This is a fascinating and original piece of theatre.
The audience sits in a circle. Each member of the audience receives a book, which we are taken through as the performance goes on. At some stages of the performance, audience members are asked to read lines or passages of text.
If it sounds weird, that’s because it is weird. But it is a play; the performances are excellent and memorable.
Tim Crouch is an interesting playwright and performer. We have seen his work before; Adler & Gibb which we really liked, plus The Author which we found impenetrable.
This evening’s short (70 minute) piece was not impenetrable but you did need to interpret pictures form the book as well as the words to get the gist of the story. I enjoyed that part of the process more than Janie did.
I was also quite comfortable reading out loud a bit, which I did, while Janie scrupulously avoided eye contact with the performers to be sure that she wasn’t picked for reading out loud.
I am glad that I bought a copy of the book – which is available in paperback to buy – not the hardbacks lent out for performance – because the illustrations as well as the words are a pleasure to look at again and again.
Actually the story of this one starts a few weeks earlier; the Friday of the Lord’s test between England and Australia. 16 August. A rather wet day as it turned out.
Charley “The Gent” Malloy was my guest that day; our last visit to the Compton Stand prior to its demolition. In fact we got less than two hours of cricket before the rain came…then came and went for a while…then the rain came and made sure that those of us who had stuck it out for a while knew that it was time to go home.
In our rush to flee the mid August rain, Charley’s old faithful Heavy Rollers cap ended up in my bag.
We corresponded on the matter and I promised to put the cap in my “Lord’s bag” ahead of our next meeting; this 10 September date.
But come the morning of 10 September:
I was rushing around like a mad thing getting the picnic ready;
Life had intervened on countless matters to make “Charley’s cap” a little lower on my memory list than certain other things;
The weather forecast said that the day would be cloudy and possibly even a bit nippy.
So when the time came to load up the bags, I thought I could safely offload stuff I wouldn’t need, such as sun screen, sun glasses and what on earth did I need three caps for…one Middlesex cap might even be one to many but I’d retain just that one.
In short, I clean forgot that the Heavy Rollers cap in the bag was Chas’s, promised for return.
To add insult to injury, the morning turned out to be a gloriously sunny one, quite contrary to the weather forecast, rendering several of the rejected items desired items and naturally inducing Chas to enquire about his cap quite early in the day.
Neither of us bathed ourselves in glory during the ensuing post mortem.
Chas was bowling metaphorical googlies at me while I tried to maintain order
Chas was convinced that I was only teasing him and that I really did have the cap with me. I tried to get Chas to share the blame for the mistake, by suggesting that, if it really mattered that much to him, Chas might have sent me a reminder…
…we declared a truce, ironically after seeing Tom Helm receive his county cap, ahead of a lunchtime perambulation on a glorious early autumn day.
Chas, uncapped
Chas’s disposition continued to improve in the Warner, after perambulation, as we tucked in to the picnic of Alaskan salmon bagels, London sour sandwiches containing chicken with elderberry, lovage and lemon stuffing and a bottle of rather juicy Gewurtztraminer.
Middlesex bowled well to extinguish Durham for a modest score and then batted poorly to end the day behind the game.
I did offer Chas the opportunity to stop off at Clanricarde Gardens to collect his precious cap on the way home, which in many ways makes sense from Chas’s ease of journey home point of view. So that’s what we did at the end of a really enjoyable day at the cricket.
Next day selfie with old-style Heavy Rollers cap…MY Heavy Rollers cap
Anyway, fear not. I got a message from Durham fanatic Madz, otherwise known as 668, also otherwise known as Blackbird…wondering if I’d be around in the pavilion on Thursday for the climax of this match. She was planning on meeting up with some of the Durham regulars there.
As it happened, my meetings/scheduled calls all concertinaed into Wednesday enabling me to do that.
I assumed that Madz stands for Madeleine and thought that she might be amused by eponymous cakes as a peace offering. Which, in a way, she was.
Anyway, it took until just before lunch for Madz to find her way to the pavilion by which time I’d made almost no headway with my reading as I’d been chatting with a fine fellow in the writing room.
By the time I found Madz, she was sitting with a gentleman named Pelham who seemed astonished that I’d head of Pelham Humfrey as well as Pelham Warner. Even more astonished when I said that I’d witnessed some Pelham Humfrey recently:
Madz quizzed me about the nicknames Ged and Daisy for me and Janie, suggesting that it was all a bit confusing. I omitted to mention that Madz or do I mean 668 or do I mean Blackbird has (or at least had) plenty of on-line names of her own.
We half-agreed to regroup for the denouement after lunch, but by the time I’d taken some sun and finished reading my papers for tomorrow’s meeting, Middlesex had fallen apart yet again and crashed to defeat.
I walked home in glorious sunshine to find England in a relatively good position in the Oval test match…until they too collapsed before my eyes losing five wickets for diddly-squat on a flatty.
Perhaps I should give up watching my teams play cricket…until tomorrow.
The Compton & Edrich stands looked very sad in their half demolished state today.
I asked Charley “The Gent” Malloy and several other friends and acquaintances if they felt sad to see them go. We pretty much agreed that we didn’t. Not the best designed stands. Time to move on.
Still, the sight of it (or do I mean site of it?) brought on three particular memories I’d like to share.
Amsterdam – Keizersgracht Click picture for attribution and link
Gosh, this was a truly fascinating short play at the Orange Tree – our first venture to see a play for some while and a great start, from our point of view, to our autumn season at the theatre. We were seeing a preview.
This is not a naturalistic piece. The cast of four narrate the piece, about an unnamed Israeli violinist who is 9 months pregnant living in an apartment in Amsterdam, on the Keizersgracht (one of the canal-side streets).
Are we merely being taken on a voyage through the violinists own febrile, paranoid imaginings or is this a thriller about the uncovering of secrets from Amsterdam’s era of Nazi occupation or are we witnessing a strange brew, mixing those things?
Janie would have preferred some more answers by the end of it, whereas I thought this 80 minute piece was very deliberately leaving a trail of enigmas and unanswerable questions, while at the same time keeping us entertained and weaving sufficient plot lines to tell a story.
All four cast members were excellent; we’d seen Fiston Barek and Hara Yannas recently at the Orange Tree. Daniel Abelson and Michal Horowicz were also strong.
We’d also seen director Matthew Xia’s work at the Orange Tree recently. The style is a bit “workshoppy”, but I think that is the nature of the play and it is hard to imagine how the piece might work in a more stagey syle.
But the greatest plaudits from me go to the writing. I have now read and seen one heck of a lot of plays, so it is rare now to find a writer’s voice so novel and pleasing. For sure I will look out for Maya Arad Yasur’s work again.
Did Janie and I decompress/discuss at length over Spanish food at Don Fernando’s this time? Of course we did.
Did we get home in time to see Bianca Andreescu beat Serena Williams at Flushing? Yes, but only because Bianca kindly lost 4 games in a row (including a championship point) to keep the match alive long enough for us to get home and see the last two games.
Anyway, returning to the subject of Amsterdam at The Orange Tree; it’s running until 12 October 2019 and we would thoroughly recommend it to anyone who likes imaginative, modern drama.
Trent Bridge looked an absolute picture under lights
Regular Ogblog readers sometimes comment on the relentlessly positive light Ogblog sheds on life.
Some days make that task a little difficult. Take this day, for example. On the face of it, the focal point of the day was a trip to Nottingham and back to see my beloved Middlesex team being utterly thrashed in a quarter final cup tie. Soon after we set off for Nottingham, Janie called me to tell me she’d had her purse snatched with some cash and all of her credit cards stolen/ransacked. Meanwhile and throughout the day, England were having a pretty rotten second day in the Old Trafford Ashes test; a match England cannot lose if it is to retain hope of regaining the Ashes.
So, how do I take positives from such a day? I’ll try to draw up a list.
Also unlike last time, I didn’t need to drive to the match – Middlesex organised a coach trip for this fixture, which spared me a longer drive than I fancied and at least meant that I was in good company throughout the day;
We got to Trent Bridge some two hours ahead of the match. We strolled around that lovely ground making a close to full circuit (part outside, part inside) to our Radcliffe Road end hospitality. On the way, I met Mark Butcher and Rob Key who were kicking their heels prior to their commentary duties. King Cricket aficionados will be especially excited about the Rob Key encounter, I suspect;
The Trent Bridge hospitality was superb, as always. Several familiar Nottinghamshire faces and quite a substantial contingent from Middlesex. I met new Middlesex board member Edward Lord for the first time and Marilyn Smith, whom Janie and I met at Hove and whose son Ramon used to play tennis as an infant at Boston Manor, brought “little Ramon” with her, which showed that “little Ramon” ain’t so little any more. I had very enjoyable chats with all those people and plenty of others;
Clive Radley went back to the coach early, once the result was no longer in doubt, to finish off reading his book, which was about Auschwitz. As Clive and I agreed, that rather puts the idea of “having a bad day” into perspective;
Did I mention that Trent Bridge, which looks a picture at all times, looks especially so under lights? Worth saying and depicting again.
Lemn Sissay – from Wikipedia Commons – click pic for attribution
This sounded like a fascinating true story – which it is. Celebrated poet and dramatist, Lemn Sissay, spent his formative years as a foster child and in care where he experienced almost-unimaginable emotional cruelty and neglect.
He has spent much of his adult life working to uncover his true identity (he is of Ethiopian descent), together with a quest to understand his origins and unusually bleak early life.
It didn’t help when his lectern collapsed right at the start. Miranda Sawyer as Chair didn’t really help either as she, bless her, was almost as “all over the place” with the buzz of the fans as was Lemn Sissay.
The nadir came during the limited time for questions at the end, when a friend of Lemn Sissay’s took up a question slot in order to blurt out that she loved him. Even Lemn responded to that one by saying to her, “why don’t you just give me a call to tell me that” and Miranda said, “that’s a comment, can someone else please ask a question?”
Actually the questions were quite good and did help to cover many of the gaps from the preceding hour.
Are we glad we went? On balance, yes. Lemn Sissay is an engaging personality and he has such a troubling-but-interesting story to tell. I’d really like to have a quiet chat with him one day; I suspect he comes across better when he doesn’t have a mob of fans to please.
Janie and I had another big night out the next day; a double-birthday celebration with John and Mandy at Kitty Fisher’s.
Janie likes restaurants where you can see the kitchensNibbly starters
John and Mandy had enjoyed a day out in London ahead of our dinner, so were able to tell us about that and about the kids.
We don’t have to tell them any of our news, obviously, because it is all there to be seen on Ogblog. Yet still we did tell them our news too.
Meaty main courses and crispy potatoes that aren’t chips, apparently
The food was excellent, the service lively and unpretentious. We really liked this place.
On learning that it was a double birthday, the restaurant managed a mercifully low key way of helping us to celebrate:
John and Mandy very kindly bought me a small gift while enjoying their day out earlier in the day – we don’t normally do presents – requesting photographs of the celebratory footwear.
We’d all really enjoyed our evening, as evidenced (if evidence were needed) by the exchange of messages the next day.
Meanwhile, Janie and I took great pleasure in taking and posing (respectively) for those photos early the next morning:
“Sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me…”“Sock Long Marianne…”
It was jolly decent of Simon to arrange this gig to take place just across the road from Clanricarde Gardens, I thought. Janie and I both made sure we’d be free that evening to support.
Notting Hill Arts Club has had a bit of a makeover since we last attended a gig there, which must be 10-15 years ago.
The main purpose of the gig was to launch Simon’s second album, Baby Boomer, available on Spotify – click here – or on YouTube – click the picture link below.
Simon has used a fascinating technique to overcome the problem of the “troublesome second album following a successful first album”…
…he and his (self)-publicist have deemed the first album to have been a flop. Fiendish. Cunning. Daft. The following “interview” explains:
Anyway, despite all that John Shuttleworth meets Spinal Tap buffoonery, the album Baby Boomer really is very good and I think a big leap forward from the first album, Circle Line, which I also liked, btw.
At the start of the gig, Simon performed alone. In fact, the introduction and first number have been recorded for posterity – you can view those below:
Janie rapt with attentionOne of Simon’s sisters, Ruth, shooting the video
After a couple of numbers performed solo, or should I say, “accompanied by laptop”, Simon was joined by a real human being, Nick, on drums.
Timothy, Simon’s husband, rapt with attention.
It all got a bit more complicated when Simon attempted the opening track from the album, Please Hold, with laptop, keyboards, drummer and vocals…
…but after calling back a couple of times, Simon managed to perform that rather intricate piece with aplomb. One of my favourites from the album, that one – it reminds me a little of The Teardrop Explodes at the top of their form – praise indeed coming from me.
Here’s another track from the live performance:
Finally, here is the official video for one of my favourite tracks from the album, Optimistic…
…although, as Simon said when he introduced this number at the gig, he’s a bit less optimistic now than he was when he wrote that track.
Another story.
Actually, in his quest to remain uber-topical, Simon did perform one or two brand new songs. They are, presumably, to form part of the third album and the resulting next launch gig. Janie and I hope so – we are already looking forward to that. We very much enjoyed our evening for the Baby Boomer launch.
When Janie gets a mad on to see something, she tends to want to see it there and then. So although the movie Marianne & Leonard: Words of Love would probably be available to see somewhere long after the bank holiday weekend…
…and although it was carnival weekend and the only slot that might suit us was Sunday evening at the Curzon Victoria…
…off we went. Actually the journey wasn’t too bad.
Here’s the movie trailer:
It was a very interesting movie. Janie has long been fascinated by Leonard Cohen, his muse Marianne Ihlen and the interesting lifestyle they (and many others) had on the Greek island of Hydra in the 1960s.
The movie actually spans many decades, right up until the time, in 2016, when both Marianne and Leonard, coincidentally, succumbed to Leukaemia within a few months of each other.
The next day, we were invited next door to Joy’s for drinks and nibbles, where we met a nice Italian family who have just moved in to the neighbourhood. Coincidentally, the Italian gentleman was a huge fan of Leonard Cohen, although Cohen’s work is little known in Italy.
Janie and I look a little “Marianne & Leonard” in the following picture, taken that next afternoon at Joy’s…
…if you are prepared to use your imagination rather a lot.
..we had a free day in Brighton Wednesday. We both wanted to see the Royal Pavilion & adjoining stuff, plus do some shopping in the Lanes.
We set off from our charming Toll Cottage, opposite the Regency Tavern (depicted above).
The edgy, mean streets of Brighton, not too far from our digsYon pavilion entranceWithin the grounds
The nice Royal Pavilion staff persuaded us to buy a history pass which, for just £5 more than the Pavilion alone, would allow us to see the museum and Preston Manor. Deal.
No photos allowed inside the lavish, main Pavilion rooms (highlights: The Great Kitchen, The Saloon and The Music Room – the latter newly refurbished and especially stunning), but we assumed the rule did not apply to the cafe within, where we took a snack lunch:
Not wearing a tie in the Pavilion, Ged? Photograph inside the pavilion, Ged?
After the Royal Pavilion, a stroll through the gardens to the Museum, where photos are allowed.
There was also a superb exhibition of wildlife photography, most of which was exceptional and stunning:
Janie examines some specimensJanie emulates the Asian Sheepshead Wrasse; some sort of non-cis fish
After the museum, we venture into The Lanes, where I stock up on shirts at Pendulum and treated Janie to a leather jacket in a new boutique around there.
Then one of the rarest sights of all time; me buying baby clothes for Pip in a baby clothes emporium, Happyology, in North Laine. Even the lovely French shopkeeper looks stunned:
I tried to explain to Janie that there was no budget for dinner if we bought all that stuff but she didn’t listen and/or didn’t believe me, so after dropping off our purchases and having a brief R&R break, we ventured back to The Lanes to English’s Of Brighton.
Yum yum
On leaving town on the Thursday morning, we stopped off at Preston Manor to complete the set.
Seriously haunted, apparently.Is that some sort of raven apparition before the window?Ged examines the ultra-rare 16th century leather wallpaper.Not as posh a bed as one might imagineGhostly apparitions in the mirrorVaguely resembles the bathrooms in the Lord’s changing roomsThey don’t make Aspirator Vacuum Cleaners like they used to
After Preston Manor, back to London, where I had an appointment with the real tennis court at Lord’s and then with the Z/Yen team (plus Jez and some of his mates) for the Middlesex T20 match against Hampshire.
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