Janie started to obsess about Yayoi Kusama before we went to Japan, as Janie had heard about Kusama’s new gallery in Tokyo and how impossible it was to get in there. We tried. We failed.
We even discussed Kusama with some art loving Brits, “Mr & Mrs Tinker”, while travelling between Tsumagao and Takyama and tried, without success, to book from a Japanese railway platform this Victoria Miro exhibition for our return to London. It was sold out. Failed again.
Then, a couple of weeks after our return from Japan, Janie learnt through a client that the Victoria Miro Yayoi Kusama exhibition had been extended and that a few of those extra timed slots might still be available. Janie called me excitedly and we managed, at pretty high speed, to find a suitable slot in our diaries, thus grabbing one of those few remaining Victoria Miro slots.
Janie got to the flat well early that afternoon so we decided to stop off at the British Library along the way – Janie had never seen the place. We had a quick look around the Sir John Ritblat rooms – Treasures Of The British Library, taking in some beautiful old books from around the world, plus the Magna Carta.
Then we took some refreshment at the library before heading off for our early evening Yayoi Kusama appointment at Wharf Road.
A pretty strict appointment it is too. While the team at Victoria Miro are pretty relaxed about people wandering around the open exhibition rooms and the garden, the small infinity room exhibit is done on a timed entry with each pair given precisely one minute to walk around the room and look/take pictures.
Actually the whole show is one of those experiences for which the maxim “a picture can tell a thousand words” applies, so I’m going to stop writing and instead show a dozen or so of the pictures we took – the first two being from that infinity room:
Two other aspects of this exhibition really delighted both of us, especially Janie. Firstly, the limited edition book, the purchase of which was effectively the deal through which we got our exhibition tickets. The book has wonderful pictures of all the exhibits – Janie expects to enjoy dipping into that book from her metaphorical coffee table for some time to come.
Secondly, we managed to procure the very last copy Victoria Miro had of the DVD Yayoi Kusama: Infinity– thanks to helpful Ayley at Wharf Road for holding that back for us. As it happens, at the time of writing that DVD is widely available – only a few clicks away. Still, we have our copy in hand and are looking forward to watching it over the seasonal break ahead. It looks like a fascinating documentary about Kusama’s life and work.
In short, we had a very enjoyable experience – we felt fortunate and privileged to have seen this show. We celebrated back at the flat, suitably enough, with a Japanese meal from the new Eat Tokyo place that has just opened up on Notting Hill Gate.
If the above dozen photos isn’t enough for you, you can see all 89 photos we took at the exhibition on the following Flickr album:
A bittersweet occasion, as Janie and I joined an informal conclave to say goodbye to Toni (Antoinette) Friend, who had died a few days earlier and been interred at family funeral.
Toni’s sons, Will, Tom and John, organised a discreet, small gathering at Daphne’s, one of Toni’s favourite places.
John and Will each made a short, moving speech about their mum, but mostly the gathering was, in accordance with Toni’s wishes, a celebration of her life.
It was very tastefully done. We met several people we had met before and a few that we hadn’t met before. Janie took a few pictures, the best of which are below.
Toni would have enjoyed this gathering – it had all the hallmarks of her style – and she would surely have been proud of her boys for the graceful way the event was conducted.
We had a fine lunchtime meal as our Z/Yen seasonal works outing this year, in the Guildhall. The meal is described in detail on the menu above.
I personally went for the tempura of cod followed by goose and cheesecake – all was delicious. I wouldn’t make this point on Now & Z/Yen, but on my own blog I feel able to say that:
Tempura of Atlantic cod with garden pea puree and lemon grass drizzle
…is just a posh way of saying “fried cod & mushy peas”. Very tasty, it was.
Anyway, if you want to jump to the punchline unexplained, click the YouTube link below – especially 2’45” onwards, which illustrates the sort of thing we did, although we did it for ourselves:
Here’s the lyric I wrote to enlighten our proceedings::
EXTZY 2018 VERSION
(Sung to the tune of “Ding Dong Merrily On High”…or more accurately “Branle de l’Official”)
Buy/sell merrily at Z/Yen, In market games we’re trading; Buy/sell heavily, you ken, Z/Yen coffers we are raiding.
ExtZy, For prizes or donations; ExtZy, For prizes or donations.
This lark isn’t just a game, We’re Z/Yen Communitizing; Building membership’s our aim, And benchmark analyzing.
ExtZy, For prizes or donations; ExtZy, For prizes or donations.
Play through Avatars we’ve made, Z/Yen peoples’ role as ringers; Let’s just hope that when we trade, We’re better play’rs than singers.
ExtZy, For prizes or donations; ExtZy, For prizes or donations.
It is extraordinary how, when I was planning this year’s Z/Yen festive singing, all roads led back to my early music teacher, Ian Pittaway, really quite by chance. The Now & Z/Yen piece doth explain.
Rest assured, a fine time was had by all and that, despite our brawl in the Guildhall, we would be welcomed back there.
Well who’d have thought it? You see The Double Dealer at the National Theatre as a teenager in 1978 and then, quick as a forty-year flash, another London production comes around.
to enjoy a backstage tour of the National and see a matinee of the 1978 production in the Olivier Theatre 12 October 1978 – written up here.
When this 2018 production was announced for the Orange Tree, one of our favourite fringe theatres, my immediate reaction was that I simply had to see it. But Janie really doesn’t like restoration comedy at all…like…not at all. So we resolved that I would go to Richmond midweek to see this one.
A game of real tennis – a fitting activity to precede seeing a play by William Congreve
I played real tennis late afternoon at Lord’s, then drove over to Richmond to see the play. Tennis is an especially appropriate activity before seeing Congreve, I discovered, as William Congreve managed and premiered most of his plays (subsequent to The Double Dealer) at Lisle’s Tennis Court, aka Lincoln’s Inn Fields Playhouse, in the last few years of the 17th century and the early 1700s.
I took my seat a little early and observed several members of the cast scurrying back and forth across the stage as if still setting up the party which forms the backdrop to the play The Double Dealer. The conceit of this production is that the audience is, in effect, other guests at the party, so the cast at times engages with members of the audience. I thought that aspect worked really well, although one gentleman sitting next to me seemed more than a little nervous of, as he described it, “audience participation”.
Actually I think the cast were, prior to the start of the play, deliberately trying to suss out the audience – working out who might respond willingly or less willingly to such business. As luck (or ill-fortune, depending on your view) would have it, the two seats next to me were unoccupied.
Dharmesh Patel, who was playing Careless, sat next to me for a while before the show and asked me whether I was an Orange Tree fan, a restoration fan or neither. I told him about my 1978 experience with the play and that I was also an Orange Tree fan. He told me that Selina Cadell, the director, had seen and talked about that star-studded 1978 production it a lot in rehearsal. I said that I was hoping for better. “No pressure then”, he said.
Of course, it is not a competition between the two productions. The equivalent budget for the National production would have been orders of magnitude higher. The Orange Tree holds 180 people maximum; the Olivier can hold nearly 1000 more people than that. It is almost like producing the work for a different medium.
From a personal point of view, my response as a kid of 16, experiencing a major theatrical production for the first time, having had a thrilling backstage look at the play and the production beforehand, cannot be compared with my response 40+ years later, having seen and experienced so much else since.
Not a kid any more.
One intriguing parallel between 1978 and 2018 is a context of political turmoil and Machiavellian-style politics – even more so in 2018 in fact. The Double Dealer is not an especially sophisticated play – in fact it is quite straightforward by the baroque standards of the period – but it surely was written to illustrate political intrigue as well as the overt intrigue of families and sexual relationships depicted.
I read the play in its entirety, for the first time, the night before going to The Orange Tree – from this wonderful Project Gutenburg source, here. When I read the following couplet, from Maskwell’s (The Double Dealer’s) soliloquy at the end of Act One:
One minute gives invention to destroy, What to rebuild will a whole age employ.
…my immediate thought was, “that reminds me of Brexit.” When Maskwell said that line on the night, a woman in the audience said out loud exactly what I had thought when reading the night before.
Actually, the Maskwell character reminds me even more of the Double Dealer President across the pond, who is shaking up domestic US and global politics with his harem-scarem style. Except that Maskwell is a far more charismatic villain – at least he is so in the hands of Edward MacLiam, a pantomime villain perhaps, but still a charismatic one.
One element of the play I didn’t notice at all the first time, partly by virtue of my youth and partly by virtue of the time, was the female element of the sexual politics involved. The Lady Touchwood character (played well by Zoë Waites, who had to work especially hard, as she also played Cynthia, well) is a fairly straightforward villain, but the Lady Plyant character (played by Jenny Rainsford in 2018, having been Dorothy Tutin’s award-winning role in 1978) is surprisingly complex. In a way she is also a Double Dealer – but as a woman she is (to milk the card game metaphor dry) playing with a lesser hand with fewer tricks. She knows she can use her sexual allure to some advantage but, having made the decision to marry an old man she does not fancy at all, is frustrated and in thrall to her own sexual desires. In a modern sexual politics context, the #MeToo movement and fake news phenomena came to mind as well.
Personally, I enjoyed the audience interaction, of which I thought the cast did plenty, but not too much. The production could have descended into excessive pantomime style in the second half but they wisely reigned in most of the ad lib business as the plot plays out to its inevitable denouement.
I also appreciated the use of the original Purcell music, being a bit of an early music aficionado myself. Paul Reid and Hannah Stokely (as Lord & Lady Froth) performed Cynthia Frowns as a solo voice and cello duet extremely well for the context of the play. They are clearly both capable musicians, so it sounded lovely, but they made their efforts come across as “just difficult enough” to be in keeping with their faux culture vulture characters.
Listed as “Celia (Cynthia) Frowns” – even Purcell recycled his original material it seems – who knew?
In short, in my view, this production of The Double Dealer is a really excellent revival of an interesting but not great restoration work.
The reviews have been mixed – click here – but I’d certainly recommend this production (unless, like Janie, you have an aversion to restoration comedy) as a thoroughly entertaining evening at the theatre, with enough in the text and performances to please thoughtful members of the audience too.
Janie and I had planned a day off that Monday anyway, so Brian Eno’s seasonal bash shifting to the Monday worked well for us – a rare opportunity for Janie to join in that fun.
We had been keen to see Japan House in Kensington since we learned of its arrival in London:
It was well worth seeing – many different artists displaying subtle ideas about making art from, or at least enhanced by, paper.
Then on to Brian’s party. I was keen to get there in good time to join in the singing. This is not seasonal singing but it is an opportunity to join in with Brian’s rather excellent a capella choir. A mixture of old and modern songs, carefully honed week in, week out by the regulars, who largely manage to prevent keen irregulars like me from ruining the sound.
Plenty of time for some eating, drinking and chatting – as usual with Brian’s parties, we chatted with several very pleasant and interesting people – before the dancing started in earnest. Janie is never a wall flower when there is a chance to dance and I knew that Brian’s choice of music is mostly right up Janie’s street.
Two very tiring hours later, Janie and I thought we should make our excuses and go – we both had work in the morning and felt we had left it all out on the dance floor by then. Good times.
The Alun Armstrong character is a deputy headmaster, a teacher of 45 years standing, who is due to retire. Maggie Steed is his wife and Nicola Walker is their estranged daughter.
I don’t think it is a spoiler to explain that the central aspect of the controversy in which the central character is embroiled is his use of the cane, until corporal punishment was prohibited in the mid 1980s…
…or is it? The play’s title is The Cane, so it must simply be about that topic. Certainly the cane is a central artifact to the plot…
…yet much of the story doesn’t really add up. Would modern school children really riot against a teacher, days before his retirement, simply because he used to administer the cane 30+ years ago? Surely there must be more to it than that?
Similarly, much of the family’s back story doesn’t exactly add up or reconcile between their memories either. Axe marks on the wall are a visible example throughout the piece.
Janie saw these conundrums (or do I mean conundra?) as signs of weakness in the plot, but I thought the cane was a metaphor for the use of violence as a disciplinary measure generally. I thought the play was a metaphor for power struggles and violence within institutions like schools, within families, between teachers and pupils, between husbands, wives and children.
Still, it was hard to sympathize with any of the characters. In particular, the Maggie Steed character seemed at once pathetically weak and yet hell-bent on making forceful, irreversible decisions in an attempt to assert some element of power. I think Maggie Steed’s voice was failing on our night, which hopefully is a passing issue, but her floundering gestures didn’t really work for either of us. Perhaps she can control and channel those a bit more convincingly between preview and press night.
Janie didn’t find Alun Armstrong’s character sinister enough either, whereas I thought his manner of suppressed violence disguised by a kindly veneer was sufficiently creepy or sinister for me. Vincent Price without the ham.
Similarly, for me, the Nicola Walker character was sinister. We couldn’t get to the bottom of her motivation, even by the end of the play, but I think that air of mystery was the writer’s intention. At first you wondered how this person could be the daughter of those parents – by the end I thought I could see the echoes – a different style of controlling behaviour and a different style of violence – but still those characteristics to the fore.
Personally, I liked the debate about education within the play. In the absence of physical discipline through corporal punishment, how do teachers maintain control. (Answer, in my view, mostly by teaching well.)
There was a fascinating speech from Nicola Walker’s character about discipline the modern way in academy schools – a form of, “eyes front at all times, no talking in the corridors between lessons”. I could imagine that being effective as discipline…but I’m not sure I’d have been any more comfortable in that sort of disciplinary environment than I was/would have been in the old-fashioned “threat of corporal punishment” environment.
Whether that debate would seem as interesting or insightful to those mixed up in the education system (either as parents, teachers or pupils) today I have no idea, but it seemed relevant and interesting to me, sitting (as I do) on the outside of education for several decades.
Before the play we got chatting with a woman in the drinks queue who turned out to be Gaynor Churchward…Minnie Driver’s mum. It would have been interesting to have learnt after the show what she thought about the play; her life experience of schooling being rather unusual and very different from either of ours. But we didn’t stick around to chat with anyone – we dashed off for a shawarma supper and a reasonably early night.
I agree with Janie to some extent that the piece might benefit from a little more naturalism and direct tackling of the issues/story, but I still found the production a worthwhile and enjoyable evening in the theatre, in the hands of some expert theatrical operators.
Long ago arranged and long looked forward to, the (ir)regular gathering of old boys from Alleyn’s seemed to be looming as normal (Walrus & Carpenter followed by Rajasthan), when out of the blue we received a missive from our (un)official organizer, John Eltham, with some unexpected changes.
There are 15 people signed up for our festive evening. PLEASE NOTE NEW VENUE – 200 YARDS DIFFERENCE 7.00PM Hung, Drawn & Quartered pub – 26-27 Great Tower Street… 8.00PM Sripur restaurant – 25 Great Tower Street – yes it is next door !
The change would be more than a little discombobulating for some. Let us not forget that Nigel Boatswain, for example, a few years ago, struggled to find a new venue that was described to him as “right in front of the Monument”, because he couldn’t figure out a landmark from which to navigate. Mike Jones, who had been our Geography teacher back in days of yore, must have found his former charge’s geo-spacial shortcomings somewhat chastening.
In fact Mike Jones was one of several people who was listed to attend this 6 December gathering but latterly dropped out. He might have found the name of the pub an affront to his liberal arts background. Not only does the name describe a particularly barbaric medieval form of capital punishment, but a grammatically flawed rendering thereof. In my minds ear, I can hear Mike Jones gently correcting…
…hanged, drawn & quartered, NOT hung. Paintings are/were hung, people unfortunate enough to be executed that way were hanged.
Execution of Hugh Despenser the Younger, …[from] the Froissart of Louis of Gruuthuse (Public Domain picture https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanged,_drawn_and_quartered)
That barbaric punishment was reserved for high treason and was abolished nearly 150 years ago, although the hanging bit stuck around a lot longer and treason only (technically) ceased to be a capital offence 20 or so years ago.
In these troubled times, of course, who knows what legislative changes our so-called leaders might make in the crime and punishment department. Further, many of us who gathered have been known to say publicly things that certain tabloid newspapers might deem to make us “enemies of the people”…which is to say, treasonous.
Personally I have far less to worry about than most of my compadres, as I am a Freeman of the City of London. Thus, if I were to be hanged, I could choose to be dispatched with a silken rope, not the common or garden rubbish rope that my co-conspirators would doubtless suffer. I find that thought incredibly reassuring in the present political climate.
But I digress.
In the end, nine of us gathered and a jolly good gathering it was too, although those who were unable to attend were, of course, sorely missed. In no particular order, the nine were: Ben Clayson, David French, David Wellbrook, John Eltham, Ollie Goodwin, Paul Driscoll, Paul Spence, Rohan Candappa, me.
It was an incredibly mild evening, enabling us to take our pre-dinner libations in the street, although John Eltham did complain about feeling cold at one juncture. But then again, John had removed his coat for some reason.
The Sripur Restaurant was heaving and our group of nine was clearly at least one more than the restaurant was expecting. To be fair, the booking for 14 which had descended to “probably 8-10” in some ways deserved its relegation. We all nine squeezed round a table that would have been comfy for six and just about OK for eight. It didn’t really matter.
The food was pretty good. Perhaps not quite as flavoursome as the Rajasthan (he says based on one main dish and some sides), but similar quality.
The Sripur Nine were all in pretty good form. The bants and reminiscences flew around the table like a metaphorical food fight with poppadom-Frisbees.
Towards the end of the meal, Rohan Candappa solemnly announced that he had a sports trophy to award. he noted that most of the people in our group had been pretty sporty at school; only one or two of us had not. But, as Rohan pointed out, there should be sports awards for exceptional performance even when it comes from someone less naturally sporty than most.
Rohan then passed an engraved trophy around the room for everyone to read, much to the mirth, one by one, of the readers…one by one, that is, to everyone except me. Once John Eltham had the prize in his hands, he was instructed to hand it to me.
9 June 1975 – Fives Quarter Final – Ian Harris beat John Eltham
What a moment in my less-than illustrious sporting career. A trophy. Of course, Rohan was right. I had never personally held a trophy for sport of any kind. That quarter-final win remains the pinnacle of my achievement at an individual sport.
Left to right: John Eltham (just in picture), Rohan Candappa, Paul Driscoll & Ollie Goodwin…with MY trophy centre
I proudly took my trophy back to the flat and have placed it in as suitable a location as I can currently muster – in the drinks cabinet section of my built-in book shelves and cabinets, between two personalised krugs (beer steins).
But I am not expecting my sporting awards (belated and future) to start and end here; why on earth should they?
…and who knows what future glories are to come in the world of real tennis, where I have managed quarter final berths (albeit losing ones) in each of the two years I have been playing internal tournaments at Lord’s. And occasionally representing the club:
So, my dear old school friends, especially the sporty ones, I need your help. I mean, obviously the drinks cabinet will do for the time being as a temporary resting place for my trophy, but clearly I need to have built a bespoke trophy cabinet for my current and potential future collection of sporting trophies. You fellows, accustomed to the world of sporting trophies, surely can advise me on the size and shape of trophy cabinet that will serve me best.
But that is about me and the future – this article is primarily about the splendid gathering of old boys eating, drinking, banting and making merry in the City. As usual the time flew by, until several folks with trains to catch realised that their choices were starting to diminish and that the evening should come to an end.
As usual with this group, we managed to avoid the dreaded bodmin, although some suggested that we should play the game of spoof to saddle one “boy” with the whole bill. We decided against, but I note on reading up on that (unfamiliar to me) game, that some play spoof for prizes and trophies. Perhaps I should get into spoof at a competitive level – I was a dab hand at bridge back in the old school days.
It was a great evening – I’m already looking forward to the next one.
Yes, you’ve seen it written here in black and white; we dined in a vegetarian restaurant, Vanilla Black, suggested by John White.
I hope you’re not going soft on me, John…
…I said, when John’s suggestion came in. But John insisted that this Michelin-starred vegetarian restaurant was quite exceptional; he had tried the place recently with one of his daughters, Lydia.
Next it will be veganism and after that John will become an even fussier eater than Kim.
John and I discussed those possibilities early in the evening and concluded that my concerns (and especially Janie’s) were ill-founded. We should have had that early discussion in the Seven Stars pub nearby, but I was a little late and John was running even later, so we agreed that I would abandon the (to be honest, over-crowded) pub and we’d meet in the restaurant.
This enabled John, although he had been running later than me, to get to the restaurant first. We texted each other with some bants while I was walking and when I arrived at Vanilla Black, John was texting away, presumably in my direction. I suggested that we might stop doing “the youngster thing” (sitting in restaurants playing with our phones rather than talking), but John wondered whether conversation by text while face-to-face might be fun. (No.)
Carrot Broth, Coffee Shortbread and Carrot Cake – Pickled Walnuts and Spiced Carrot Purée (John )
Edamame Bean Ice Cream, Sesame Cracker and Nasturtium – Crispy Soy Sauce, Pean and Edamame Bean Salsa (Me)
Then we progressed to:
Celeriac Profiteroles, Dill and Raisins – Vanilla Roasted Celeriac and Pickled Red Cabbage (John)
Fried Shiitake, Pine Nut Purée and Crispy Enoki – Marsala and Pine Salt (me)
Then we found room for deserts too:
Gianduja Chocolate Brownie and Roasted Hazelnut Ice Cream – Tiger Nut Milk, Salted Chocolate and Nutella Powder (John)
Banana Ice Cream, Whipped Toffee and Banana Biscuit – Vanilla Cream and Toffee (Me)
All of the food was genuinely delicious and we both agreed that we were having an excellent meal.
We tried a rather interesting wine from the excellent wine list, which went well with our food, although the staff said that most punters are not brave enough to try it: ORANGE WINE ZERO-GMT, MULLER THURGAU. John and I were sufficiently brave and were rewarded for our bravery.
As usual, we discussed many subjects, ranging from personal, work, through the ghastly domestic politics to international affairs. When the topical subjects of the Uyghur people in Xinjiang and the Chinese Social Credit System came up over dessert, John said that it reminded him of the fate of Citizen Smith. I paused for a moment and suggested,
I think you mean Winston Smith from 1984, Citizen Smith was the Freedom For Tooting fellow.
We had a bit of a laugh about that and I promised to milk the joke on Ogblog.
I imagine a couple of scenarios in which we switch the characters around. For example, a comedic version of 1984 in which Big Brother’s thought police spy on Wofie (Citizen) Smith only to discover how hapless he is so they decide to leave him alone:
Image from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Citizen_smith.jpg – based on the same fair use rationale as Wikipedia
Alternatively, a dystopian version of Citizen Smith, in which Winston’s parochial attempts to liberate Tooting from the clutches of Wandsworth Council inexorably lead to Winston Smith’s torture and incarceration in the dreaded Room 101, in which dire situation comedies from the 1970s and 1980s are shown on a loop until the victim breaks down and submits to the authorities.
Image from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Winston_Smith.jpg – based on the same fair use rationale as Wikipedia
John obviously thought my ideas for milking his slip of the tongue were very funny, as he laughingly gestured that he thought I should milk the joke with at least four scenarios:
So, I think it is safe to say that John has not gone soft on me after all.
In fact, the more observant reader (who drills into the menu) might notice that it was me who ate an entirely vegan meal that evening – not by vegan design but simply because the dishes I chose all happened to be vegan.
Even Janie seems to be somewhat of a convert after I showed her the pictures and described the dishes – I can hear her on the telephone as I write telling Kim that she thinks Vanilla Black might be a good place for them to go.
As always, it was great to catch up with John regardless of the food and drink- although we do try (and mostly succeed) in also having great food and drink too. This Vanilla Black and John White evening was great in all of those respects.
Exceptional Schmaltz Herring; the people’s choice as well as the judge’s
Don’t ask me how or why she does it, but Jacquie seemed set on the idea of a seasonal herring fest again this year, despite her (and latterly us) being away for the regular season and despite the stupendous effort that must be involved.
Eight of us gathered for dinner at Jacquie’s place; Josh, Melody, Sonia, Michael, Hils, me and Janie.
We spent the early part of the evening – some would even call it late afternoon – drinking, chatting and (in some cases) getting to know each other. For me and Janie, this was the first time we’d met Sonia (Jacquie’s friend) and Melody (Josh’s girlfriend). Everyone else we’ve known for yonkers.
Hils and Janie on a previous occasion – neither Chez Briegal nor a herring-fest
In truth, to call the meal a herring fest is a bit of a misnomer – or more specifically an understatement – as the culinary delights on show go way beyond herring; smoked salmon, poached salmon, gefilte fish balls, egg-and-onion, cheeses…
…I could go on and very often I do go on.
Talking of which, the talking is as much a central part of the evening as the eating. The conversation covered all manner of subjects, ranging from topical politics, to new media and Cheryl Cole. I must admit I was very weak on the latter subject. I blame The Economist, which seems to pay that pivotal icon of our times ridiculously little regard. I should consider cancelling my subscription.
But I digress.
Jacquie and Hilary set about a concerted lobbying campaign on behalf of the schmaltz herring, in a flagrant attempt to influence the judging.
“Mmmm, the Schmaltz Herring is especially yummy this year, don’t you think?
…and…
The Bismark Herring is very good, but not like the Schmaltz
…and…
The Sweet Herring is not quite a subtle as last time, is it?
…and…
The Swedish you say, Melody? Do you really think so? Nice, but a little bland, no?
You get the picture. My bloody-mindedness gene, which easily comes to the fore in such circumstances (it’s family, I can talk about this openly) was straining to award the coveted prize to anything other than the Schmaltz Herring.
The problem was, though, that this year the Schmaltz Herring really was exceptional in my opinion too. The Swedish, a new entrant this time, perhaps by dint of the event taking place late in the year, was extremely, indeed unexpectedly good – a very well-rounded flavour of herring – but not quite as exceptional.
So, after explaining the rules to the uninitiated (delicacies such as chopped herring and herring in sour cream have lifetime achievement awards, as does Jacquie herself of course, but it is only the unadulterated herrings that get judged in competition) – the results:
Highly Commended: Swedish Herring – superb effort from a new entrant
International Herring Award: Schmaltz Herring – utterly exceptional this time
Winners: everyone who attended – it was a lovely evening, as always.
Many, many thanks, Jacquie.
Give it up one more time for the Schmaltz Herring…what little is left of it.
And finally, one more (weirdly-shaped) picture of the smörgåsbord, courtesy of Hils. Thanks Hils.
We’ve been interested in Martin Crimp’s writing for years. Sometimes his plays are a bit too weird even for us, but they always make us think and are usually chock-full of suspense and creepiness.
Dealing With Clair is no exception. One of Crimp’s earlier works this, when he was writing exclusively for The Orange Tree, it is very loosely based on the Suzy Lamplugh tragedy, which occurred a short while before the writing of this play and not too far away from Richmond.
Yet, this play from 30 years ago seems very contemporary and relevant today in this production.
The whole cast was excellent.
Our hearts sank a little when we saw that the designer had gone for one of those “behind a screen” designs, which we tend not to like, but actually it worked extremely well for this production, not least because the screen is removed at a telling moment in the play.
By gosh the play is creepy. We were talking about it a lot, for ages, after the evening – which is usually a sign that a play/production has really affected us – which this one surely did.
There are plenty of review snippets on the above links to the Orange Tree, but click here for links to the full reviews – mostly very good ones which the production thoroughly deserves.
I keep saying it, but the Orange Tree is doing great work at the moment – I hope they keep it going.
