Things had to be pretty bad for us to walk at half time, especially when The Duchess was treating us to some of her freebie tickets for The Questors.
We had a late reservation at an Ealing restaurant named Parade. I suspect that they were grateful to see us much earlier than our promised arrival at 10:45.
Here is a review of that place from the Standard about a year before our visit:
The next day, we set off for Bristol to join the Boswell branch of the family for Scott’s birthday. We stayed at The Swallow Hotel. We were no doubt generously entertained at chez Boswell for the birthday.
I don’t think the Duchess joined us on that occasion; hence the theatre visit and dinner with her grace the night before. Absolute Hell on the Friday evening – redemption for the rest of the weekend.
In bingo parlance, m’lud, “droopy drawers” stands for 44 – all the fours. This concert was playing on the fact that it was utterly focussed on fourth symphonies:
Franz Schubert – Symphony No 4 in C minor “Tragic”
Anton Bruckner – Symphony No 4 in E flat major “Romantic”
The London Symphony Orchestra conducted by Mariss Jansons played the tunes.
Here is a video recording of Orquestra Sinfônica do Estado de São Paulo under Nathalie Stutzmann playing the Schubert.
While here is the London Symphony Orchestra, under Haitink rather than Jansons, playing the Bruckner 4:
It was even the 4th of November, the evening of that concert, so it really was an evening of:
Memorable too, in its creepiness. Yet it somehow Boy Gets Girl doesn’t seem to have hit the radar of the enduring drama canon. The Wikipedia entry at the time of writing this (October 2026) doesn’t even mention the Royal Court production, just the original production in Chicago.
We were treated to a terrific cast for the Royal Court production: Demetri Goritsas and Katrin Cartlidge in the lead roles. Fine support from Nicholas Day, Jason Watkins, Lucy Punch, Karl Johnson, and Lolly Susi – directed by Ian Rickson.
Nicholas de Jongh rated it highly in the Standard:
Stalking is a discomforting and difficult topic – perhaps that fact, more than anything else, explains why this piece has somewhat vanished from view in the quarter-of-a-century since.
In truth, I remember little about this one. An Irish “returning home” drama. I made no notes in the log about it, which suggests it did little for us but didn’t totally displease us either.
Nicholas de Jongh gave it the dreaded Standard blob:
Janie and I were both very taken with this piece; both the conceit of it and the way the cast and director had turned it into an excellent short piece of drama.
Rachel Halliburton in The Standard gave it a very good review and summarises the story well:
I suspect it was the surrealism that seduced us to the Tate Modern that day, but, as usual, once there, we ended up looking at more than one exhibition. On this occasion, I recall that Janie and I delighted in both.
This Laura Cumming review from The Observer is the only full-scale review I can find for the exhibition that, from what I can gather, most critics described as the blockbuster exhibition of 2001:
Frankly, we remember little about this one. A gentle comedy, is the description. We might have been gently getting over the terminal dullness of our preceding evening’s visit to The National to see Luther.
Here’s a clip from The Gazette & Herald from August, when it opened in Scarborough:
We pushed the boat out to see this one. Friday night at the National Theatre – we both had busy Friday schedules well into the afternoon.
Was it worth it, I hear you cry.
So dull, we walked at half time
Seemingly not.
I have a feeling this was the occasion when we bumped into my friends from Lambton Place, Bryan Rostron & Sunny, with their pal Paul Foot. You don’t mess with investigative journalists like Bryan and Paul – we confessed to the fact that we were going to sneak away after the drinks interval.
We wanted to like this play/production. We are partial to John Osborne, although well aware of the fact that his good is very very good, but not all of his drama is of the highest quality. This one felt like a history lesson in a rather dull (to us) aspect of history.
I also felt badly about walking out on Timothy West. He had, after all, sat through hours of dull stuff with me in it on more than one occasion without walking out at half time:
Returning to Luther, it was, of course, a fine cast and a fine production. Rufus Sewell in the title role. Richard Griffiths, Timothy West, and Maxine Peake in supporting roles, Peter Gill directing with a young Josie Rourke assisting.