Travel, Theatre, Music, Cricket, Tennis, Writing, Life
This was the start of Joshua Redman’s tenure as curator of Wigmore Hall’s jazz.
I recall that we were very excited about seeing this one and yet a little disappointed with the concert in the end. We love the sound of sax, but there was something about four saxophones and nothing else that lacked colour for this jazz, to us anyway.
Here is a link to the Wigmore Hall stub for this one.
Masterful playing of course and we enjoyed our evening; just not as much as we’d hoped.
My weekend pages are a blank at this time, but by a process of elimination Janie and I must have seen this play on 13 October or 20 October 2012. Janie’s diaries (currently in the attic) might help solve that tiny element of the case.
At the time, in 2012, this cartoon-like 1970s play about some bizarre future White House regime, set about 40 years hence…i.e. about now…seemed crazy beyond belief.
Writing in 2018, I realise that the playwright, Jules Feiffer, merely lacked the imagination to envisage a Trump-like character in all his grotesqueness.
Here is a link to the Orange Tree resource on this play/production.
I don’t think Janie and I were overly smitten with this piece. It had its moments and some good acting – Bruce Alexander as the President I recall was a bit of a standout – but on the whole it seemed a bit silly and superficial to us.
I think the critics quite liked it on the whole – here is a link to a search on the reviews.
This was a bit unfortunate for us, as we were there for a preview and Phil Daniels had just been forced to pull out of the leading role, so we saw the understudy (Andrew Frame I think, although we might have had a temporary understudy our night) reading from the script.
Even so, I don’t think this was really our type of play.
The Cottesloe had been laid out like the House of Commons, with the audience on both sides forming the back benches.
The play is basically about the chaotic era of the hung parliament in the mid-to-late 1970s; not least the scheming of the whips to try to get some semblance of business done in trying times.
At the time of writing (March 2018) this seems like a hark back to halcyon days, but in 2012 I think we were supposed to be thinking, “thank goodness our 2012 coalition is so much saner and more stable – politics is just more mature now, isn’t it?”
Below is the trailer:
There were some amusing lines, but it was all a bit obvious and of course, as the case with all dramatisation of historical events, there was no suspense for us in the “what happens next” department because we lived through it all as youngsters.
As a play, it all felt a bit “tell” rather than “show”.
I have a lot of time for John Graham as a playwright but this one didn’t really do the business for us and I don’t think it was just the unfortunate understudy business – we’ve seen enough theatre to be able to adjust and allow for that.
We saw Beth (from downstairs) and her dad across the political divide; I discovered afterwards that they got more out of it than we did…
…as did most of the critics, who hailed the piece and the production – click here for a link to the reviews – so don’t listen to us.
You don’t have to be a Telemaniac (nor a Beliber) to have enjoyed this concert …but it helps.
We absolutely loved it, but then we are lovers of Baroque music by the likes of Telemann and Biber.
Further, we were treated to some early Baroque by Schein and Simpson, to whet our appetites and to show us how table music emerged as a genre in the 17th century.
Here is a link to the Wigmore Hall resource for that evening.
The Academy Of Ancient Music (AAM), bless ’em, have put their full programme up on their website, so I am sure this entitles me to add a link to their pdf – there is some really interesting reading material in the programme.
Below is a short vid that shows the AAM under Richard Egarr rehearsing a Telemann concerto – one of my favourites as it happens:
Below is a nice selection of Telemann Tafelmusik – but not by AAM:
Finally, for those unfamiliar with Thomas Simpson (as we were) who would like to hear a small sample – below a little woodwind sampler, provenance unknown beyond the YouTube details provided:
A few days after the end of our Olympic/Paralympic experiences, Janie and I returned to the scene of the (alleged but utterly refuted) crime from just before the Olympics; Richmond:
Mottled Lines by Archie W Maddocks, Orange Tree Theatre, 13 July 2012
This time we saw Yours For The Asking, a Spanish play from the late Franco era in the 1970’s.
Here is the Orange Tree resource on this play/production.
We rather liked this one. It was about a model who advertises a fragrance getting embroiled in a scandal. The themes seemed very modern and relevant in 2012; a prescient play in many ways.
The plot was a little hard to swallow and Sam Walters’ orthodoxy for not shortening scripts made it drag a bit, especially the second half.
Still, it was well performed by some of the Orange tree regulars and we thought it had been a worthwhile visit.
It didn’t go down too well with most of the critics – click here for a link to reviews.
Following our three days at the Olympic games for badminton, tennis and hockey, Janie and I were well up for our Monday at the Paralympic Games a few weeks later.
I booked a day at the ExCel Centre, as we hadn’t got to see any Olympic events there and I liked the spec. for such tickets, which was basically a confirmed booking for one sport at one time, with an open ticket to see any other sport that day, on a walk-up basis, if there were seats available.
We planned to get to the ExCel via North Greenwich Tube and then the Emirates Air Line Cable Car across the Thames. This was mostly an excuse to take a quick look at the O2 (at that point neither of us had been) and to try out the cable car.
When planning our day at the ExCel, Janie had marked off several sports on the schedule which she hoped to see. I suggested that we manage our expectations, as I knew the days had all sold out, so I thought that the “walk up” element might be very limited.
As it turned out, the days had clearly been sold with a view to most people moving around and watching several sports. The stewarding was of the very highest standard, so that each time we asked a steward for advice, along the lines of “we’ve already seen volleyball and are firmly booked to see boccia later, we quite fancy…what do you suggest we do next?” you’d get a sensible answer and help to find a good event to watch at that time.
Very cleverly planned and executed by the organisers and stewards respectively. The upshot was that visitors all seemed to be getting loads to see and every event had a large crowd. By that stage of that summer, believe me, the London crowds knew how to make noise and enjoy watching sport; any sport.
So, we started off with the seated volleyball, which was very exciting indeed to watch – I’d certainly volunteer to watch that again.
Then weightlifting, which frankly doesn’t float my boat in any format but was fascinating to see in its Paralympic form.
In truth, the boccia was the least watchable of the sports we saw, but it is a sport that severely disabled people can play. Or elderly people; indeed a few months later my mother proudly showed me a boccia certificate that she had won at Nightingale, although she didn’t quite remember what she had played or whether she had enjoyed playing it.
We rounded off our day with the table tennis, which was very exciting and watchable. In effect we sort-of got to see two sports in this event, as some of the matches were wheelchair while others were standing. As with lawn tennis, the wheelchair version of the game is quite different from the standing version of the game; both good to watch, just differently so. We watched the table tennis for quite a while before heading home, very satisfied indeed.
We loved this day; it is one of our favourite memories of that summer.
Well I have made my excuses for my poor memory of the Lord’s Test Match that year (Olympic summer blah blah)…
…they apply similarly to the ODI a couple of weeks later.
Here’s the scorecard – a happy ending for England this time.
It has the look of one of those “win the toss, bowl, win the match” one day matches that you tend to get at Lord’s in September.
I vaguely remember it being slow going and always feeling that England should be able to time and therefore win the chase, which they did.
But in truth, I think Janie and I had our minds half on our Paralympics day, which was all set for the next day.
Still, there’s no such thing as a bad day watching cricket at Lord’s, so for sure we had a good day.
I recall very little about this two-day visit. Perhaps it was the excitement of the Olympic summer that made this match pale, because looking at the scorecard the match was an absolute cracker:
I can’t even work out who joined me on the Friday; I think Janie came with me both days in the end. I can only find one e-mail, to Ian Theodoreson, quite late in the day, explaining that I had clean forgotten to sort out this match in all the excitement. He had to decline.
I recall arranging to meet Heinrich Groenewald and perhaps one or two others from his entourage during intervals, so I guess they had sorted themselves out with tickets way ahead. I know Janie was with me for those gatherings, which is one of the reasons I’m coming round to the idea that she joined me for both days that time.
I vaguely recall sitting in the Edrich Upper (or perhaps the Compton Upper) with Janie for this match. I think this might have been one of the occasions we had our ears bent by a pair of former Reuters journalists, who told us exactly the same old stories the second time as they had a year or two earlier, without twigging that we had sat next to them and heard their stories before. But whether this match was the first time or the second time we endured that pair I cannot recall. I think the second time…
…update! I am even more sure now that this was the second time, as I think I have uncovered the first time – click here or below:
England v India At Lord’s Days One And Two, 21 & 22 July 2011
But what a match (the 2012 one). Bitterly disappointing for England that they couldn’t quite turn things round and level the series, but on balance I think South Africa were the stronger side (just) at that time.
Yup, I blame the London 2012 Olympics for suppressing most of my memory of this one; unusually blank for me, this.
I don’t normally go for adaptations of my favourite novels, but something told me this would be well worth seeing and also that Janie would like it. I was right on both counts. It was probably down to the fact that Simon Stephens was adapting it and also the stellar-looking cast and creatives boasted.
It was a fabulous evening of theatre. This adaptation deserved the plaudits it received in the press and the many transfers and re-runs that have followed.
There is even a Wikipedia entry to document the play’s progress – click here.
…and so on.
From our point of view, this was a cracking night at the theatre. It was also darned close to the 20th anniversary of our very first date, in August 1992, which happened to be at the Cottesloe. There’s cute for you.
Janie and I were fortunate (or skilled) enough to get three sets of tickets in our Olympic Games application; badminton, tennis and hockey. We were thrilled with that. Add to it a day at the Paralympic games a few weeks later and that makes four really memorable days.
Our day at the Olympic Park to see women’s hockey was our only opportunity to see the park itself, so we needed no further invitation than the suggestion in the spectator guide that we ensure we arrive at the park plenty early. We indeed wanted a good amount of time to take in the atmosphere and enjoy a whole day.
We timed our journey and arrival to be outside any rush hours (business or Olympic) but early enough for a good stroll around the park before our afternoon of hockey started (at lunchtime).
Security, the stewarding, the atmosphere around the park was all wonderful, as was widely reported at the time. We’d had great experiences at Wembley Arena (badminton) and Wimbledon (tennis) by then, so expected nothing less. But all of that character together with the sheer size and scale of the park was something to behold and remember.
We still got to our seats in very good time and saw some players warming up:
The first game we saw was China v Japan.
I recall clearly that Japan won the match 1-0, thanks to a 54th minute goal by Komazawa…
…OK, I don’t remember a thing, apart from the fact that we were thoroughly enjoying ourselves and the crowd was getting well into it. All of the results of all of the matches, together with reports, can be found through the Wikipedia entry on the tournament – click here if you are that interested.
It was the second match, between South Korea and Belgium, that was especially memorable. Directly behind us, between the matches, had arrived a large contingent of Korean Buddhist monks. Had this been a cricket match in, say, the Eric Hollies Stand at Edgbaston, I would be talking about a bunch of beer-swilling Brummies in fancy dress, looking vaguely like monks.
But this was a sizeable posse of real Buddhist monks, with South Korean flags and prayer drums. As the game commenced they started to chant, “Dae Han Min Guk” very slowly and then beat out this phrase as five beats on their prayer drums.
Now there are several places where you can read about and see video of Korean soccer crowds making this chant rather rapidly – click here for but one (quite good) example – or alternatively try clicking here for a more percussive but less sporty outburst – but I cannot find examples anywhere of monks dispensing this chant and rhythm in a dignified, Buddhist stylee. So you’ll just have to take my word for it that the monks slow, profound version was an amazing, hypnotic sound.
I had in any case already decided to support South Korea for this match. After all, a South Korean publisher had ponied up some serious bucks for the rights to The Price of Fish – still available of course in the original Ameringlish (and now also available in all good South Korean bookshops and on-line – here). Whereas we still wait in vain for a Belgian publisher to do the right thing viz “Fish”.
So, naturally, Janie and I started joining in with the monks. Soon lots of people were joining in. Even children waving Belgian flags started joining in, only to meet reproach from their parents and then, in some cases, to ignore the reproach and continue to join in anyway. You get the idea.
I’ve no idea whether it was this extraordinary wall of sound or simply the comparative skill of the South Korean women, but our lasses won the game 3-1. The rather unfortunately named Kim Jong-eun (not to be confused with the Chairman of the Workers’ Party of Korea and supreme leader of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, Kim Jong-un) scored two of the goals.
We strolled a little more after the matches – we didn’t really want our day to end, but it was purposeful strolling really towards the best exit for our journey home. As was the way for just those few weeks of that summer, there was a friendly atmosphere amongst strangers on the tube home.