…to join him for an afternoon watching quality doubles at The British Open, followed by dinner, with Janie and Geraldine joining us for the grub bit.
Richard secured us front row seats in the dedans gallery, where we saw the following quarter-finals:
Rob Fahey & Steve Virgona v Louis Gordon & Rob Shenkman;
Tim Chisholm & Camden Riviere v Vaughan Hamilton & John Woods-Casey.
On arrival, I ran into a great many real tennis friends – many of whom I know from Lord’s. Indeed, Richard and I estimated that, at the start of that afternoon session, there were more MCC members than Queen’s members watching!
Janie made good time getting to Queen’s for dinner, so was able to join us for the last 20-30 minutes of the second match we saw.
Feeling envious that you didn’t see those matches? Or wondering what they looked like? Or wanting to refresh your memory? Here are the highlights reels for those two matches. I recall a great many highlights in fact, so the reels might not have captured them all:
The food at The Queen’s Club is very, very good these days – it has certainly come on a long way, catering-wise, since the 1990’s:
Richard had not yet met Janie before and neither Janie nor I had previously met Geraldine. It was a great pleasure to spend an evening with those two, eating good food and chatting about all sorts.
Janie and I continued to get pleasure from this event for the rest of the weekend. The doubles semi-finals were on the Sunday and once we had decided to have a quick peep at those on the stream, we were hooked. The first of the semi-finals in particular was a humdinger:
Janie and I also felt quite smug about our modern tennis experience that weekend. Although the weather was shocking, we found a gap in the weather each day to have a decent enough game of “lawners” outdoors.
But the prevailing good feeling from the weekend was that most enjoyable late afternoon and evening on the Friday with Richard & Geraldine Prosser.
l to r standing: Peter, Graeme, Giles, Graham, Me, Jonathan, Piers, Chris, Nick, Paul T, Paul B-B, Kelsey, Susan, Noel, Ellen, Steve, Tony. l-r kneeling: Keith, Chris, Sarah. With thanks to Kelsey Dolan for this & other photos from the day
Long in the planning, a delegation of tennis enthusiasts from Newport, Rhode Island ventured across the pond to play real tennis (or, as they call it over there, court tennis) at the several courts in and near London. This day was their Lord’s day.
I was delighted and honoured to be selected for the MCC team, this being only my second opportunity to represent the club at international club level. My first international was actually my first ever match for the MCC, report linked here and below:
Newport Casino is a fascinating-sounding place, steeped in tennis history; home to the International Tennis Hall of Fame and the original location of the tournament now known as the US Open (lawn) as well as a court tennis facility and much else. Sounds like my sort of casino – I like those that aren’t gambling houses.
Perhaps it was the club’s deep links with history, perhaps it was my remembering seeing Rodin’s The Burghers of Calais in several places on my first visit to the USA in the 1980s…
…but I’m not entirely sure why I imagined the visiting delegation in the style of the Burghers of Calais. Anyway, in an attempt to envisage our visitors a bit better before the day, I asked the DeepAI Image Generator for help:
Rodin’s The Burghers Of Calais depicted with tennis rackets in their hands, DeepAI
The picture made me laugh, although it seems that two of Rodin’s six burghers don’t play tennis and that all of them have grown “Eustache beards” since Rodin’s day. Anyway, I can safely state that our friendly and charming guests from Newport did not look like those Calais burghers. Some wags might suggest that the AI depiction suits the burghers of the Marylebone Cricket Club more than those of Newport Casino.
Giles Pemberton, looking suitably burgher-like, receiving a tribute from Tony at the end of match ceremony.Graeme Marks presenting a ceremonial MCC ball to the visitorsHave Nick Davidson’s psychoactives just kicked in or what?
It was simply a pleasurable day. Most of the visitors were keen to see around Lord’s when they weren’t playing and several of us were similarly keen to show the visitors around.
The tennis matches, seven rubbers, were all extremely closely contested.
Steven Bishop & Graeme Marks v Keith Mayer & Paul Tromby
Jonathan Ellis-Miller & Ollie Wise v Steve Devoe & Chris Werner
Piers Vacher & Peter Brunner v Noel Shiland & Ellen Defoe
Ian Harris & Paul Buchanan-Barrow v Sarah Stanley & Kelsey Dolan
Barry Nathan & Nick Davidson v Noel Shiland & Kelsey Dolan
Iain Harvey & Piers Vacher v Chris Werner & Steve Devoe
Giles Pemberton & Graham Findlay v Keith Mayer & Paul Tromby
I don’t think I can remember an event where quite so many sets of tennis went to to deciders at 5-5.
“So what were the precise scores in each of the sets of each of the rubbers and all that”, I hear you readers cry. Well, you know what Colson Whitehead (almost) said:
What happens in Newport Casino stays in Newport Casino…
It really was one of those days when everybody won. I sensed that the visitors very much enjoyed our hospitality and the MCC team similarly thoroughly enjoyed the company of the interesting, friendly delegation from Newport.
Beyond the many interesting conversations about tennis and our respective clubs, I took great pleasure in showing several of the visitors around the ground. Kelsey, who is a softball enthusiast as well as a tennis enthusiast, took a shine to the indoor school and would really like a go at batting. Let’s arrange that for next time!
My most recent go at the indoor school, November 2022, picture by Janie
Almost all of us retreated to The Ivy on St John’s Wood High Street for some dinner. Several of the visitors were, understandably, struggling to reconcile the pronunciation and spelling of the word Marylebone. I consoled them by explaining that we’re probably all getting it wrong when we pronounce St John’s Wood, as it was most likely pronounced “sinjin’s wood” back in the day.
To cap it all, amongst the assortment of fascinating conversations we were all having over dinner, Ellen and I discovered that we have a shared interest in early music, including madrigals. She was not aware that our young professional Alex is not the earliest generation of the Hume family to sing professionally and was intrigued to learn that several of us have played with his dad, Alistair, who was a founding member of The King’s Singers. I recommended the album Madrigal History Tour to her, and/but have found a YouTube of the TV show from whence that album sprung:
There’s Alistair, second from the left
It was that sort of day and that sort of evening. Warm-hearted, interesting people finding things in common and enjoying each other’s company. We left The Ivy in a glow of high spirits…that was possibly the gemütlichkeit, but possibly it was the wine and cocktails.
Rodin’s The Burghers Of Calais depicted drinking cocktails and socialising warmly, Deep AI
John & Mandy suggested that we visit Saffron Walden for the dual purpose of seeing The Sixteen perform at Saffron Hall and to allow John to cook for us in his newly-extended kitchen…
…a kitchen so comprehensively extended that their home now appears to be a kitchen with some other rooms extended onto the kitchen, rather than a house with a kitchen extension:
Mandy & Me, with John (cooking) just visible in the distance
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
15th Going On 16th Century Cottage
Janie and I decided to make this a “proper short break”, arranging three nights in a properly old cottage, Drake’s Cottage, in the medieval part of town. The headline photo shows a picture of the outside of the cottage, inside the cottage. It dates back to 1461, making it even older than the 1480’s place we stayed in at Stratford a few weeks ago…
…although in truth most of what remains appears to be a major rebuild from the 1530’s, around the time the bigger houses in the Myddlyton part of town were built. In any case, it is seriously wonky compared with proper mock Tudor such as our 1930’s Noddyland abode:
Proper mock Tudor with proper straight lines
We arrived later than intended on the Thursday afternoon. I was keen to get to the cottage before dark, as I am now really averse to driving on country roads when it is dark or even dusky. We didn’t quite make it, although you could argue that it was still dusky…just “well dusky” when we arrived rather than “proper dark”.
As we were self-catering, I was keen to do a bit of rudimentary cooking for a change, so knocked up a prawn and pea pappardelle dish with a large salad.
We took our time before venturing out on the Friday, but did some strolling at our own pace and went to find the market square with a view to returning there the next day to see the market.
Ah, there it isSelfie showing our smug “we can find a market square” faces
I offered to host John & Mandy for drinks and grub at our humble cottage before and after the concert at Saffron Hall, an offer which was gratefully accepted. A mixture of wild and posh farmed smoked salmon on mini bagels with a Pouilly-Vinzelles pre show.
Sixteen Going On 17th Century: Monteverdi, Vespers of 1610, The Sixteen, Saffron Hall, 8 November 2024
Part of this gargantuan piece, the Ave Maris Stella and the Magnificat, was probably the first Monteverdi music I ever heard, as it came as part of a collection of music records/subscription booklets that Uncle Michael gave me when I was a small child:
I still have that record and booklet. You can hear that version of the Magnificat digitised here:
Magnificat
I have a feeling that my dad wasn’t overjoyed by my affinity with early 17th century sacred music, hence him seeking out and getting me into Monteverdi madrigals instead:
Mandy must have been very keen to hear The Sixteen that evening, because she looked super-excited when the lights went down, I shut up and Harry Christophers strode onto the stage.
Back at our cottage, I had prepared a supper of charcuterie and cheeses, with a rather jolly bottle of Chocolate Block.
Our luxury medieval cottage
A super evening.
Saffron Walden Market, Bridge End Gardens & Dinner At John & Mandy’s Place, 9 November
Mandy & John supplemented advice we had already received about what to do on a Saturday in Saffron Walden, before heading to their place for John’s cheffy dinner.
I’ll tell the story mostly in pictures, as I have written more than enough words already:
The condiment lady sold us two types of balsamic vinegarSt Mary the Virgin, the tallest spire and largest organ in all Essex apparentlyParish buildingsStrolling the old town
Then into the Bridge End Gardens…
We were getting quite cold, so we didn’t attempt the maze in Bridge End Gardens.
Probably just as well – as a few hours later – we even managed to get lost in the relatively simple maze of streets between our cottage and the John & Mandy residence. Eventually John came out to rescue us in the street.
Look closely and you can see all four of us in this pictureJohn hard at work preparing our amuse-boucheFood Porn Photo One: theamuse-boucheFood Porn Photo Two: sea bass starterFood Porn Photo Three: beef fillet with celeriac & beansFood Porn Photo Four: tiramisu that tasted far better than it looksIAN: Cheese? Are you kidding? JOHN: You’ve no stamina these days, Ian
It was a really enjoyable evening. Indeed it was a really enjoyable and much needed short break for me and Janie.
If you want to see all 70+ photos from this trip, click the Flickr link below and scroll away:
I wonder whether Angus Wilson would have seen the funny side of this?
As it happens I wasn’t working on Monday (the previous day). In fact, Janie and I had just got home from a specialist’s rather gloomy prognosis on my right hip (“got to go”) and were just heading off to play tennis…
…yes I know those two phrases seem incongruous, but if the hip is more or less worn out I might as well wear it out completely before it goes…
…when I picked up an utterly unexpected e-mail from the Royal Court Theatre.
…I found you from your website, as you wrote about Mark Rosenblatt’s Giant.
I’m reaching out from the Royal Court Theatre’s Living Archive, where we’re working on a series of events called Beyond the Library and I’m hoping you might be able to help us with a last-minute facilitation opportunity tomorrow at 5.30pm.
I know this is very out of the blue and very short notice, but we’d be grateful for your consideration…
Included was the script for The Mulberry Bush and a Facilitator Guide.
It was obvious to me that someone had pulled out at the last minute and that the Royal Court was a bit desperate. There was a modest fee to be had, but not at the level that would get me out of bed unless I was interested/intrigued. I was interested/intrigued.
I picked up the phone and explained, truthfully, that my primary emotion was one of imposter syndrome at the thought of helping them with this. Yes, I am a seasoned facilitator, but normally for organisational/strategic topics, not the arts. Yes, I was familiar with Giant. And yes, as it happens, I have read some Angus Wilson in my time – probably more than 40 years ago. But I have never read or seen The Mulberry Bush.
I’m sure you’ll be great at it. Don’t worry about not being an arts facilitator. We’re looking for diversity in our pool of facilitators.
I suppose I offer diversity from your regular drama facilitator, but perhaps not the kind of diversity you are looking for in your stats.
Janie thought I’d get a buzz out of doing it and was prepared to put up with me hijacking the afternoon to prepare the event, so I said yes.
Janie even did some research for me, finding this excellent documentary about Angus Wilson:
I enjoyed reading The Mulberry Bush and then did some digging into how it was received when it was first shown at The Royal Court. Spoiler alert: it was not received well. I was reminded that I have heard of the play simply because it was the very first play that George Devine put on in 1956 when he started up the English Stage Company at the Royal Court. It actually felt like an extraordinary honour to be facilitating the Royal Court’s event on the topic of that seminal production.
Anyway, I got my facilitator notes ready and sent them across on the Monday evening – here they are if you want to read them, and then got on with my other activities for the next 20 hours or so.
Coincidentally, my other activities that Tuesday morning included going through my Autumn 1984 diaries, where I discovered my very first visit to the Royal Court. 8 December 1984, to see The Pope’s Wedding – what a cast! That Living Archive looks like a fabulous project, btw, and I shall no doubt be contributing observations from my 40 years or so of visiting The Royal Court.
When I got to the flat, I was able to locate my copy of Hemlock & After by Angus Wilson, but I didn’t have time to do more than skim it.
Still, I was one step ahead of my victims…I mean, the attendees, and that one step ahead seemed to be enough to get me through on the evening.
It was a pretty lively, bright bunch; a mixture of drama students, young folk new to working in theatre, writers and a few more senior folk who were just interested in having a book club style discussion.
Everyone contributed and I thought the quality of the discussion was very high. But then, what would I know? I’m not really an arts facilitator. The feedback was good, so I think it went well.
Also, I note, that the Beyond The Library series, which had plenty of spaces left for the November & December sessions when I looked on the Tuesday, has now (by Sunday) sold out. I understand that The Royal Court is considering extending the idea into 2025, so watch that space if you are interested in future such events.
It was hard work preparing, at such short notice, a discussion around a play I had never read or seen before. I fed back that 28 days would be a more suitable advanced notice than 28 hours under normal circumstances. But then, as Angus Wilson said in No Laughing Matter:
“Life isn’t just to be found, you have to work for it.”
Me and Ian enthralled by Ashes cricket at Lord’s, 1 July 2023. Sally resting her eyes ever so slightly. Janie took the picture.
With a mixture of sadness and reflection, I learnt that Ian Theodoreson has died, having bravely fought the onset and relentlessness of muscular dystrophy for several years.
Ian has kept a beautifully written and thought-provoking blog, Living In Hope – click here to see the whole blog, since he retired in 2017. His final message, announcing his own departure in his inimitable style and with his undying faith, is embedded below:
My personal memories of Ian, as a client, mentor and friend, date back to the winter of 1988/89, as described in the following Ogblog piece about my very first consultancy assignment:
Just in case you don’t click, it was not Ian who reduced me to tears on that assignment…it was the assignment. And it is hardly a spoiler in these circumstances to let slip that it all came right in the end.
In work terms, I didn’t come across Ian again until the mid 1990s, by which time I had started up The Z/Yen Group and Ian had moved to Barnardo’s. Ian felt motivated to throw Z/Yen’s name into the pot when Barnardo’s was seeking some strategic advice that was up our street and the rest is history, workwise.
As far as I know, Ian never actually commissioned any work from Z/Yen directly. He would throw our name into the pot when “who might we use for this?” discussions were taking place, presumably with a commendation, but certainly not an instruction to select us. This applied at Barnardo’s and latterly The Church of England, where Z/Yen (and I) remain actively engaged to this day.
I didn’t realise in those early days that Ian shared my love for cricket. True, he had given his blessing to the (somewhat crazy) idea that tiny Z/Yen should take on massive Barnardo’s at cricket…
…but Ian neither played in, nor attended those matches. Once we had conjoined The Children’s Society with that cricket tradition, it ran for many years, indeed into the 2010s.
Ian and I first went to the cricket together at Lord’s in 2009, to see a T20 world cup double-header. I have written that day up here.
When I started to sense some burnout in my work, in early 2014, Ian was the person to whom I turned for a chat and some friendly advice. Ian claimed never to understand why I was so grateful to him for his advice at that time. As far as he was concerned, we’d had a coffee together and a quick chat, during which he had said, possibly as a sort-of throw away remark…
…it seems to me that you do still enjoy the various work activities that you do, it’s just that you are doing too much of it…
…which was a “penny-drop” moment for me and started me on my path to a more balanced portfolio of work, writing, charitable activities and sport.
I shall forever be grateful to Ian for his support and friendship.
I have tried to return that kindness since and, in many ways unfortunately, had some opportunities to do so when Ian became indisposed.
When the pandemic struck, Ian mentioned on his blog that he felt short of stories. His indisposition meant that his world was becoming smaller and now everyone else’s world was temporarily smaller, so he felt bereft of stories.
That gave me an idea. I suggested to Rohan Candappa, who organised our informal writing club, Threadmash and was planning to take the idea onto Zoom for the pandemic, that we invite Ian to join the club virtually.
Rohan, being Rohan, of course said yes.
This worked brilliantly well for all concerned, as Ian’s first performance piece attests:
The other thing I was able to do, post pandemic, was arrange a couple of visits to Lord’s for Ian to see some cricket. We had planned to do this in 2020 for Ian’s birthday, as there was to be a test match in June coinciding with that day. But of course that year it was not to be.
Indeed it wasn’t until 2022 that Lord’s opened up again sufficiently for us to put that plan into action and in 2023, for the Ashes, I managed to arrange not only for Ian and Sally but also for Janie to join us.
I therefore nicknamed Ian “Iain Spellright” for whimsical King Cricket pieces, where everyone has a nickname (mine is Ged, Janie’s is Daisy). The following King Cricket piece is actually one of my favourite memories of spending time at Lord’s with Ian. Published in 2020, it actually relates to an exceptionally hot day in 2014 when Ian and I nearly fried, but still had a good time:
The piece seems to have divided the critics/reviewers. The conventional press focuses on valid criticism that some elements of the plot seem unconvincing. It is hard to imagine a hijacker, who, only by dint of a passenger intervention, fails to kill hundreds of people in a plane crash, being allowed to walk free on the grounds of diminished responsibility.
But we saw through that to enjoy the dilemmas and interpersonal drama between the honeymooners whose life was ripped apart by the incident.
Oli Forsyth clearly has talent as a writer and should persevere; I’m sure there should be better yet to come from him.
But our praise is really for the production. Excellent acting, especially Anjana Vasan as the “have a go hero”, but also Phil Dunster and Craig Els. Also hats off to the production team, in particular director Daniel Raggett, who certainly helped get a quart of entertaining drama out of this pint-sized (70 minutes) play. Big ups also to Alex Payne & George Mann (fight and movement directors respectively), who managed to achieve some excellent effects in an unusually tight and three-dimensional performance setting.
Yes, there is violence in this play, but it isn’t gratuitous violence, as it is central to the story and the unfolding plot. Janie, who is even more allergic to stage violence than I am, didn’t spot the essence of the coup de théâtre at the end of the play…possibly just as well, given her reaction when I explained it to her afterwards. ?.
Running only until 9 November 2024. It deserves a longer run or a transfer.
Just occasionally we see jazz at the Wigmore Hall that really excites me and Janie. This was such an occasion; we loved this concert.
Here is an embedded video of a similar gig very recently, which gives a good idea of what this music looks and sounds like live:
Luques Curtis (the bassist in the video) was unable to take part in our concert, but we were very impressed with French bassist Thibaud Soulas who took his place.
The Lopez-Nussa brothers and Thibauld Soulas were very jolly souls, whereas the superb harmonica player, Grégoire Maret, didn’t get the “everyone smile” memo.
This type of music works best live and works brilliantly well at the Wigmore Hall. I am now exploring Harold López-Nussa canon of recorded music too. The album Timba a la Americana is for sure very good. I have so far only dipped into the earlier ones. Something to look forward to.
And I also look forward to seeing this combo again live, if we get the chance. Truly excellent.
I had been democratically pressganged into match managing the annual Hamsters v Dedanists real tennis match at Hampton Court Palace, about which I have Ogblogged plenty in the past, e.g. my first encounter with that court and fixture five years ago:
There will be a match report from the 2024 fixture in the fullness of time, which I shall be sure to link here once that epic has been written, approved by the libel lawyers and published…
What better way would there be to round off a day of real tennis at a formerly moat-protected palace than a visit to The Network Theatre in Waterloo seeing one of my real tennis pals, Ian Falconer, perform in a play named The Moat.
If you need proof that Ian and I can form a formidable real tennis partnership, look no further than the following “lowlights” reel from the MCC tennis weekend earlier this year in which, as a strange reversal of the natural state of things, Ian played second fiddle to me in the absurd matter of leaving the ball to win points.
Absurdity being another helpful link between real tennis and the play, The Moat, which is grounded at an interesting junction between the Theatre of the Absurd and the Theatre of Cruelty.
The Moat is an absurdist comedy set in the not too distant future in which the world is perpetually ablaze. Those who can afford it live amidst the inferno in moated communities. and one couple is trying to put on a dinner party. It would be going great if people would only stop dying and the fire would stop getting closer and closer.
To get the absurdity started before arrival, it is very clear on the Network Theatre website (and Ian Falconer’s entreaties to his cohort of ticket-holders) that the place is not exactly easy to find.
Network Theatre is rumoured to be difficult to find, so check out the map and directions below before your first visit.
We’re not on maps, but you can find Lower Road under Waterloo Station, leading off Waterloo Road, opposite Sainsbury’s.
Lower Road is a service road under Waterloo Station so you will need to ask for Network Theatre at the security gate (bring your e-ticket confirmation for access) and pass the loading bays before you find us on the left.
This video posted on YouTube shows you the way from Waterloo Station concourse.
If you have three minutes or so to watch the above-linked video, it is a masterpiece of suspenseful hand-held cinema, making The Blair Witch Project look like a Sunday afternoon picnic.
In Ian Falconer’s words:
…go down a long, murky tunnel… hopefully you make it and have time for a drink in the theatre bar beforehand…It’s a crumbling theatre space; don’t expect luxury – it’s very fringe!
Actually I got there in good time and my companion for the evening, Chris Swallow, a senior professional from the MCC real tennis court, had got there even earlier than me. It wasn’t quite as crumbly as Ian Falconer had led us to believe…
…let’s be frank, you can pay three figures for a West End show ticket and find yourself in a fairly crumbly place. And in that West End theatre you are unlikely to find such helpful and mostly friendly people as the volunteers who keep the Network Theatre going.
Imagine a world perpetually ablaze…
Returning to the play and production. The play is unsubtly allegorical, as indeed it is clearly intended to be. The party-throwing couple within the moat are supremely confident that their security systems and their moat can protect them from the incendiary dangers beyond, despite the clear and evident danger from the events we witness (or learn about) in their immediate vicinity. [Insert your own favourite social/political allegory here.]
Despite the characters being absurd caricatures of their types, the play works because it has an integral dramatic arc and a narrative line, with one or two sub-plots, that support that arc. After a while, I was able to “go with the flow” of the absurdity and enjoy the play. I only occasionally feel this way about absurdist pieces; on those occasions they tend to be written masterfully by playwrights such as Eugène Ionesco or Václav Havel.
I sense that director David Whitney has worked with writer Márk [sic] A C Brown before, which will surely have helped make the production flow, as this was not a simple piece to put on in a small fringe theatre. I thought the production values were very high given the constraints. I commend all of the crew as well as the cast – see this link for details; all shall have Ogblog tags.
Ian Falconer was excellent as the the lead character, Andre. I’m not just saying that because he is my friend. Of the supporting cast, I (and indeed Chris Swallow also) would single out Orietta Wanjiru Subrizi who played the part of delivery girl Eden with the right blend of contained gusto.
I do worry slightly about Ian becoming typecast in absurdist, allegorical plays about fire-engulfing situations. I note from his CV Fire in the Basement by Pavel Kohout and Huis Clos by Jean-Paul Sartre.
Parenthetically, my own trip to see Huis Clos, in 1989 (35 years ago…gulp), at the Lyric Studio, was in such a hot situation we the audience felt that we were experiencing the play in sense-around:
Mind you, as Ian Falconer’s nephew pointed out over drinks in the Network Theatre Bar afterwards, my regular choice of water bottle, for tennis and theatre alike, might have been designed for the play The Moat:
My thirst extinguishers tend to get dented by cricket balls and hard tennis balls
Mason’s Court, Built c1485, Occupied by me & Janie from c1615 on 13 October 2024
Janie and I both love spending time in Stratford-Upon-Avon and don’t need much of an excuse (usually something interesting at the theatre) to arrange a short visit to the place.
Indeed, our first short break together, just a few weeks after we met, was in Stratford-Upon-Avon – in a B&B of the old-fashioned variety:
Subsequently we tried most of the better hotels in Stratford, until I discovered Airbnb for some of my/our other short breaks and tried that approach in spring this year:
Janie discovered Mason’s Court while e-rummaging on our previous trip and I agreed that I should try and secure that place for our next trip if I was able.
I was able.
You can see from the headline picture that this wonky so-called Tudor design predates the more linear Mock Tudor that followed it:
Noddyland, Built c1930, Occupied by me and Janie c2011
Our hosts had clearly done due diligence on us and wanted to make me to feel at home by putting up a portrait of me in the dining room:
When depicted from the correct angle, it is almost impossible to distinguish between the two images:
But joking apart, we loved staying in Mason’s Court, despite and because of its genuine late-medieval wonkiness and deference to “Shakespeare-pilgrims”, as a large proportion of the house guests no doubt come from that cohort.
On the first evening we had booked to have dinner at The Opposition, as we had tried Lambs for the first time in decades on our previous visit. We like both of those places a lot and were not disappointed by the quality of the food and service at The Opposition, still, after all these years.
Monday 14 October 2024
Despite the promise of good weather for our trip, the weather gods chose to drizzle upon us for almost the entirety of our short visit this time, confounding our planned trip or two to the tennis club. Indeed we left the tennis equipment in Dumbo throughout our stay, as he was blessed with a private parking space and police protection to go with it:
Dumbo is discretely secreted just beyond the police sign
We knew we were seeing a long play on the Monday and had brought grub with us for a light meal of smoked fishes on our return from the play.
During one of the breaks in the rain we made a short trip to the shops (five minutes walk) to get one or two additional provisions, including stocking up on cheap confectionary for the impending Halloween invasion at Noddyland:
Our fishy supper at Mason’s Court was a delight and we both felt we had earned a glass or few of wine after more than two-and-a-half hours of The New Real.
Tuesday 15 October 2024
More drizzle, but heck, we had some lovely provisions in for lunch (including some very tasty bread from MOR.)
We had also made an executive decision to try The Giggling Squid for dinner as a takeaway, given that the restaurant was two or three minutes walk from our place and we had such a lovely environment in which to dine at home.
Further, I had brought Benjy The Baritone Ukulele with me and felt inspired by the Chandos “Shakespeare” portrait in Mason’s Court to lay down a lyric sung to the traditional tune The Mason’s Apron, the lyric being – Oor Hamlet by Adam McNaughton. (The latter link has the original version of McNaughton’s performance and lyrics). My version owes also to Martin Carthy’s version, with the Scots lingo toned down a bit. Here’s mine:
Not my finest performance, but something I felt compelled to get out of my system.
The staff at Giggling Squid were delightful and helped us to choose a very tasty meal. We’d certainly be happy…keen even…to try some more of their Thai food on a future visit.
Wednesday 16 October 2024
Still drizzling in Stratford but the weather forecast told us that London would be different…
…which it was.
So we did finally get a game of tennis during this short break, but back on our regular courts in London. Which is sort-of how the break started, as we played on Sunday morning before setting off for Stratford. So it goes.
We have another short autumn break in a 15th Century cottage in an old market town lined up very soon…watch this space, readers!
We’re big fans of David Edgar’s plays. Indeed, this was our second David Edgar premier in the past few weeks – his plays seem to come along with the regularity of London buses these days (nothing for ages, then two together):
But in truth I cannot rave about The New Real the way I raved about Here In America.
There was a lot to like about The New Real. Terrific cast who all acted superbly well. Excellent production using the traverse stage and screen effects well. But the overall effect of this rather long play was a sense of over-stimulation by the end of it. So many ideas about politics. So many screen and stage effects. And relatively little human drama to illustrate rather than declaim the points David Edgar wanted to make.
Anyway, despite both coming out of the experience with headaches of over-stimulation, we’re both glad that we have seen this play.
