This year I partnered Richard Prosser, with whom I had partnered successfully for The Dedanists’ against The Hamsters in the autumn. We came close in The Lowenthal, qualifying for the semi-final but losing narrowly there to the eventual winners, Candida Nicholls, who partnered my former winning partner, Sebastian Wood.
Needless to say, everyone’s a winner on the Dedanists’ Society day, as we get to play together, eat together and raise some dosh for the good cause together.
Smiling faces in the headline photo tell the tale.
24 May, The Dedanists’ v The Jesters Match & Dinner
Yes, dinner is at least as important, if not more important, for these Dedanists’ events in May. Most of the Jesters who join in are also Dedanists – there is often some doubt as to which team each participant will represent. I ended up representing The Dedanists’ partnering François Menagé, from Paris, whom I had not met before. With such a name, I imagined a French gentleman and wondered whether I needed to master the French words for “up”, “yours” etc. in order to communicate successfully during play. But François Menagé turns out to be a Franco-Mauritian who was educated in England and with whom I was able to swap tales of Mauritius from 40+ years ago:
I’m sure François would agree that neither of us played quite at our best. For sure we were bettered by my nemesis Candida and her partner Richard Pettit, who both nevertheless made splendid dinner companions at the meal afterwards.
I always enjoy these Dedanists’ occasions – this May 2024 double bill was no exception.
The piece is basically an adaptation of a book by Maggie Nelson, which is a narrated story, more in the form of a poetic meditation than a novel.
All of the cast were excellent: Emma D’Arcy, Kayla Meikle & Ben Whishaw – especially the former.
The use of film projections and intriguing props, which we often find a distraction when we see them used in theatrical productions, worked extremely well in this piece. I have subsequently read the book and realise that the visual devices were, in a way, a distraction from some of the words, but in a good way given the dramatic sense those devices gave to the production.
Reviews are out now, although we saw a preview. (IT has taken me a few weeks to get around to writing this up). Click here for a link that shows the reviews. The reviews are mixed. londontheatrereviews.co.uk shared our feeling that this was as an excellent example of theatrical productions using projections. But I sense that Susannah Clapp in The Observer was more intrigued by the piece than overboard about it. Time Out found it a bit obscure, as did theartsdesk.com
Click through the preceding link, read the reviews…and if you get the chance, see the show and decide for yourselves!
Long in the planning, this week off was a much-needed short vacation for me and Janie, having had no holiday time for yonks.
Yet we nearly didn’t even get started, as I had some sort of mishap at the start of the weekend before we set off.
Saturday and Sunday 11 & 12 May – Something’s Afoot
I woke up on Saturday morning feeling sore just under the lateral left ankle. Janie said I had been thrashing around, seemingly in pain, during the night. She had assumed cramp. I had no recollection of such thrashing but this felt like more than cramp.
An attempt to run it off playing tennis on Saturday morning (perhaps a foolish move) did not help; indeed I couldn’t even walk by the time we got home. Despite us spending Saturday afternoon and evening doing the RICE routine with the foot, come Sunday morning, I could still take no weight on the foot and was really concerned that our trip might be in jeopardy.
I thought I should inform Alastair Robson, one of The Doctors Of Leamington, who had organised the tennis and luncheon aspects of the trip: Leamington on the way up on the Monday and Moreton Morrell on the way home on the Friday.
Me & Alastair, no doubt talking balls, at Leamington in 2023
I regret to inform you that I have done myself a mysterious mischief around the ankle…Janie heard me scream out in pain during the night Friday (I have no recollection of it) and/but I had some sensitivity below my lateral ankle yesterday. I thought I could “shake it off”, as the young folk say, but by last night and this morning I was more or less completely non-weight bearing.
We suspect the anterior talofibular ligament, which is utilising its right to remain silent but is looking more than a little guilty this morning.
The upshot as of this morning is that I cannot weight bear on that leg again yet, let alone run. I am hopeful that my condition will improve quite rapidly but I don’t suppose I’ll be properly balanced/mobile again for a while.
I am happy to present myself at the tennis courts Monday and Friday to do the best I can, but the best I can might not be much good. Janie and I would love to lunch with you if the friendly games and lunches go ahead, either with me or without me playing the tennis.
Alastair sent a quintessentially retired-doctor’s (or more accurately, a quintessentially Alastair Robson) reply:
Aargh! But never dismiss the power of prayer (the Dr using irony as treatment – lost on some of the patients)…
There will be a pro knocking around in both clubs on the days in question, so we could always rope him in as a fourth, if need be…
Anterior talo-fib ligament?- a very flash diagnosis: going for Honours, I presume.
A small sacrifice – a goat, say – to Jupiter might speed healing rate.
‘Better soon’ – as I also used to say a lot –
We did consider prayer and/or goat sacrifice – after all, the doctor had recommended it and you should always listen to the doctor, but decided to persevere with the RICE method. Within a few hours, I detected improvement and wrote again to Alastair:
When you have a podiatrist in the house, the phrase “sprained ankle” is simply not specific enough. I’m certainly not aiming for yet more flashy honours at my age and stage!
Janie and I are neither praying to God, nor gods, nor sacrificing any beasts in hope rather than expectation. But elevation yesterday evening, immobilisation overnight, ice this morning and the more meaningful sacrifice of the hour of lawn that Janie and I should be playing this morning, is, so far, paying significant dividends. I’m still hobbling but can weight bear again now and the intense pain has subsided.
Your Plan B regarding the pros availability as substitutes sounds ideal in the circumstances. Given the trio of talent that would remain on show if I were to need to stop, the pros will no doubt be resorting to prayer and caprine/ovine sacrifice for the next 24 hours/few days respectively.
See you tomorrow as planned.
Monday 13 May – Leamington For Tennis, Then On To Stratford-Upon Avon
By the Monday morning my left foot felt much better and I was happy to drive (which mostly works the right) and give the real tennis a try.
John Yarnall & I partnered well, I felt
Remarkably, I was barely hampered at all and I thought played pretty well, John Yarnall & I partnering well against Alastair and Norman Hyde. The latter two, me and Janie went to lunch at Cote, then Janie and I set off for Stratford.
We got to our Airbnb cottage around 17:00, which gave us time to dump our things and go off to the local Waitrose to get some provisions, before getting ready to go out to the theatre.
Our lovely cottage was located to the south-west of the centre, being about 10 minutes walk from the central shops, restaurants and theatres.
It was a bit wet in the evening, but still we strolled to The Other Place for our show, English, which I have written up separately – click here or below.
The weather relented into a very pleasant late afternoon.
On our way to the talk, we stopped at Marcos, which I had assessed as “the deli most likely” for our trip. I was a bit short of the sort of coffee I like so we bought a pack of cafetière coffee. We showed interest in the food too, but I suspect Tony was not expecting to see us again when we departed on Tuesday, as he greeted us so warmly the next morning when we returned for bread and lasagne.
The talk about English was very interesting – described in the above piece about our visit to the show…or click here for that link.
After the talk, but before our dinner at Lambs, we had a drink in the garden of The Arden. This was a nice treat for us, as we stayed at The Arden last time we stayed in Stratford, in 2019, but the weather had not smiled enough for us to take a drink in the garden that time.
We enjoyed ourselves at Lambs so much Janie forgot to take “food porn” photos of our dinner. Take our word for it, it looked as good as it tasted. We ate:
Crispy Sweet Chilli Duck Salad with watercress, beansprouts and cucumber
Pan-fried Calves Liver with creamed potato, wilted spinach, pancetta and crispy shallots
Pork Chop with grilled hispi cabbage, creamed potato, crispy shallots, cider and bacon sauce
Bennett’s Farm Ice-cream
Yum.
Wednesday 15 May – Tennis, Town & Terrace
The weather was lovely on this day. We resolved to get some bread and some portions of lasagne from Marcos, which would enable us, together with the provisions we had already procured, to self-cater that day.
Problem was, we resolved to get to Marcos reasonably early to secure bread, but hadn’t taken into account the fact that the pasta dishes are not ready that early.
Had we phoned in advance…
Still, no hardship having a couple of hours to kill in Stratford. We decided to wander around town and also wander across the bridge to the Sports Club, to investigate tennis possibilities in person.
We bought some doggie gifts in the dog shop for Kim’s pooch. Then some sandals for me and shoes for Janie in the shoe shop. Then we strolled by the river and across the bridge to the sports centre.
The Sports Club people were friendly enough – they let us look at the tennis courts and informed me that I could register as a guest and pay to play if we wanted to. The courts are mostly carpet, with three being “euro clay” -i.e. synthetic clay (sand-like stuff) on a matting base. We thought we’d like to try the latter.
We strolled home via Marcos, where our lasagne and bread was waiting for us. Then we booked our tennis and readied ourselves for battle.
It took us both a while to get used to the clay-like bounce and/but we had a very good game on that surface, so we resolved to return the next morning, weather permitting.
After a light, late lunch of bread and prawn cocktail, we enjoyed the rest of the afternoon on the lovely, sunny terrace of our cottage. Then a restful evening in, enjoying our lasagne with salad and wine.
Thursday 16 May – Tennis, Coffee Shopping & Theatre
So taken had I been with the coffee I bought from Marcos (PNG Fire Dance from Monsoon Estates Coffee) I did some Googling and discovered that the company was a local importer/blender. I called them on the Thursday morning and they said that we could visit their place. I had booked a 10:00 tennis court so we agreed to visit Monsoon at 11:30.
We had another really good game of tennis. Glad I booked 10:00, as the threatened showers started soon after we finished playing – indeed while we were on our way to Monsoon.
Monsoon Anne
Anne and Chris at Monsoon were super friendly and helpful. We left with 3kg of coffee beans and the wherewithal to order more from them on-line once we need more.
Me, ready to make off with the stash
We stopped at Waitrose on the way back to get some cheeses and grapes for our lunch. We figured that those, plus some smoked mackerel we had procured on our first visit, would get us through this day.
A splendid late lunch of cheeses followed by some rest before the evening show made for a very enjoyable day. Plenty of time to get the salad ready for our post-show nosh too.
We saw The Buddha of Suburbia that night, which I have written up separately – click here or below:
A light supper on our return was just the ticket, as we didn’t get home until 10:00ish. It rounded off a great day very nicely.
Friday 17 May – Home Via Moreton Morrell & The Antelope Lighthorne
We said goodbye to our lovely little cottage in Stratford, setting off a little too early for our appointment at Moreton. We had ordered some more of Marco’s bread so stopped there on the way out of town, then went and had a quick look at the Welcombe Hills Obelisk/monument.
Been there, seen it, done it.
Then on to Moreton, where I was to partner Alastair this time, against the combined forces of Peter Mason and Bernie Spratt. For some reason Janie only shot video of this epic match. Fortunately for you, only a few seconds of “footage” survived.
The Moreton floor has been completely redone since my last visit. I found it hard to adjust to the new surface at first, but played reasonably well towards the end. The pairings worked well to make a good game.
The Antelope Lighthorne was a very pleasant country pub in which to take lunch and decompress after our efforts. Peter was unable to join us on this occasion but the four who remained, me, Janie, Alastair and Bernie, had a thoroughly enjoyable lunch.
An event-free drive home – how come I can drive 90+ minutes out of London without incident, while the London driving seems to be close to an incident or near miss every 90 seconds? – enabling us to unload and enjoy a relaxing Friday evening at home.
It had truly been a fun-packed and enjoyable break.
To round off our short break in Stratford, we had arranged to see The Buddha of Suburbia.
I read this novel “back in the day” and remember really wanting to like it and enjoying the subject matter yet not liking it all that much as a novel. I also recalled that it had been turned into a TV series “back then”, which I didn’t see but which I imagined might have been a better medium for the story than the novel.
Thus, all those months ago when we planned this trip, I told Janie that I fancied seeing this show and she needed little persuading.
We are so glad we chose it.
The Swan was an excellent setting for this production
We pretty much agree with the main points that flow from the reviews. On the whole we are not mad about long shows, but this seemed a breeze to us despite being close to three hours long (including the interval).
The 1970s look and soundscape was a trip down memory lane for us, much as it was for Hanif Kureishi I suppose. The main sentiment is joyous celebration of the era and coming of age, but there was plenty to think about too, in terms of the ugly aspects of that era, not least overt racism.
We sat in the front row, which got us caught up in the one small piece of audience participation in this show. That was mostly directed at Janie but also, in the end, also at me.
Maybe I shouldn’t have worn THAT shirt.
Still, we survived the experience and anyway Janie and I are used to people laughing at us.
At the time of writing there is as yet no sign of a West End transfer, but surely this wonderful piece will lend itself to a decent and successful run in The Big Smoke.
We saw a preview on our first night in Stratford-Upon-Avon. The next day, we went back for a talk and discussion with several of the creatives for this production.
Janie and I really enjoyed this play/production. We had just arrived in Stratford on a four-day short break and were quite tired that evening. Nevertheless this play held our attention throughout, making us smile., laugh and think in equal measure.
It is set in an “English As A Foreign Language” class in Karaj, Iran, c2008. A class of four, each with their own reason for wanting or needing to attend this class and gain a “Test-Of-English-As-A -Foreign-Language” certificate are taught by a hugely enthusiastic Iranian woman who loves the English language and tries to instil that enthusiasm in her variously enthusiastic, reluctant and/or cognitively-conflicted students.
A recipe for some interesting drama, which is exactly what we got.
As we saw one of the last previews, I suspect that little will have changed since we saw this production. Having said that, as we ascertained at the talk/discussion the next day, director Diyan Zoya is very hands-on in working with a cast to improve continuously throughout and beyond the preview period.
In the discussion, we saw and heard from not only Diyan Zoya but also Maria Tarokh (movement and cultural advisor) and Sara Amini (assistant director text and dialect). The discussion was led by Conrad Lynch, who has produced the show.
We thought the play and production excellent. Reviews have started to come out (he says, writing just a few days after the press night). This link is a search term that should find most or all of them. The reviews so far have been mixed, with Dominic Cavendish in The Telegraph not liking it a lot and Arifa Akbar in The Guardian slamming it. Yet it gets good or excellent reviews from Amya Ryan in the Times, Michael Davies in WhatsOnStage and Catherine Love in The Stage to name but three others.
Perhaps best to see it and judge for yourselves – Janie and I thought it was 90 minutes very well spent in the theatre.
It looked like such a good idea in the flyer months ago…
We love The Orange Tree Theatre and try to support as much as we can, especially when it gets around to promoting new writing on topics that interest us.
Lord’s, present day. It’s the Women’s Cricket World Cup: England versus India. There’s a rain delay. Tensions mount, ambitions are laid bare and a whole new tactical game begins. Calcutta in the eighteenth century. Two British administrators in colonial India encounter challenges on the field of play that threaten the entire regime.
In this game of integrity and power, past and present collide. Kate Attwell’s funny and provocative play explores and explodes the mythology of fair play.
You’ll also spot some good-looking summary reviews if you click that link, so might conclude that Janie and I are in a minority when we report that we both found this play and production a dud.
Heaven knows, I might sometimes look like a caricature of an MCC member trying to look young and hip at Lord’s…
The problems we had with TESTMATCH were many and varied. We thought the script repetitive, the jokes mostly unfunny and the important points, of which there were many, delivered without subtlety and often with counter-effective impact if impact at all.
In truth, the whole piece felt like an excuse to discuss a whole heap of very real issues around race, gender, commercial power and fair play, delivered like me trying to hit the cover off a cricket ball with a long-handled bat – i.e. terrible mishits such that they either missed the metaphorical ball completely or hit that metaphor up in the air for a dolly catch.
We are used to suspending belief for theatre, but the notion that such conversations and action could possibly take place in The Lord’s Pavilion during a rain interval in a major women’s international match shows ignorance of how professional the women’s game has become in the 20+ years since Janie and I started following international women’s cricket.
And don’t get me started on the notion that women cricketers might have been advocating roundarm and/or overarm bowling at the time of the Great Bengal famine.
It was hard to tell whether the cast was limited by ability, the script or some eccentric directing, but the style of delivery came across to us as more like “try hard am-dram” than professional performance.
But heck, if you are considering seeing this play, you should read the theatre reviews, which I hadn’t read before writing the above. On the whole, they support our criticisms, but come down far more favourably on this production than we did. Click here for links to reviews.
For me, the highlight of the evening was getting to bowl at one of the performers a couple of times at the end of the interval. Had I realised it was supposed to be 1770, I’d have bowled underarm. And had I realised that my 20-30 mph dobblers would seem fast in the restricted space of The Orange Tree, I’d have tried to bowl even slower than usual.
Is it possible to bowl slower than this?
A member of the audience even praised my bowling as we left. A gentleman who is easily pleased, he might well have also enjoyed the play.
It’s been a while, what with one thing and another, since John White and I have had a dinner and catch up…just the two of us.
It was time to put that matter right and through the trusty services of this Ogblog, which some consider to be a fifth emergency service, we ascertained that it was John’s turn to choose the restaurant and my turn to burst into tears when the bill is presented.
We washed that down with a bottle of Austrian Riesling (absent from the on-line wine menu, I notice).
We nearly chose the oysters, but as we were just one day away from the months with no Rs in them, we thought better of it.
All was going swimmingly well, until the portion of dumplings arrived.
Three dumplings to be precise.
Three absolutely succulent, delicious and tempting-looking dumplings.
The following dialogue ensued:
JOHN: Oh dear! Typical! A portion of three for two people to share.
WAITER: You’ll just have to fight over the third one.
ME: Do you have any boxing gloves?
WAITER: I think so, I’ll check at the back and bring them with the rest of your dishes.
Matters took a darker turn when the portion of three Black Tiger Prawns arrived -[did you see what I did there?]
WAITER: A portion of three prawns.
ME: Have you found the boxing gloves?
WAITER: No, can’t find them.
John and I were then briefly and thankfully distracted by the need to sing “Happy Birthday To You” to the nice Filipino gentleman at the next table to us, having been set up for the performance by the Irish partner of the birthday-nik.
This is exactly the sort of thing for which I have been taking singing lessons with John’s daughter, Lydia, for the last four years:
John & I talked about many things, not least our very different experiences of revising for our finals 40 years ago…or in my case finding extraordinary ways to avoid doing so. John basically put his head down for 12 weeks after being elected as a sabbatical, whereas I…didn’t. I only mentioned two of the three pieces linked below over dinner, as this first of them – relevant to John and other friends for many other reasons, was un-writ until the next day:
All too soon it was time to pay. It was at this juncture that matters took a potentially violent turn. While reaching into my pocket to get out my gadget…
…the smart phone which doubles as a payment card for goodness sake. What did you think I meant? And stop sniggering at the back…
…I dropped John’s new business card (or should I say card for his new business) on the floor. These days, contact details are mostly exchanged through QR codes and links like this one, but never mind.
John was apoplectic with faux rage and challenged me to a duel in Hanover Square.
I had visions that I needed to say yes in order to prevent the beautifully appointed Dania restaurant ending up looking like the scene below.
I realised afterwards that John’s Hanover Square challenge was merely a device to encourage me to walk in that direction with John, after dinner, where he could pick up the Elizabeth Line and I could pick up the Central Line.
In any case, surely John knew that there is a clear sign on the boundary of Hanover Square that reads, “no duelling, unless it is the first day of the month, with an R in it”.
Health and safety gone mad, but don’t get us old gits started.
John sometimes struggles with multi-clause rules, so I am reliably informed that he turned up at Hanover Square the next morning, 1st May, with his second, expecting me to do likewise and duel with him.
Naturally, I’ll now live in dread of 1st September for the next four months. Still, hopefully we’ll get together before that. If our next get together includes Mandy and Janie, I expect that the duelling challenge will be long forgotten by 1st September.
Last year all four of us at peace in Pahli Hill
Joking apart, it was a really enjoyable (and peaceful) evening, as always, with John.
We liked the participation elements of the show and threw ourselves into those with reckless abandon.
Mucking about inside a black bag…or rather, “performing Bag Piece” as I should properly describe it, seemed like my idea of fun…
…until I realised that I needed to get up again and get out of the bag…
Rescued by a helpful exhibition steward who also kindly consented to being photographedJanie seemed more at home in a black bag
Then on to an exhibit where you can draw (and/or photograph) your companion’s shadow on the artwork.
Some wags might suggest that I look better in the shadowthan in real lifeA rare opportunity to vandalise an art work with both a hammer & the artist’s consent.Has Janie missed me while I was messing with the art works?
Then on to the refugee boat piece for some more graffiti art
Janie was then horrified to learn that our next contribution to Yoko’s art required us to eulogise our mothers.
Oh crikey!Let’s work on this one togetherResultBottomsI think I’ll play whiteMore messages of peace even in the lobby outside the exhibition
And in the new swanky bar on the river side of the Tate Modern…
…a message in a bottle of ginger beer.
We enjoyed our afternoon. Shame about the rush hour journey home, saved by dint of using the Elizabeth Line westbound instead of the Central.
“Don’t mess with my partitas, mate!”, Heinrich Biber
Hmmm, we were neither of us sure about this one. We really enjoyed bits of it, while spending some of our listening time hoping for certain pieces to end.
Queenslander Brett Dean comes across as a genuinely nice bloke who surrounds himself with musicians who like to play with him. His compositions, though, borrow from well-known composers and tunes, deconstructing and reconstructing them in ways that could only please ears wired differently from ours.
Brett claimed that the music in his concert spanned the 16th to the 21st century, only omitting the 19th century. I would dispute that claim. His “some birthday” piece of 1992 is a sort-of variations on the tune we know as “Happy Birthday To You”, which was first published in 1893 as “Good Morning To All” in “Song Stories for the Kindergarten” by Patty and Mildred J. Hill. While the Hill’s copyright is famously disputed, that tune is surely 19th century.
Here’s the oldest known version – let’s not even think about what Brett’s version looks like on the page
Anyway…
…here’s a nice recording of the first movement of Biber’s 7th parthia, which was the first piece we heard:
Janie and I both found George Benjamin‘s piece too weird for us. George kindly turned up to take the applause afterwards – turns out he’s a Londoner. Here’s a recording of it enabling you to judge for yourselves:
Byrd’s Fantasia pieces are lovely little vignettes. That segment was too short (or there were too few of them) for my taste. Here’s a nice example of one played by a consort of viols (almost certainly what Byrd had in mind) rather than violas and cello – which we heard and still sounded lovely:
The highlight of the evening, for us, was to see the young gifted harpsichordist/pianist Xiaowen Shang play with such joy and expression. For us she played Byrd’s Earl of Salisbury pavan and galliard, plus The Bells – both favourites of mine – on the harpsichord. Below, a video of her playing a lovely piece of Bach on the piano:
The Earl of Salisbury pavan is such a favourite of mine. Xiaowen played it beautifully, if a little twiddley for my taste. Below is Janie’s hand-held recording of Reuben Ard playing it on the electric virginals at Hampton Court Palace last year, for my Gresham Society event there:
Let’s not talk too much about the things Brett Dean did to Byrd’s beautiful pavan and his take on Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No 6. Imagine PDQ Bach in a really bad mood, unable to make jokes.
“There’s nothing funny about feet either” (Janie, attrib. PDQ Bach)
It seemed to take an age to segue from Brett’s “treatment” to the concerto itself, which was a rather glorious and suitable choice of closing number for a concert that focussed to a large extent on the idea of two violas. By the time the concerto finally arrived, we thought we’d more than earned some ear candy.
Here’s a lovely rendering of the Bach by some sensible Dutch people who don’t mess with it:
“Is that it?”, asked Janie as the applause rang out for the Brandenburg.
To a late evening jazz concert in the crypt of St John’s Smith Square. The Harry Baker Trio. A young bunch. We’d not seen or heard of them before, but that’s our problem, not theirs.
A small, select audience. A few younger people, plus one or two other tables of seasoned folk like ourselves.
Here’s a short video of the three of them playing one of Harry Baker’s own moody compositions, which we thought were rather good:
But most of the evening comprised them playing standards, the most effective of which were the livelier ones: St Thomas by Sonny Rollins, Empty Pockets by Herbie Hancock, something less well-known by Thelonious Monk and Tempus Fugit by Bud Powell.
These three know what they are doing and play without pretention and with evident joy.
We very much enjoyed our evening. Good luck to them.
