Three Vignettes From The Adverb Colander, December 2021

Rohan Candappa’s Adverb Colander

In a month during which almost everything was cancelled, apart from work, charity, exercise and political shenanigans…

…the adverb colander has literally (did you see what I did there?) helped to keep me sane. This relative sanity, despite the fact that the adverb colander is one of Rohan Candappa’s crazy ideas.

Last year, Rohan wrote and narrow-casted (within our little ThreadMash writing community) an adverb-inspired vignette each day during advent, having asked the ThreadMash community to send in three adverbs each. Rohan would draw that day’s adverb from the colander depicted above.

This year, Rohan again asked us all to chime in with adverbs, but this time the colander randomly allocated out those pesky modifiers for all of us to have a go…or two…or three.

I offered up:

Undeniably, Infrequently & Tediously.

The colander responded with the following adverbs for my inspiration:

Deeply, Rigorously, Nerdily.

Here are my three vignettes.

Deeply

An Spailpín Fánach, Tuckey Street, Cork by Mac McCarron, CC BY-SA 2.0

I don’t much like soccer football. I’m certainly not one to be deeply affected by a football match. But one match is deeply embedded in my psyche.  The Republic of Ireland v Albania in May 1992. 

Bobbie and I went to Ireland for a week at that time. My first proper break since my back injury two years earlier and my first ever visit to Ireland.  I didn’t take a camera and I didn’t take a notebook, making it the least documented trip I have ever taken abroad.

That football match between Ireland and Albania dominates my memory for two reasons. 

Firstly, I remember that, in the build up to the match, the Irish media was full of news about the visiting Albanian team.  Initially RTÉ news worried, on behalf of the visitors, because the weather was unseasonably cold in Ireland and the visitors reported an insufficiency of warm clothing. Two days later, RTÉ news appealed to the people of Ireland, asking them to stop sending jumpers, cardigans and the like to the Albanian team’s hotel, because the visitors were now inundated with warm clothing.

A deeply charitable nation, the Irish.

Also a nation deeply passionate about their sports teams.

The Republic of Ireland had done unexpectedly well in the 1990 Football World Cup. This May 1992 match was at the start of the qualification campaign for the next World Cup.

By the time the night of the match arrived, Bobbie and I had moved on from Dublin to Cork. Bobbie is a keen football fan whose dad was Irish. We resolved to watch the match in a suitable-looking pub near our hotel.

As usual in Irish pubs, Bobbie and I were warmly received as guests.

There was much genial chatter about the warm clothing news items. The vibe was also charged with keen expectation. The throng expected their now-successful Ireland team to win a qualification match against Albania.

At half time and beyond, with the score still at 0-0, the atmosphere in the pub became tense. Bobbie whispered to me that we should make a hasty exit if the match failed to go Ireland’s way.

Mercifully, Ireland scored a couple of goals in the last half-hour of the game, turning the mood into a memorably shebeen-like party, with plenty of drinking, singing and dancing, until late into the night.

Rigorously Draft v1.0

Not SARS-CoV – other coronaviruses are available…

Sally was super proud of her efforts over the past few months. The Advercol plc Covid Protocol Guide: DRAFT v1.0. Fifty carefully crafted pages, cross-tabulated with government guidelines, referencing journal articles on Covid protocol best practice and in-depth consultations with diverse Advercol stakeholders.

Last Friday, Sally had finally submitted the fruits of her labours for internal review to her boss, Jonathan, The Human Resources & Organisational Development Director.

Around 11:00 on Monday, Sally received a meeting request for a Zoom with Jonathan to discuss the Draft Guide.  A 15-minute slot on Thursday afternoon at 16:45. Jonathan must be pleased with her work, otherwise he would have scheduled a longer session to go through the document with her in detail. Sally clicked the accept button with a satisfied grin on her face.

Over the ensuing days, Sally imagined the reaction her diligence might have engendered. A nomination for a National HR Award, perhaps. Her work would fit well in the HR Innovation category and/or possibly Health & Wellbeing.  A Best In Show award, even, would not be beyond the bounds of possibility.

Yes, this Covid Guide assignment might well turn out to be career-defining for Sally. It had required attention to detail and boy had she deployed her trademark rigor. No wonder Jonathan had chosen her ahead of “Sloppy Simon” for the task.  Simon had acquired his unfortunate epithet before lockdown, when Jonathan had described Simon’s attempt at a revised Diversity and Inclusion Policy as “sloppy”, in front of the whole team. Poor Simon.

Thursday afternoon couldn’t come soon enough for Sally. She clicked the link as soon as the clock on her computer clicked from 16:44 to 16:45.  It seemed to take an age for Jonathan to arrive, just after 16:51.

“Afternoon, Sally”, said Jonathan. “Let’s try and keep this brief.  I need to take the kids to their after-school activities at five. OK? Great. Covid Guide. You’ve clearly put a lot of effort into this.”

“Thanks, Jonathan”, interjected Sally, “I’m glad you noticed”.

“Yes. Right. Thing is, Sally…”, Jonathan continued, “this Covid rules business is a bit of a moving target, don’t you think? I mean, the government changes tack more often than most people change their undies…”

“…indeed, Jonathan”, said Sally, “that’s why I have written protocols to cover so many eventualities…”

“…so we don’t want to over-complicate matters ourselves, do we, with too many in-house rules and stuff?”, continued Jonathan. “We could do with something a little more high-level and generic, don’t you think?”

“…umm, well, I thought…”

“…yes, indeed. So I have asked Simon to come up with a couple of pages. Quick and dirty. That should do us for now. This more detailed material might come in handy later, if or when this whole Covid thing ever settles down. OK? Oh, and Sally – let’s have a little chat about time management and proportionate effort at your next appraisal. OK?”

Nerdily

Oxyman / Covered walkway leading to Ladbroke Grove Sainsbury’s

“I’m leaving you”, said Emily.  “It’s the final straw. Everything I do, you criticise and redo nerdily.”

Stuart was taken aback. “But all I did was rewrite the shopping list in logical, aisle-by-aisle, item-by-item sequence. That’s basic logistics. It saves loads of time at the supermarket. Who wants to trudge back and forth in that crummy place, wasting valuable time?”

“I do”, Emily yelled. “I want to wander aimlessly around the aisles if I choose to do so. Sometimes, I want to spot and buy goods serendipitously.  I want to live – I want to be free”.

There was a long silence. Emily looking for signs of reaction on Stuart’s face. Stuart studiously avoiding Emily’s glare.

“Get real”, said Stuart. “Anyway, there’s no such word as nerdily”.

Emily jolted, then asked, “how the hell do you work that out?”

Stuart explained. “Nerdily is not in the Microsoft spellcheck and, more importantly, it’s not in the Scrabble dictionary. No. Such. Word. As. Nerdily.”

“Be that as it may, Stuart”, said Emily, “but everything you say and do, you say and do nerdily”.

“What If this Adverb Colander Thing Goes Viral?” I Hear Many Readers Ask

We’ll need a bigger colander…

…like this FoodCycle one which Janie and I helped rescue from the Greenhouse Centre kitchen – but that’s another story:

Drinks Reception In Marylebone Winter Garden Portman Square, Baker Street Quarter Partnership, In Aid Of FoodCycle, 2 December 2021

The Marylebone Winter Garden looked a picture, making it easy to photograph well.

We were thrilled when we learned that the Baker Street Quarter Partnership had selected FoodCycle Marylebone as its beneficiary charity for this season’s swathe of events.

Even more thrilled were we on receiving an invitation to join our benefactors for a drinks reception in Portman Square. Unfortunately, Janie couldn’t make the drinks, as she had arranged to do a Samaritans shift that very evening, but I joined several of our fellow FoodCycle-Marylebone-istas at the event; Kathy, Bill, Debs and her husband Adam.

An evening in Portman Square was a return to the scene of past “crimes” for me. Back in the late 1980s and early 1990s I spent a great deal of time in Hesketh House (now known as 43-45 Portman Square):

Formerly known as Hesketh House – someone’s left the light on in what was temporarily my fourth floor room – I hope it wasn’t me, as if it was, it’s been on for 30+ years.

I was known to “hang with the crowd” from there for a while…

Paul McCartney, Wembley Arena, 23 January 1990

…and even umpired a mini tennis tournament for them in Portman Square one summer – 1990 I think. The tennis court had been repurposed as a food and crafts fair for the 2021 Winter Garden season.

Anyway…

…not only did I stroll down memory lane, I got a chance to get to know some of our FoodCycle folk a little better and also to meet the lovely people from Baker Street Quarter Partnership who were helping to raise money for our cause.

I casually splashed some cash – or rather wafted my contactless card – on raffle tickets but thought little of that until one of my numbers came up. A dinner for two in the highly regarded Kitchen At Holmes.

The irony that I had won a slap-up meal for two, given that Janie and I have been volunteering à deux for the very food charity that was benefitting from the raffle, was not wasted on me, Janie, nor on those at the party. Janie and I will report back on the gift meal once we have enjoyed it – probably in the new year.

A relatively recent image of the two of us enjoying big city hospitality: Tokyo October 2018

I did consider phoning the Samaritans there and then to let Janie know our good news, but on reflection and on discussion with those around me, we concluded that it wasn’t exactly a crisis and that the good news could wait until later.

A brass ensemble for the brass monkey weather

Meanwhile we were serenaded by a superb quintet of brass virtuosi, Ensemble of the Golden Bough, who came to the event by virtue of Wigmore Hall – Janie and I are normally avid Wigmore-Hall-istas but have not been to a concert there since just before lockdown:

Belibers & Telemaniacs & All Sorts, Concentus Musicus Wien, Wigmore Hall, 6 February 2020

The Ensemble of the Golden Bough mostly played classic seasonal fare to create a suitable atmosphere. The quintet comprises Christopher Barrett, Ryan Linham, Sam Kinrade, Phillippa Slack and Rory Cartmell, each of whom is an exceptional exponent of their instrument(s). The following vid is not the seasonal type of music they played on the evening, but it is lovely and will give you an idea of the virtuosity involved:

It was almost enough to convert me to brass-only arrangements of music, which is not usually my bag. It certainly worked for that setting and the playing was truly top notch…

…as was the whole event and the company. A very enjoyable evening indeed.

Not only that, but Antonia from Baker Street Quarter Partnership informs us that we’ll smile even more when we see the four-figure sum raised for FoodCycle.

Back To Life, Back To Reality… Almost, November 2021

Thanks to Giles Stogdon for the above photo.

At the beginning of November, life seemed to be almost getting back to normal. Lots of real tennis in convivial circumstances for a start,

Thursday 4 November 2021 – MCC Real Tennis Skills Night

For my sins, I have inherited, from John (“Johnny”) Whiting, the role of “match manager” for the popular skills nights at Lord’s. A few years ago, on hearing John and the professionals discussing the amount of organising the event needs on the night, I made the schoolboy error of offering to help next time. John saw the offer of help as an opportunity to step down; frankly, Johnny had done it for so many years, who can blame him?

Fortunately for me, Johnny had left comprehensive instructions and spreadsheets rendering the event almost fool-proof, as long as there are a couple of pros who know what they are doing to make the event run smoothly on the court, which, of course, it did.

My review of the event can be found on the MCC website through this link.

Alternatively, if anything ever goes awry with the MCC site link, a scrape of the report can be found here.

Naturally, skills night is as much an exercise in conviviality as it is an exercise in tennis court skills.

However, the assembled throng did have to listen to me waffling on about prizes and the like:

Thanks again to Giles Stogdon for this photo

A Week Of Tennis & Dining Out 6 to 12 November 2021

Quite a week. Janie and I went to Simon Jacobs place for dinner on 6th, where he cooked a delicious soup followed by chicken & mushroom pie. Lots of chat about music and that sort of thing. No photos on this occasion but there are photos from our previous visit, before lockdown 2.0:

A Prescient Visit To Simon Jacobs’s Place, 10 October 2020

I played a fair bit of tennis that week, not least a ridiculous 24 hours during which I played an hour of real tennis singles on the Tuesday evening, two hours of modern tennis on the Wednesday morning (part singles, part doubles), then a match, representing MCC against Middlesex University on the Wednesday, which ended up being another two-and-a-half hours of doubles. No wonder I served a couple of double-faults at the end of my second rubber on the Wednesday evening. Again, no photos from the match this time, but here’s a report with pictures and videos from the most recent equivalent home fixture – a couple of years ago:

A Real Nailbiter Of A Finish, MCC v MURTC, Lord’s, 13 November 2019

On Thursday 11th, I went to the office for the first time (other than for a team meeting) in more than 18 months. Then I met up with Johnboy – initially in “Ye [sic] Old Mitre” (it really should read “þe Old Mitre”, you know) and then on to Chettinad Restaurant (my choice), as I thought a high-quality Indian meal would be a good way for us to “get back on the bike” of dining out. The food was very good.

It had been a really long while since John and I had met up for a simple restaurant meal – our last few gatherings had either been at homes, the four of us or the four of us at homes. This Yauatcha meal might have been the previous one:

An Evening With John White, Including Dinner At Yauatcha, 5 June 2019

Then on the Friday I was evicted from this year’s MCC singles tournament for feeble-handicappers in the Round of 16. I don’t think I’ll try tournament singles again. I love playing singles more than doubles on a friendly basis but doubles makes more sense at my level for matches and tournaments.

Tennis At All Sorts Of Levels, Performances Of Various Kinds & A Bit Of A Boost, 15 to 29 November 2021

On 15 November I spent a very jolly afternoon at The Queen’s Club watching real tennis played by real players; The British Open 2021.

I saw Neil Mackenzie take on Matthieu Sarlangue, then Zac Eadle challenge Nick Howell, then finally (and most excitingly, a five setter) Edmund Kay against Darren Long. Here is a link to the draw/results on the T&RA website. If by any chance that link doesn’t work, I have scraped the file to here.

I spent much of the afternoon & evening with my friend/adversary Graham Findlay with whom, by chance, I was due to battle with myself that very Thursday. I was thus able to reciprocate the coffee and cake Graham kindly treated me to at Queen’s with a light bite in The Lord’s Tavern after our battle on the Thursday, before I went home to perform my latest ThreadMash piece – click here or below.

Let Them Eat Cake & The Tennis Court Oath, ThreadZoomMash Performance Piece, 18 November 2021

Janie and I had an afternoon of adventure on the Friday, having our Covid vaccinations boosted (we don’t get out much these days – all such matters need noting).

Picture actually from first vax

Most people reported a sore arm and aches. We both got the aches but strangely my arm did not feel at all sore at the vaccination site and I was able to play lawners lefty-righty all weekend.

A quieter week followed. I continued to play some doubles in partnership with Andrew Hinds, in preparation for our R16 match – this we did Tuesday 16th and Monday 22 November.

Janie and I were due to see Lydia White…

Hitting The High Notes With Lydia White, 5 May 2020

… star in Little Women at The Park Theatre on the Thursday, but sadly our performance needed to be cancelled due to cast illness (not Lydia) that day, so we’ll miss the run now.

On Monday 29th, Andrew Hinds (depicted wooden-spoon-wielding, left, in the photo below) and I won a place in the quarter finals of the feeble-handicappers’ doubles tournament.

With thanks to Tony Friend for this photo From skills night

Due to competitor/court availability (or lack thereof) before the seasonal break, that means that we shall still be in the 2021/22 tournament into the New Year – the equivalent of getting to week two of a grand slam lawn tennis tournament – but in a very slightly less-elevated way.

Let Them Eat Cake & The Tennis Court Oath, ThreadZoomMash Performance Piece, 18 November 2021

A few weeks ago, I played an especially close and exciting real tennis tournament match at Lord’s, emerging victorious – in straight sets but by the narrowest of margins in each set.

Exhausted but happy, I stopped at Porchester Waitrose on my way home, to pick up bread and other comestibles for my supper.

But I discovered the in-house bakery covered in tarpaulin, with signs reading, “No Entry” and “Due to a leak in our ceiling we have had to close down this area…”

Opposite the bakery were mostly bare shelves, where normally the bread would be. But one shelf was fully stocked, bulging with packs of brioche loaves and brioche rolls.

“Qu’ils mangent de la brioche”, I said to myself. In the circumstances; who wouldn’t?

The English expression. “let them eat cake” is, in fact, a loose translation of the phrase, “qu’ils mangent de la brioche”.

I don’t like the loose, English translation. Brioche is, in my opinion, a rich form of bread. Classified as viennoiserie, brioche is almost pastry, but not a piece of cake.

Bread, pastry, biscuit, cake; these distinctions might seem trivial or inconsequential. Yet, in the early 1990s case of McVities v HMRC,  the very VAT status of Jaffa Cakes hinged on whether that particular delicacy should be defined as a cake (zero-rated) or a chocolate-covered biscuit (standard rated). The tribunal ruled that the product had nine characteristics, some cake, some biscuit, but on balance determined it to be a cake.

Two hundred years earlier, Marie Antoinette’s place in history was determined, formally, at the hands of the French Revolutionary Tribunal. Unfortunately for Marie Antoinette, her informal reputation is entwined with the phrase “let them eat cake” or “qu’ils mangent de la brioche”, despite the fact that there is no evidence that she ever used the phrase and a great deal of evidence that she couldn’t possibly have originated it.

Marie Antoinette – say what?

Jean-Jacques Rousseau coined the phrase in his Confessions, attributing the anecdote to an unnamed “great princess”.  Rousseau wrote Confessions between 1765 and 1769, when Marie Antoinette was still a nipper and before she had ever been to France.

Rousseau might even have made up the anecdote. Another possibility is that the anecdote originated with Marie Theresa of Spain, about 100 years earlier.

Marie Theresa being “handed over” to Louis XIV

Marie Theresa was consort to Louis XIV, The Sun King, during an extremely lavish era – when Versailles was transformed from a hunting lodge into the opulent palace we now associate with Versailles.

Marie Theresa died in 1683, before the Versailles tennis court was completed, but her son, Louis, The Grand Dauphin, played an inaugural game on that court in 1686. 

Louis The Grand Dauphin

Roll the clock forward a hundred years again, to 1789. The Versailles tennis court played a crucial role in the French Revolution. In June 1789, the Third Estate or National Assembly of commoners, found themselves locked out of the chamber by order of the King.

Dr Joseph-Ignace Guillotin

Joseph-Ignace Guillotin, suggested that they congregate instead in the nearby Royal Tennis Court of Versailles, where they swore a collective oath, similar in style to the US Declaration of Independence, “not to separate, and to reassemble wherever circumstances require, until the constitution of the kingdom is established”. 576 of the 577 members of the assembly took the oath.

The Tennis Court Oath was a seminal moment in the progress of the French Revolution. Ironically, though, the tennis court oath neither benefitted the reputation of tennis nor that of Joseph-Ignace Guillotin.

Jeu de paume, as the French call real tennis, virtually died out in France in the aftermath of the French revolution.  In tennis’s 17th and 18th century heyday, there were hundreds of courts in Paris alone. 

Joseph-Ignace Guillotin was a doctor who opposed capital punishment. He advocated the use of a quick, painless blade mechanism, but only in preference to the more torturous methods of execution commonly used.  It was much to the doctor’s chagrin that the deadly mechanism acquired his name. There is an urban myth that Dr Guillotin was himself thus decapitated during the reign of terror. It is true that A Dr Guillotin met that fate, but not Dr Joseph-Ignance Guillotin, who was imprisoned, but survived the reign of terror by the skin of his teeth.

I mused on all these matters that evening, a few weeks ago, while munching my brioche and reflecting on winning a tennis match by the skin of my teeth.

The oath I had heard on the tennis court that evening was the single expletive, “shit”, used by my opponent so many times, he got a warning from the marker (umpire).  I wondered how many of the 576 subscribers to the original Tennis Court Oath were reduced to such lesser, expletive oaths, soon after their revolutionary gesture.

Changing the social order, like brioche, is not a piece a cake.

Pas un morceau de brioche

Rice by Michele Lee, Orange Tree Theatre, 30 October 2021

Philip Halling / The Orange Tree Theatre, Richmond

Rice at The Orange Tree Theatre was our first visit to the theatre to see a drama for more than 18 months. There’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then.

The last thing we saw, just before the first lockdown, was Not Quite Jerusalem at the Finborough:

Not Quite Jerusalem by Paul Kember, Finborough Theatre, 13 March 2020

The Orange Tree assured us in its marketing that the theatre is “See It Safely” approved, which no doubt it was. The problem with that level of biosecurity in a small theatre like The Orange Tree is that the safety removes much of the warmth, atmosphere and absence of fourth wall that theatre in the round is meant to provide.

It didn’t help that the weather has turned a bit colder on us – well it is autumn – to the extent that even extra layers of clothing and cushions neither made us feel warm nor comfortable while sitting for 90 minutes plus.

The play was not designed to make us feel comfortable of course – it grapples with relationships, inter-generational conflict, cultural conflicts and international commerce – in the hands of two performers, primarily as a two-hander play but each performer also covers several additional, smaller roles.

As we would expect at The Orange Tree, one of our favourite places, the quality of the acting, directing and production was very high. We have been impressed by Matthew Xia’s work as a director before, both at the Orange Tree and elsewhere.

But this complex piece/production did not really warm the cockles of our hearts, to encourage us to rush back to fringe theatre the way we visited regularly and avidly prior to the pandemic. We’ve booked one or two things for this autumn/winter – we might book one or two more .

We’ll keep our (many) memberships going of course – we are still great supporters but we’re just not in a rush to attend very often – not yet anyway.

Mixed reviews but mostly good ones – accessible through this link.

A Day At Hampton Court Palace Representing The Dedanists v The Hamsters, 21 October 2021

A real treat of a day out for real tennis – such a long time since I have been able to do one of these.

Selected to represent The Dedanists against The Hamsters (a select subset of the Royal Tennis Court membership), I again, as last time, enjoyed the company of Carl Snitcher on the journey from Central London to Hampton Court Palace.

Carl with ball in hand

Here and below is my write up of the fixture from two years ago:

How I Lost My Virginity Three Times In Less Than A Week, Yet Didn’t Lose A Match, 10, 14 & 15 October 2019

Again, this time, James McDermott was my partner, but, on this occasion, we were down to play the first rubber rather than the last of the match. That left me available for much of the day to do some match marking – I actually marked two of the other rubbers in the 2021 match.

In between those playing and marking activities, there was plenty of time for convivial chat and eating a wonderful lunch.

I wrote up the match for The Dedanists’ Society website, so no need to repeat those details here.

This scrape of the blog page shows our match as the second one down – the above link is live so the report will forever move down the page as more reports are added to that one!

Of course the pandemic isn’t over, but this sort of day marks a further return to something closer to normalcy. It was a splendid day and I thoroughly enjoyed the match and the company.

One of my better shots

The Last Five Years by Jason Robert Brown, Garrick Theatre, Followed By Drinks With The White Crew, 14 October 2021

It’s Showtime!

I have an idea for a musical. It is called The Last Five Decades. The musical opens at the end of the story.

Writer, Ivan Hershey, optimistically sings, “Technically Speaking, You Are Not Really A Shiksa, Goddess”, while actress, Leylah Wasp, laments, “Still Kvetching”.

The story goes back in time more than forty years, until a finale, in which we see Leylah’s dad, Jim, in his youth, mournfully singing “Stereotype” at a meeting for budding college journalists. Jim imagines that he looks like Terry Hall from The Specials, but actually, as he is sporting a Spurs scarf and Doc Martens, Jim inadvertently projects the look of a right wing yob. Unaware that five decades of friendship are about to be launched, young Ivan tries to disconcert Jim by cheerfully belting out “Children Of The Wind” from Rags, evoking the intrepid spirit of refugee diaspora people everywhere.

But what do I know of musicals? Apart from the occasional foray into writing silly lyrics for spoof musicals, which doesn’t count…

Casablanca The Musical by Magnolia Thunderpussy, Actor’s Workshop, 18 September 2001

…I have only (now) seen three live professional performances of musicals…

…and Lydia White has been in two of them. I went to Manchester to see Rags in 2019:

Rags The Musical, Hope Mill Theatre, 13 March 2019

In many ways, going to the Garrick Theatre to see The Last Five Years felt a bit like going to a familiar but occasionally-visited city like Manchester. Although London is of course my home City and under normal circumstances Janie & I see stuff regularly, this was our first trip “up west” for more than 18 months. It was the first time I’d been on the Tube for more than 18 months.

Queues and sanitiser…

We did as we were told and got there early

Lockdown of course changed all our lives in a great many ways. One of those ways, for me, was that I started to take singing lessons from Lydia. My early music teacher, Ian Pittaway, says that her work with me has been utterly transformational and he means that in a good way. He even forgave her for blowing out my singing lesson last week, in order to fit in an additional rehearsal for The Last Five Years. Ian says I don’t need a note, Lydia.

The Garrick folk handed us this note

Was Lydia good in this show? Of course she was. Superb. She has tremendous stage presence to add to her technical abilities acting and singing.

Her opposite number for the afternoon, Lenny Turner, a debutante in this production, was excellent too.

In truth, Janie and I are really not musicals people, so the show itself is not to our taste. But we can appreciate a solidly professional and excellent production when we see one, which this most certainly was.

Janie and I found ourselves sitting quite close to “Lydia’s contingent”, with John, Mandy & Bella a couple of rows behind us; Mandy’s sister Mary & her husband Alan immediately behind us. Their daughters next to us…

…I probably hadn’t seen Mary & Alan since John & Mandy’s wedding more than 30 years ago. Nevertheless, Mary apparently spotted me immediately on arrival in the auditorium and told Alan that she had spotted me. So now I know; lying low for 30 years and wearing an FFP2 mask is insufficient disguise if I want to hide from Mandy’s kin.

After the show, we all gathered outside the theatre beside the stage door. As well as the above crowd, Angela (from those good old days) was there, as were a great many other people we were meeting for the first time; one of Mandy’s friends from Saffron Walden, Lydia’s boyfriend Jack, his family, plus many of Lydia’s friends and colleagues.

Janie had a long-standing engagement with her Samaritans cohort that evening, so had pre-warned us that she wouldn’t be able to stay for drinks; she left us about half an hour after the show, at which point we were still waiting for Lydia to emerge through the stage door. I wonder whether we looked like a bunch of groupies? Who cares.

Soon enough, Lydia did emerge to enjoy a further rapturous greeting and we soon set off for Koha in St Martins Court.

The fortunes smiled on us. The weather was mild and dry. Koha seemed able to provide us with as much seating outside as we needed to imbibe and chat at length. A couple of hours simply flew by, before we all went our separate ways.

But the main purpose of the day had been to support Lydia’s performance in the Last Five Years. It really was a delight to see her performing so well and so thrilled at the end of the day with how well it had all gone.

Borrowed from Lydia’s Twitter account.

All Mixed Up: Age Is Just A Number, ThreadZoomMash Piece, Performed 30 September 2021

My Grandma Anne died 40 years ago, just shy of 90. If you went to central casting to get a balabusta/babushka for the role of family matriarch…

…with her shock of jet black hair, presumably from a bottle for most of her life, plus her heavily-Russian-accented voice…

…Grandma Anne Harris would have fitted the bill perfectly.

Grandma’s outstanding involuntary comedy moment was in 1972, when she solemnly announced, as we drove on a family outing, away from Streatham, along Bedford Hill, that I shouldn’t play on the common any more, as bad things happen to people who go there. Someone had cursed the place. It took us a while to work out that she had heard a radio programme, not about Tooting Common, but about Tutankhamun, which was all the rage in London that year.

By 1981, Grandma Anne was in and out of hospital all too regularly. Her age had never previously been a topic of discussion. But my mum was concerned that every time Grandma was taken into hospital, the age she stated on admission was going down. 87…86…82…

…on what turned out to be her last admission to hospital, mum went ballistic when she first looked at Grandma’s notes.

“Look at this”, hissed mum to me, “72-dash-80-plus-question-mark. I’m going to get this put right straight away”. Mum was a numbers person and as far as she was concerned you don’t mess with numbers.

Don’t mess with numbers

A senior nurse assured mum that the hospital team was fully aware that Grandma Anne was in her late 80s, pushing 90, and that she was receiving appropriate care…

…which might well have been true, but sadly, Grandma Anne died in that hospital bed.

————————————————————–

Roll the clock forward 30 years. My mother was just shy of 90. Unfortunately mum’s grasp on numbers and much else was all mixed up by then.  The onset of dementia, which had been gradual for some time, kicked in and kicked on in a rush. Three months before her 90th, my mum went into Nightingale; the care home at which she had volunteered for many decades.

Janie and I made a big fuss for mum’s 90th birthday, inviting mum and the family over for an afternoon party at our house.

Mum, Angela, Janie and Me

Mum liked being the centre of attention and over the ensuing weeks talked a great deal about her big birthday event with her friends at Nightingale.

But mum became convinced that the birthday had been her hundredth, not her ninetieth.

On one occasion when mum was talking to me about her 100th party, I challenged her.

“You are 90, mum, not 100”.

“I’m 100. And I’m your mother. Don’t argue with your mother.”

On another occasion, after I’d taken mum back to her room, I was accosted by a brace of her friends.

“Your mum is driving us all mad. She keeps telling everyone that she is 100. There are quite a few people around here who really are 100. It’s not right. She’s just turned 90, hasn’t she?”

“What do you want me to do about it?” I asked.

“Tell her”.

“I’ve told her…and she’s told me not to argue with my mother”.

“It’s wrong. Sort it out.” The Nightingale Mafia had spoken.

Mum in her role as Nightingale poster child

I discussed the problem with one of the senior care nurses, who patiently explained to me that people with dementia have their own subjective reality which might differ from our own reality and from objective reality. It’s better to join the loved one in their subjective realities rather than challenge them with our own realities.

This seemed a compelling and compassionate argument…

…until I thought about it a bit more and said…

…“I can roll with that…sort of…but what about mum’s friends’ realities. They want me to stop mum driving them potty with her nonsense about being 100. How do I deal kindly with those conflicting realities?”

After a momentary pause, the nurse said, “welcome to our world”, with just a modicum of compassion.

————————————–

Having reflected for the first time on these experiences jointly, my thoughts, like the age claims of both ancestors, are all mixed up.

The family legend about Grandma Anne was that her declining age claims were born of vanity and an unwillingness to accept her antiquity.

But possibly dementia had started to take its toll on Grandma at that age. In her own, disoriented way, grandma was subtracting 18 from her age; while mum added 10 in her confusion.

Should we have accepted Grandma Anne’s subjective reality that she was 72? Might that last hospital stay have gone better had everyone treated her as if she were a 72 year old, rather than a 90 year old? It couldn’t have gone much worse; Grandma Anne came out of hospital that time in a box.

Postscript: About The ThreadMash Evening

Just in case you don’t know what a ThreadMash is, yet want to know, this link (here and below) will explain it to you and link you to some other examples.

Threadmash 5, Rohan Candappa’s Thing Has A Birthday Bash, Gladstone Arms, 5 February 2020

Since the one explained/depicted above, ThreadMash has been ThreadZoomMash; a virtual story writing and telling club.

We had seven stories and one apology (from Terry), the latter being so detailed and heartfelt, Kay read the apology at the start of the evening. It was, in its own way, a ThreadMash story.

Jill’s story was really a piece of philosophical musing about technology, moral dilemmas, decision making with and without machines, governance, government…it was truly mind-blowing. I do hope Jill will allow us to publish her piece more widely soon. If/when she does, I’ll add a link here.

Then my story, echoing the moral dilemmas but not the technology.

Rohan’s piece also seemed to echo at least one of my themes; his distinct yet overlapping stories possibly being multiple realities about the same staircase.

After a short break, Ian T’s moving piece about an ill-fated meal of spaghetti bolognaise with his dad and (yet another strange echo) a central theme of parental dementia.

It really is quite extraordinary how such a simple, three word title, “All Mixed Up” with no further guidance from Kay, led to so many overlapping themes. This does tend to happen at ThreadMash and I find that aspect of the overlap fascinating.

Geraldine read us some fragmentary musings, which are on their way to being a set of elegiac meditations on her experiences during the pandemic.

Kay instead reminisced about her time in New York in the late 1980s. Part confessional…

Dorothy Parker
“Oh, gallant was the first love, and glittering and fine;
The second love was water, in a clear white cup;
The third love was his, and the fourth was mine;
And after that, I always get them all mixed up.” Dorothy Parker

…we learnt that it was Kay who has denied us UK citizens the Marathon Bar, helping rebrand that Mars product as Snickers. Kay is also to blame for M&Ms in the UK, apparently – I shall find forgiveness for Kay in my heart eventually – but not yet…

…partly an ode to Dorothy Parker and partly Kay’s own poetic efforts from that time.

Last but not least was David Wellbrook’s sprawling sequel to his previous post-modern story about a chancer named Myrtle (or is she named Candice?) about whom David is writing rather sordid stories…or is she writing David instead? We met some new characters this time, including Lady Kumquat, the infeasibly young wife of an elderly Knight of the Realm. We were also introduced to an infeasibly hilly part of Norfolk named Bishop’s Knuckle.

There was plenty of time for discussion of our various pieces and general chat too.

As always it was a superb evening. Whether virtual or face-to-face I always get a boost from these ThreadMash events.

And finally…

…just in case the trusty WordPress engine fails to connect my “forty years on” diary piece about Grandma Anne’s last few days and the aftermath of her demise, here and below is a link to that piece.

Twenty Days Of Summer Holiday Work During Which Grandma Anne Died, 10 to 29 August 1981

The Last Of Summer, A Smidgen Of Warwickshire v Lancashire At Lord’s, 28 & 30 September 2021

I had hoped to keep a fair bit of time free to enjoy some cricket at Lord’s in this very last week of the English season. A new idea for a new County Championship format, to have a trophy final at Lord’s between the top two teams. Up to five days if necessary. Love the idea. Not so sure about scheduling into October, but heck, sometimes the weather is still sufficiently good for hardy cricket lovers to dare watch.

I discussed the prospective fixture with Frank Dillon when he visited on the preceding Saturday…

Conviviality & Charity, Mostly In Real Life, 20 to 25 September 2021

…Frank had been at Liverpool for the last match of Lancashire’s main campaign. He suggested that I look out for a promising youngster named George Balderson, who opens the batting and bowls.

On Tuesday 28th, the first day, I was hopeful to see a bit of George bat either before or after my 11:00 tennis match, as Lancashire had been inserted and I arrived at Lord’s at 10:40…

…by which time Lancashire was already 9/2 and George was gone.

I peeked briefly through the Allen Stand gap and then played a tough and losing game of tennis against a newbie…except that, as a former rackets champion, he could already hit the ball much, much better than me.

By the time I emerged from the tennis, play had just resumed after a rain-affected lunch break and Lancashire were 57/8. As I stood at the top of the steps to the Warner, watching politely while awaiting the end of the over, it became 57/9.

Brutality

The sole other arriviste at that entrance said, “it’s just brutal” in a distinct Merseyside accent. I thought he might be about to burst into tears.

“I’m sorry”, I said.

“It’s not your fault”, he said.

I mentally juggled headlines along the lines of “Only Wood Could Wield Much Wood” before deciding that I’m not much cut out for sports headline writing.

I watched the first two or three overs of the Warwickshire innings before heading home to get some work done ahead of a very enjoyable Zoom with Simon Jacobs & Jon Gorvett.

Wednesday being Janie’s and my FoodCycle day, I needed to get work done and couldn’t find time to show up at Lord’s at all, despite the fact that Rossmore Road FoodCycle is a short walk from Lord’s.

Thursday afternoon I was due back at Lord’s for tennis and managed to get there a good few minutes early. It felt like a bit of a race against time, as I spotted at lunchtime that Frank’s man, George Balderson, was still batting.

Would I get to Lord’s in time to see George bat and if so would I get there in time to see him reach 50?

Easy Peasy, Lemon Squeazy

I briefly took up a seat at the front of the new Lower Compton…

Not much more than a defensive push for four

And got a shot of George Balderson’s shot to get to 50. I sent the above image to Frank from my position in the Lower Compton: “Just snapped yer dude Balderson getting to 50”.

Then, aware of the time and feeling a bit chilly too, I went round to the tennis court, where Dominic inflicted the sort of drubbing on me that Warwickshire were inflicting on Lancashire.

Here is a link to the scorecard and Cricinfo resources on that match.

After my match, I picked up Frank’s reply:

That really is the last of summer.

It sure was.

Conviviality & Charity, Mostly In Real Life, 20 to 25 September 2021

UK society seems to be opening up, tentatively. Even the manically-busy Noddyland spider appears to be back in action at full pelt, having gone strangely dormant on us through the pandemic. Hence the evening and weekend slots seem to be filling up again.

20 September 2021

Monday evening, we had a very enjoyable, convivial dinner at Dominic and Pamela’s place. We hadn’t spent time with the pair of them since the Ireland test match a couple of years ago.

The Week That Ireland Came To Lord’s, 23 to 26 July 2019

Another couple, Sally & Barry, were there; bridge friends. Most of the conversation was about other matters; crime and punishment came into it a fair bit as both Pamela and Barry were criminal barristers in their time.

Dominic prepared a superb meal of tricolore salad, duck ragu with pappardelle…

Ivan Vighetto, CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

…and a very tempting tart for afters.

It was a very enjoyable evening.

21 September 2021

Tuesday evening was the only virtual event of the week. The City Giving Day Quiz Night. Why anyone picks me for quiz teams is a bit of a mystery; I’m not good at retaining “quiz-type facts” and tend to sound uncertain about stuff I know about, while convincing about my wildest guesses. I also lose concentration easily during quizzes.

Photo-bombing my own screen shot – top row, centre

Anyway, it was for charity and the round depicted, the music round, was a perfect 10 for the Z/Yen team, which we had named FS Club 7; an ideal name for a six-person team, we felt.

In the end we were only three points off the top slot, so we felt good about ourselves without virtually-returning victorious.

It was about as much fun as on-line quizzing can be. This event is actually a convivial thing, when face-to-face, so here’s hoping that next year it will be in-person.

22 September 2021

A very exciting occasion as FoodCycle Marylebone opened its doors again, 18 months on, to welcome people for communal meals. Janie and I have been involved for most of the 18 months in-between, delivering food for most of the lockdown period and latterly helping with a cook & collect takeaway service these past few months.

FoodCycle’s Spiritual Home In Rossmore Road & Other Tales, 24 June 2020

The switch to community dining within Covid protocols must be challenging at all FoodCycle projects. At Marylebone, where uniquely we need to operate out of two sites, some of those challenges come to the fore. Yet somehow the cooking team always manage to conjure up superb meals…

With thanks to Rachelle for the photo

…while returnees from the communal dining hosting team helped us to get through the evening without a glitch; there was much joy among the several dozen guests and the hosts alike. Let’s simply say that I was hosting “leader” only nominally that night. But I did fill in the forms, which apparently I do comparatively well, despite my allergy to form-filling.

Thanks to Bill for this photo

Before the meal, Reverend Clare conducted a short, moving service of remembrance for those regulars who are no longer able to join in with the communal meals. Janie and I had got to know several of the people who have died or become incapacitated since the start of lockdown.

Reverend Donna took on the role of DJ during the meal, playing an assortment of gentle classics. But at one point I detected the unmistakable sensation of live music in the hall. One of the guests, a Russian gentleman, who had only recently started attending for takeaways, was playing the piano…

…masterfully…

…with exceptional virtuosity, in a St Petersburg style, if you know what I mean.

“Did you know he could play?” I asked the reverends. Both demurred. He simply asked if he could have a go and they thought, “why not?”

Not quite Sokolov (both the gentleman and the piano are a few sizes down from the grand depiction below) but that YouTube link might give you the gist and in any case is a charming listen:

There was tumultuous applause at the end of our guest’s set. I for one found the whole experience delightful and moving; it was the first time I had heard live music of performance quality since before lockdown. I do hope that gentleman plays for us again.

The whole evening was a great success. We’ve learnt a lot and hopefully we can do even better next week.

25 September 2021

Earlier in the week, out of the blue, I received a message from Frank Dillon saying that he would be in London this weekend and at a bit of a loose end on Saturday.

I hadn’t seen Frank since we went to Southport four years ago:

Southport Day Three: County Cricket En Famille Plus A Blast From My Keele Past, 11 June 2017

As luck would have it, Janie had arranged to have her hair done middle of the day and I too was available.

Thus Frank journeyed from Gray’s Inn to Noddyland for the afternoon, while his kin went to the Chelsea Flower Show.

The weather didn’t smile on us quite as much as I’d have liked, but we were able to take coffee and sit on the terrace for some time.

By the time I started to pull together a luncheon platter, word came from Janie that she was on her way back from the hairdresser’s, so we were all able to graze together, at which point it was only right and proper to try a glass or two of wine.

We didn’t quite finish putting the world to rights, but we had quite a good go at it. In any case, we’ll need something left to remedy for our next regathering, which hopefully will be reasonably soon.

It was a really pleasant way to end a convivial and charitable week.