunity to partner Nick Evans for the first time since goodness-knows-when. Also a chance to play with Bill Taylor again, who was back on court playing competitively after quite a long absence. Again, we played level against the odds for my pairing. This time we lost by a smidgeon. I’d rather not talk about the four set points that went begging, nor my duff call on the opponents’ set point. Again I played well, I felt, but not as well as I had played on the Tuesday.
When I emerged from the dressing room, I ran into Ed Griffiths, Harry Whiteley and Arfan Akram from the London Cricket Trust, who were having an impromptu meeting (chat) about our next stage of activities. They asked me to join them.
In the interludes between the cricket conversation, Ed waxed lyrical about the real tennis, as only he can, suggesting it was a geriatric game, while studiously ignoring the rather good quartet from Prested Hall who were playing by then.
Then Ed collared young Nat, our apprentice professional, asking him why he wasn’t 60 years older than he looked and then asking Nat to provide a three word description of my real tennis.
Graceful, technically gifted…
…came Nat’s spontaneous reply, which I must say I thought was a fine contribution to the debate. I’m not sure what substances (or planet) Nat is on if he actually believes that, but it was a great answer for the context.
The weather then started to smile and Ed wanted to go off to take custody of a ludicrously fast and expensive car for reasons that he did explain but they got a little lost in translation. It’s probably something to do with late-onset-mid-life-crisis.
Ed made a rather disparaging remark about my car, Dumbo, perhaps unaware that Dumbo tends to hang out with ludicrously fast and expensive cars these days:
Two Lamborghinis, Dumbo & a Ferrari: in Waitrose Bayswater Car Park
But I digress.
I got to see some cricket.
I sat for a while in the Writing Room, but then really wanted to get a feel for the outdoor nature of the game, so took up a position in the Warner Stand…
Then, around 3:15, I started to realise how cold I felt and how close the time was getting to the “afternoon showers” predicted by the weather app and increasingly feeling likely. So I went home.
Still, I had played a good game of tennis, had a useful chat about the LCT (between the bants) and seen a couple of hours of cricket. That’s a pretty good day in my book.
Robert Muir tapped me up for this late March Sunday tennis match at Petworth. I realised that it would make an excellent “excuse” for us (me and Janie) to enjoy a short break in Sussex, having done nothing of that kind for so many months.
I hired, through Air B’n’B, what looked like and turned out to be a charming old cottage in Fittleworth for a few days.
Saturday 25 March – Limping From London To Fittleworth, Then Dining In Petworth
Janie and I played our regular game of (modern) tennis on the Saturday morning and set off after a light lunch.
The adventure did not start well.
Dumbo, The Suzuki Jimny, who had recently had a flat tyre & wheel change, let us know as soon as he went over 40 mph that he was not going to be happy at speed, juddering like crazy. Dumbo is well known around London as a pandemic hero…
…but his popularity on and beyond the M25, juddering along at 35-40 mph. was not evident. People were hooting and gesticulating at us.
Daisy got on the mobile phone, trying to locate garages or “tyre services” near to our location on the M25/M3, with limited success, until someone in goodness knows where recommended someone in Guildford, who suggested that we were nearer to Aldershot…
…two keen lads at Aldershot Kwikfit identified that the problem was tyre-balancing and thought that their machine was not working properly because the imbalance appeared “off the scale”. I guessed that the tyre dude in Acton had sold us a dud, so we decided to limp on to Fittleworth and take stock on Monday.
A sliver of Peshwari Nan, me dear?
We commissioned Sue’s cabs (a two-car, husband & wife combination, in which the wife seems very much in charge…we were allocated husband Charles) to take us to and from our Fittleworth cottage to Basmati in the Petworth Market Square – suitably located next door to the Co-op where we could get some basic supplies for our few days.
We had an excellent meal, comprising Peshwari nan & papadoms to start, followed by chicken tikka shobuz (Daisy’s choice), jatt lamb (my choice) tarkha dhaal and lemon rice. A very juicy Malbec helped to wash all of that down and some very friendly and helpful staff served it all.
Anyway, Robert had kindly arranged for me (and a couple of other Dedanists who had ventured far for this fixture) to play two short rubbers rather than one, which added to the fun.
Kim Walker and Me for the DedanistsA sweet win, coming from behind
Between my two short rubbers, a fine lunch of pies and veg, produced in ample quantities by Robert and Carole.
I partnered Chris Marguerie in the second of my rubbers, which was closer than the first but, much like that first rubber, a victory despite being behind for most of the rubber.
Janie was absolutely rapt with attention during that second rubber of mine. Unfortunately, she was paying attention to Nigel Pendrigh and discussing all manner of paramedical matters rather than hanging on my every shot. What a strange way to spend your time at a real tennis match.
Joking apart, the whole event was wonderfully convivial time with old friends and new, as well as good fun tennis, which is just as such friendly matches should be.
We snacked light that evening back at our little cottage, enjoying the peace and privacy and the rather fruity bottle of white depicted above, courtesy of our host.
Monday 27 March – A Day In Petworth
At the tennis match, we discussed Dumbo’s little problem with several of the locals. Robert and most of the others were emphatic..
speak with Alan at Market Square Garage in Petworth tomorrow.
…so we did; first thing. Alan said he’d give it a try.
Alan’s Dumbo diagnosis was that the dud tyre was “off the scale unbalanced” and needed replacing. He also pointed out that the spare, upon which I had been unconsciously pinning my hopes for several years, was also a dud and would not be a safe replacement. I asked him to order and replace two, such that I’d have a matching pair at the front and the older front tyre that was not a dud could become a useable spare.
Alan told us that the tyres would definitely arrive at some point that afternoon, enabling him to complete the job, but it could be any time in the afternoon.
Thus our plans were laid. We would do our day of walking around Petworth House, Gardens and Deer Park. Worse things could happen to us on a beautiful sunny spring day, two minutes walk from the entrance to Petworth House & Park.
Two minutes later…the park entrance
At the park entrance, we happened upon Martin, who is the head gardener for the grounds. He and Janie had quite a long conversation about plants, shrubs and trees, quite a bit of which was in Latin. I understood “daffodils”, “ponds”, “deer”, “landscape”, “Capability Brown” and a few other words.
Probably best I tell the next part of the story in pictures more than words.
Mostly my pictures around the deer park – one or two are Janie’s. It is a shame my tennis shots are not as consistent as my photo shots.
After that long walk around the deer park we were ready for an early lunch, so we parted company with the entrance fees and entered the house and gardens.
We were persuaded to join a short talk about J.M.W. Turner in the card room first.
Janie savoured this unlikely scene of cricketers and fallow deer in front of the pond
Then we took an early lunch. Just as well we went early – we managed to get a table and our choice of grub: tuna jacket-tater for Daisy, za’atar chicken bap for me. But before we had finished our grub, another couple asked to share our table and they discovered that almost all of the food was sold out…at around 12:50. (Blame Brexit/Covid/Putin/rail strikes).
Then we had a look around the servants’ quarters, not least the old kitchens, which were fascinating and rather stunning in their own way. Janie coveted some of the larger pieces of equipment which were almost as big as our entire kitchen.
More copper than the Met Police“Looks real. Are you SURE we can’t eat it?”The SculleryStill RoomJanie showed our age by confessing that she did a holiday job as a kid for a wealthy, elderly couple who had a communications system that looked just like this
Then we looked at a small modern art exhibition.
Janie’s gloves were well colour-co-ordinated with several of the pictures
Refreshed and mentally stimulated, we set off for a second walk – this time around the pleasure gardens part. A slightly shorter, similar loop to our morning walk, but very different look in the pleasure garden.
Daffodils – see, I did understand what they had been talking aboutIs that the village idiot or did Daisy just twig the folly of the Doric Temple?Is that the Petworth rough sleeper or were the exertions now catching up with Ged?Approaching the RotundaA thrush at surprisingly close quarters
Along the way, we encountered the gardeners again. Janie asked one of them about a particular shrub, to which he said…
…oh yes, you’re the couple that was talking to Martin earlier. I’m not entirely sure, but Martin will know…
MARTIN (from behind a larger bush): Enkanthus perulaus…
…so now we all know. Was Martin following us around?
Not sure, but when I stopped to take the following picture…
…I heard the gardeners’ buggy coming, stopped, stood to attention, saluted and got well splashed by the puddle they went through. Janie, from a safe distance, saw the whole episode unfolding and could not stop laughing for a while. Nor could I. They must have thought that I was a right twit of a city boy!
Once Janie stopped laughing, I took her photo with that magnolia:
Soon we were back at the house and in need of a little more refreshment – i.e. a cup of coffee to perk ourselves up – before looking at the bits of the main house we hadn’t seen before lunch:
ChapelThe Leconfield ChaucerMing, Italianate and Japanese thingsExceptional murals on the grand staircaseSt.Mary’s Petworth, as seen from that staircase
We then left Petworth House, wondering where we might go to while away the time until Alan had prepared Dumbo. Just as we were walking through the exit door into the town, my phone went. Dumbo was ready for us.
Dumbo’s new found friends at Alan’s place
Dumbo seemed a little reluctant to leave his new found friends. To be honest, he’s been getting ideas above his service station ever since he encountered the following mob in a car park a couple of week’s ago:
Two Lamborghinis, Dumbo and a red Ferrari. That’s Waitrose Bayswater for you
But I digress. We’d had a super day.
Tuesday 28 March – Brighton, Hove & Home
The weather turned yukky again on the Tuesday, but that didn’t really effect us. We rose quite early, checked out of our sweet little cottage in Fittleworth and went to see Sidney & Joan in Hove, via a short stop at Pendulum in Brighton, where Janie likes to treat me to some louder, fancier clothing than I would ever treat myself. This was a successful visit – three shirts, three pairs of troos and a pair of boat shoes.
Trigger warning: you might need sunglasses for my shirts if you run across me this summer.
Nothing looks colourful on a gloomy day, but Daisy thought the car in front of us was well colour-co-ordinated with the Brighton lamp posts
Then lunch with Sidney and Joan, for the first time since before the pandemic, which is too long of course. It was lovely to see them again and we chatted about many things, not least family stories from way back when. Word had reached Sidney about his Uncle Sid’s revived fame as a saw player, explain and linked within the following:
Lunch and the afternoon flew by, which left only the journey home and an early night, as Janie and I were both tired but very satisfied at the end of our short break.
The curry had to wait while I doled out a vast number of “valuable” prizes– with thanks to Tony Friend and Chris Bray for the pictures.
Putting me in charge of the real tennis skills night is a bit like putting Boris Johnson in charge of an honesty bar, or Suella Braverman in charge of a kindness campaign.
Anyway, the powers that be have deemed me suited to the task, perhaps in a bid to keep me and my tenuous relationship with tennis skills away from attempting the actual skill trials themselves. In truth I very much enjoy hosting the event.
It has become a twice-yearly thing now – once in the spring and once in the autumn, which makes sense.
While this team of three deploys its skills, you might just make me out, in the distance, badgering the next team to ready themselves
I did not go into detail in that match report about the vast number of valuable prizes on offer, but the following pictures might provide some clues.
Brandon appreciates winning the “close but no cigar” awardFergus scores a cool half-million bucks as the most valuable playerAndrew Hinds presents the coveted Hinds trophy to the lowest-scoring teamThe victorious trio celebrate their win
I have subsequently re-met several of Geoffrey’s fellow team mates from that 1969 team, but not Geoffrey himself.
No matter. I was interested to hear what writer Jon Hotten had to say about writing this book with Geoffrey and was delighted to get the opportunity to do so at a book/supper club for MCC members, which allowed me also to bring Janie as a guest.
The event was held in the writing room (appropriately – also possibly my favourite room in the pavilion).
The Lord’s pitch looks astonishing at night. When Janie and I first looked, there was a fox meandering in that lit area, but it meandered away before Janie was able to photograph it:
If anything ever goes awry with the King Cricket website, you can find read that piece here.
Nice grub and good company before the book talk:
Jon Hotten and Geoffrey Boycott have previously done their book launch talks as a double act, but Geoffrey was not available for this one. In some ways, that made it more interesting, because Jon was able to talk to us about the process of working with Geoffrey, whom he hadn’t met before being “interviewed” for the role of co-author on this project. I suspect that we’d have heard little from Jon had Geoffrey been there.
Jon Hotten seems like a gentle individual, who warmed to his subject/co-author while recognising that Geoffrey Boycott is a complicated character, loved by some and loathed by others. Jon’s talk was fascinating. The question and answer session also very interesting.
It was John’s turn to choose and my turn to pay. We had arranged the date some weeks before, so when the Sunday came around and I still hadn’t received joining instructions from John, I wondered – by SMS in John’s direction – whether the evening was still on.
Leave it with me…
…said John, followed not all that long after by a message that read:
Brat.
A bit harsh on my character, I thought. I was only trying, politely, to confirm the arrangements.
But John didn’t mean “brat” as an assessment of my character, he meant BRAT Restaurant in Shoreditch, a high-class Basque food place.
John’s follow up messages clarified the arrangements and suggested that we meet an hour before the restaurant booking, as he had secured a cocktail booking at The Umbrella Workshop, an interesting cross between a shop, a tastings venue and a bar, hidden away in an old workshop alley not far from BRAT.
Here’s John trying to look like a serious cocktail drinker in The Umbrella WorkshopI’m hopeless with pre-meal drinks these days, so I went for a soft version
Superb cocktails, both the alcoholic and the non-alcoholic ones. I’d quite like to try the alcoholic cocktails there, perhaps one day after taking some food without any other form of alcohol.
I did taste John’s cocktail – an exotic and really quite amazing variation on an old fashioned. This place really does, seriously do cocktails. It is very small and very friendly. Further, if you like ska, rock steady and reggae, then the play list will be for you.
Then on to BRAT. Super place, located above the Smoking Goat. Here is a link to the sample menu, which is similar to the menu we saw on our evening there.
The place is renowned for its large sharing turbot dish, but we eschewed that one in favour of trying several different things. The helpful waitress recommended four starters and two mains plus sides to share, which was spot on.
We started with:
Fresh Chorizo
Spider Crab Toast
Young Leeks, Walnut & Fresh Cheese
Velvet Crab Soup
I cannot eat walnuts, but John really fancied the leek & walnut dish. Soup doesn’t share easily, so we agreed to go for two sharing options plus a bespoke starter each.
For mains and sides, we had:
Brill ‘pil-pil’ with Cockles
John Dory
Smoked Potatoes;
Wood Roasted Greens.
All of the above dishes were amazingly good. John and I debated at length whether we thought the brill or the John Dory the better dish. Both were exquisite and quite different in style. The brill dish slightly spicy, the John Dory more citrus-tangy.
The headline photo shows John with the spider crab toast.
Here’s me attacking the velvet crab soup
We also shared a bottle of Basque wine: Gorrondona, Txakoli de Getaria, Pais Basco, Spain 2020. It complemented the food well.
We don’t go to people’s houses much for dinner any more. We don’t have people round to our house much either.
I guess the dinner party has sort-of gone out of fashion, but it really shouldn’t have done so, as it is a very pleasant way to spend an evening with friends old and new.
I have known Jilly for many decades – since we were youngsters at BBYO. Similarly Simon – in fact I have known Simon for longer than I have known Jilly…and Jilly has known Simon for even longer than that blah blah.
Simon…so sensible back then.Jilly was even more sensible…and in colour
We were also supposed to be joined by Timothy, but he had somehow managed to get a diary clash, having agreed to accompany Simon’s mum to see András Schiff at The Wig.
Ruth and Daniel are good friends of Jilly’s from the locality, which means Watford and also means that they too have known Jilly for decades…just not as many decades as me and Simon…about as many decades as Janie has known Jilly.
Anyway, point is, it was a really super evening. Jilly made a wonderful meal, with a slightly spicy tomato soup…
