I know from my own years editing the Middlesex Till We Die (MTWD) website that one of the toughest jobs is getting enough articles for the winter. Sportnetwork require regular editorial material as the quid quo pro for providing their site and system.
So when I chatted with Barmy Kev in the autumn, explaining to him what Ogblog is about and offering him some ideas for pieces, the answer was, “I could do with some stuff for after Christmas”.
I suspect that many county cricket lovers occasionally have afternoons like that when the matches suddenly get very interesting indeed.
Yes I did catch up with my work in the end as well, thank you for asking, for those Ogblog readers too lazy even to click the link and read a few hundred words. Honestly.
Unfortunately for Janie, Unreachable by Anthony Neilson might be described as a theatrical equivalent of jazz. Neilson’s writing technique is to start with no more than an outline and to work up a piece through workshops, rehearsals, trial and error.
So much so that, rarely for the Royal Court, there was no play text available for this piece. Simon David at the bookstall told us proudly that the piece is still being devised even beyond press night (which was the previous night). Simon also commended the piece to us.
I got a heck of a lot more out of it than Janie did. She hated the piece so much she even wanted to abandon me and the car at half time; then reluctantly relented and agreed to stay for the remaining 45 minutes, suggesting that she might sleep a bit during that second half. But it wasn’t a relaxing enough piece to fall asleep in much, according to Janie. I agree with that last point.
The play opens with a scene showing Natasha (a very confident young actress named Tamara Lawrance) auditioning for a role in a movie. We hear the dismembered voice of auteur/director Max (played by Matt Smith) describing the film. It is set in a dystopian near future after a virus has wiped out most of the population etc. etc.
Some members of the audience laugh at this horrifying scenario; presumably they have been told that the play is basically a comedy. But Natasha then acts out a quite lengthy gruelling monologue as a mother who believes that a malevolent militia is about to inflict terrible cruelties upon her and her child.
…because, beyond that early monologue, Unreachable is basically a lightweight, albeit black comedy, looking behind the scenes at the world of movies and movie-making people. They are a grotesque, dysfunctional lot, if this play is to be believed. Probably the play shouldn’t entirely be believed.
Another element you might find hard to believe (but this bit is true) is that Janie and I live in such a limited-TV-viewing bubble that we had no idea that Matt Smith was Doctor Who. We just thought of him as the fine young actor we saw in That Face by Polly Stenham a few years ago. But it was clear from the business he was given to perform and the audience reaction to it that Matt’s performance was the centre-piece of the play…
…until the arrival of the craziest character of all; Jonjo O’Neill’s Ivan “The Brute”.
Even Janie agreed that all of the performances were very good. She just struggled to get her head around the play. The plot was perhaps so superficial Janie was looking for “more in it” when there was no more to be had.
But I laughed a lot and enjoyed the sheer nonsensical intrigue of it. Indeed, in our troubled post-referendum times, the preposterous back-stabbing, feigned walk-outs and the politically-motivated engagement of an uncontrollable anarchic element in the interests of some unattainable “light at the end of the tunnel”… it seemed to me to be quite an appropriate tonic for the live-arts-supporting troops at the moment.
As for the jazz analogy, well clearly the cast seemed to be enjoying themselves enormously. In particular, once Jonjo O’Neill got going with Ivan’s foul tongue and ludicrous boasts, you could tell that not only the audience but also the other members of the cast didn’t quite know where his verbal cadenzas might go. The other actors needed to react quickly to those crazy outbursts without corpsing; which they were able to most but not all of the time.
To be fair, although Janie didn’t enjoy herself and some audience members left at half time, the vast majority stayed and were clearly enjoying themselves at least as much, if not more than the cast.
The Royal Court will no doubt post some reviews eventually, but they are only starting to come out, as the press night was the night before our visit. So far:
We enjoyed a drink and some nibbles while keeping an eye on the Murray v Berdych score, the latter activity being quite prevalent in the bar. Kindly, Murray finished off Berdych just before the bell for the concert.
Now I had been looking forward to this concert for yonks. Chick Corea would have been on my bucket list if bucket lists had been invented back in the day when I first came across him.
Chick Corea is clearly an old campaigner who just turns up and does his thing. Christian McBride is clearly in awe. None of this aspect pleased Janie at all. Nor did the jazz style.
“This is corny old rubbish”, whispered Janie to me after Chick Corea’s solo effort. A little unfair, I thought. You don’t win 60+ Grammy nominations for corny old rubbish.
In short, the concert pleased me more than it did Janie. It’ll be interesting to hunt for reviews over the next few days. Meanwhile, the Wigmore Hall stub will need to suffice.
We booked the day off, primarily to see the Georgia O’Keeffe exhibition at the Tate Modern.
I arranged to play real tennis in the morning and had also arranged to collect my new super-duper tennis racket when there, which Janie was very kindly buying for me as my birthday present. Janie and I ummed and ahhed about the logistics for the day, eventually landing on the idea that Janie would come to the flat and we’d go to Lord’s in Dumbo together. Janie quite enjoys sitting in the dedans gallery reading and/or watching the tennis. So that we did.
I had a hard game. We watched Chris playing with a very good player for a while after I showered and then went back to the flat for a quick bite of lunch before heading off by tube to the Tate Modern.
On arrival, we had a quick look at the Mona Hatoum exhibition before going to the O’Keeffe. As Janie is a member with a concession for a guest, we effectively have freedom of the place for all exhibitions.
Some of the Mona Hatoum pieces are very interesting, even stunning, but most of her work is quite stark. Janie described it as violent. Certainly dark.
The highlight of our visit was unquestionably the Georgia O’Keeffe. A rare chance to see her work and a huge one-off collection of it too. I particularly liked her more abstract pieces (both the early and late period abstracts). Janie liked the flower pictures as well as the abstracts – indeed Janie liked most of it. Incredible use of colour. The story of her development as an artist, under the wing of Alfred Stieglitz, is also interesting. Afterwards, I bought Janie a book oriented towards that aspect of O’Keeffe’s story.
I wasn’t much taken by the Bhupen Khakhar work. Some of the later works were quite interesting and I like the colours he used, but most of the work seemed very crude to me (artistically I mean, although also, as it happens, in terms of subject matter). Still, glad we took the time to see it.
Then we went to have a look at the Mark Rothko Seagram Murals, which we hadn’t seen before. Neither of us felt the contemplative spirituality promised. But again, glad I have seen them now.
Finally, we went across to the Switch House in search of the macaws (which we missed out on last time) only to be disappointed again. The owners have now withdrawn the macaws temporarily because they don’t seem happy being looked at by lots of people…probably not a great idea to exhibit them at the most visited modern art museum in the world, then.
Tony and Liz’s caravan. Not Jason Gillespie’s caravan. Why anyone might imagine it to be Jason Gillespie’s caravan, or why anyone might ask Jason for the location of his caravan, is entirely beyond me.
Our original plan was to spend a week or so in North Yorkshire, but Janie’s success with the Wimbledon ballot for 1 July and her desire to be back 6 July for the Hampton Court flower show, meant a shorter trip this time, just to Scarborough. Still, we’d have the opportunity to see Tony and Liz, plus take in a couple of days of cricket.
Despite our having raved about Cafe Fish on our previous visit to Scarborough in 2014, advice which Chris and Charlotte took and with which they concurred, Tony & Liz still hadn’t tried the place. So Janie booked it for the Saturday night as our treat for Tony’s birthday.
By booking our hotel early enough in the year this time, we’d managed to get a decent size of room at the Palm Court Hotel ; much nicer than the hotel we’d stayed previously and a joy to have the parking behind the Palm Court guaranteed as part of the deal.
Saturday 2 July
A relatively event-free journey – we set off in good time, leaving the flat very early and only stopping at the house for 90 minutes or so – the “5 minute stop” Janie had promised she needed. Still, we got to Scarborough mid afternoon, so there was time for some rest before meeting Tony and Liz. Janie went off to get a swimming costume, having forgotten that the hotel had a pool. In the end, neither of us swam. I watched the denouement of the Querrey v Djokovic match from yesterday and called Janie to tell her the result while she was still at the shops choosing her cossy.
Tony and Liz came to the hotel for a drink before we wandered three minutes down the road to Cafe Fish. There we ran into Harry and Blossom Latchman, their friend Elaine and Geoff Norris, who were getting towards the end of their meal. Janie and I remembered (and were remembered by) the Cafe Fish people, especially proprietor William, so we really must have seemed like the locals on home turf despite being in Tony and Liz’s home town. Tony and Liz were a bit discombobulated by all this.
Unsurprisingly, we had an excellent meal at Cafe Fish; I think Tony and Liz thoroughly enjoyed it. They walked back to our hotel with us, having arranged for their cab to meet them at the Palm Court rather than the restaurant.
Sunday 3 July
A fine breakfast and good weather (albeit with a cool northern breeze) for our first day at the cricket. A pleasant walk from the Palm Court to North Marine Road and (as previously) a very straightforward matter to collect our visitors’ tickets and make our way to the pavilion.
Janie took this picture just before the start of play on Day One
There we were greeted by Robin and Jennifer Smith (whom I had got to know last year at Headingley) and also Tony (a former Yorkshire committee member I’d met last year at Headingley), plus the regular Yorkshire host Geoff Cope with his delightful dog Queenie. From the Middlesex side, Andy West was there and we were assured that Harry, Blossom and Geoff were around – they had taken sanctuary from the cool breeze behind glass, one level down.
That pavilion balcony spot is a great place to view the cricket. Yorkshire had won the toss and elected to bat. Most people thought it a good toss to win at Scarborough, but the ball seemed to do a bit; Yorkshire batted well and Middlesex bowled without luck that first morning.
At lunch, Harry presented Janie with her life membership of Middlesex, which was a lovely surprise for her. Mind you, as she managed to get the lunchtime conversation onto controversial subjects such as Brexit, feminism and commercial ethics within the space of about 20 minutes, “life” started to sound more like a sentence for everyone else than an award for Janie! Actually, joking apart, that Yorkshire group are an interesting bunch for proper conversation.
As always, the day passed quickly. Yorkshire looked well placed at the end of the day just shy of 300 with only 5 wickets down. We walked back to the hotel and like doing very little indeed in the evening, which is precisely what we did.
Monday 4 July
Brighter start to the day than yesterday. Again a pleasant breakfast in the hotel and then the walk to North Marine Road. A smaller group for lunch today, but for tea we were joined by Shirley Houghton (David Houghton’s wife) plus John Hampshire & his good lady. I didn’t realise that John Hampshire had been the first coach of the Zimbabwean test team when the southern African teams rejoined the international fold in the 1990s.
Fairly soon after tea it got gloomy and then it started to rain. There was a brief respite, but only brief before the light deteriorated again. Middlesex only two down but a long way from safety still.
We walked back to our hotel in the gloom, hoping to get in before the end of the Murray v Kyrgios match and before the heavens opened. We ran into Barmy Kev, Big Harv and another of the Middlesex regulars on St Thomas Street. We chatted for a while, in my case with one eye on the skies, declined the opportunity for a “swift drink” and got home just before the heavens opened. We took a couple of glasses of wine and some nibbles to our room and caught the end of the Murray match, plus some other interesting tennis on the box.
Tuesday 5 July
We had breakfast in the hotel, then checked out and drove over to Tony and Liz’s place for “elevenses” and a look at the progress they have made with their house since our last visit.
In the end we didn’t get away until lunchtime, which lengthened the drive home a bit, hitting the rush hour towards the end of the drive. Unusually, we split the journey into three; I did less than half the run, the Daisy took over the wheel but was feeling fatigued by Luton-ish so we stopped for petrol and had one more changeover, such that I did the final leg.
We followed the Yorkshire v Middlesex match on the way home, along with the tennis.
Wednesday 6 July
On the Wednesday, I played a good morning game of real tennis after clearing my e-mails and then worked from home in the afternoon, catching the end of the extraordinary Yorkshire v Middlesex match on the internet radio. This is how it panned out, scorecard-wise. Who’d have thought it? Back to Lord’s in the evening for another “last minute sub” game of real tennis; two very good, close matches in one day – exhausting.
A little bit of tennis history, Querrey v Djokovic
Janie seems to have a knack with the Wimbledon ballot; two years in the last three she has been allocated seats for No.1 Court on the first Friday of the tournament. Even last year we ended up with a couple of last minute, random tickets for No.2 Court on the first Wednesday.
But while Janie’s balloting-winning skills are beyond reproach, her ability to control the weather on the days of our Wimbledon visits is decidedly dodgy.
This time, we were a little disappointed when the tickets arrived to find that we were almost right at the back of No.1 Court in Row Y. However, with iffy weather on the cards, we were pleased to discover that we would be well and truly under cover back there. In any case, “right at the back” is not all that far back on that court.
I was on picnic duties for today, although Janie had so over-provided the previous weekend that many of the major contents emanated from her. Cray fish in dill mayonnaise (which I placed inside Paul Rhodes’s brioche rolls), mini-wiches with Cornish Yarg and sesame bagels stuffed with a wonderful mature cheddar. A fruity Riesling earlier in the day and a Californian Pinot Noir, half of which made it home afterwards. Top picnic, though I say so myself.
Why were we picinicing there? Oh yes, tennis.
First up, after a short rain delay before the match even started, was Venus Williams v Daria Kasatkina. Daria is only 19 but already looks every bit a star in the making. She coped with the dual problems of Venus and the rain extremely well – this article – click here – reviews the match comprehensively. The rain delay on match point was a first for us and also was, apparently, a first even for the uber-experienced Venus. Even ignoring the rain delays, this was a very long but fascinating match.
Then, Sam Querrey v Novak Djokovic. About four games into the first set, I said to Janie, “if I were a creature from outer space who had simply been told that one of these two players was far and away the best in the world, I’d be thinking that player must be Querrey just at the moment”. Janie agreed.
The first set was a real tussle, which Querrey won. The second was a rout by Querrey. We thought we might witness a major upset, but the heavens opened within moments of Querrey winning the second set and that was it for the day.
Here’s the BBC report on the whole match – click here. I got to see the denouement on the TV the following day, as the continuing rain meant that the fellas didn’t get back onto the court until late afternoon. A major upset and we had witnessed much, indeed most of it.
I had a game of real tennis at 10:00 and arranged (with Chris’s blessing) to play again at 16:00. I made a short, promised visit to the Committee Room; then to the writing room to do some reading and watch some cricket.
Expecting Chris (Escamillo Escapillo) to arrive around 14:30, I packed up my things and left the reading room to find a “just arrived” message from Chris just as I left the room – good timing.
I watched some good cricket with Chris for just shy of 90 minutes until tea – then went across to the real tennis court again. Towards the end of the hour, Chris came and watched the real tennis, then went back to the pavilion while I changed.
…then one more drink for the road before parting company.
Chris wanted to get home to see the England v Iceland football match. So not a happy ending for Chris, but a happy afternoon for both of us to be sure.
These “Wigmore Hall Lates” always seem like a good idea when we book them, but unless we are out and about that evening, they always seem like a big effort late in the evening just for an hour long concert.
I placated Daisy for this one by preparing a dinner from Big Al DeLarge’s Emporium, Tavola. A veal ragu pasta preceded by a cold spinach soup.
Anyway, after the shock of the referendum result, we really didn’t much feel like going out but we did need some sustenance for the soul as well as for the body. This concert did the job.
The positive thing from the Wigmore Hall’s perspective, is that these late concerts do seem to be attracting a younger crowd, which must be part of the purpose. The not such good news is that, in the absence of a big name, the hall is far from full for these.
Anyway, Janie and I both agreed that, in the end, it had been worth the effort to go out for a one hour concert starting at 10:00. But then, my flat is mighty close to The Wig.
It was EU referendum day. In the future (possibly even before I’m gone) I expect economic and social historians will talk about “pre EU referendum” and “post EU referendum” as watershed points, certainly for the UK, possibly for Europe or even the whole western world. But today was referendum day itself.
It bucketed down with rain first thing, so I got quite a lot of work done while waiting for the rain to subside. I went to the gym mid morning, after the deluge, voted along the way and felt glad that the turnout was apparently very high despite the rain.
A light lunch, a bit more work and then over to Lord’s for a meeting with Richard to review the Middlesex strategy work, ahead of tonight’s televised T20 game. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the best slot to choose for reviewing a document, as there was lots of to-ing and fro-ing for the match.
But the afternoon and evening did prove a good opportunity to meet some of Richard’s other advisory people; at that early stage Ed Griffiths and later on Ed Villiers. Meeting these two certainly helped prove to me Richard’s technique (not that it needed proving) of surrounding himself with useful informal advisors. In this case it also proved the old maxim that “two Eds are better than one”, although each of those two was most impressive even as a solo act.
Meanwhile I had planned to meet Jez Horne, as indeed we did the previous week, when we had sat in the pavilion under our brollies for some time until the match was abandoned without a ball being bowled. The weather forecast for the evening was again shocking. Jez texted me, initially to say that he would delay leaving the office and then again later to say that the weather situation looked so hopeless that he would go straight home. I didn’t blame him.
It did look pretty hopeless to be honest, but Lord’s dries quickly and efforts are no doubt doubled and redoubled when Sky are there with their expensive crew and equipment. He who pays the piper calls the tune, the cricket decisions, the referendum results…
…anyway, Richard, Ed Griffiths and I decamped to the pavilion, settling on the Committee Room (that’s where we met Ed Villers and also Guy Lavender and his son Jack from Somerset). We waited more in hope than in expectation, especially after another band of rain put paid to some mopping up work and the clock ticked relentlessly on.
But that further band proved to be the last and soon an announcement came that the umpires had agreed to a 75 minute or so match of 9 overs per side.
After the match I joined the Committee and their guests for a post match drink in the Thomas Lord Suite before heading home to follow the referendum result. More excitement, but not the kind I wanted.
Just as well, really, because Janie had been really looking forward to this for months, which might have been a recipe for disappointment. She loves Chagall.
Anyway, it all went right on the night. We got to the neighbourhood ridiculously early, wanting to make sure we allowed time for the relatively long journey and time to park up without time pressure. As we had mistakenly written down 7:30 when in fact the play started at 8:00, we had plenty of time to anticipate the production.
A lady came and sat with us for a while, then in the interval did the same again, bringing her husband with her that time. Unusual.
The Playhouse is not all that comfy; we noted where we might prefer to sit for next time – only some rows have back support for example.
Lots of candlelight for this production, which pleased Janie. I liked the cockamamie set. It was a charming play – quite straightforwardly linear in telling the story of Marc and Bella Chagall. But the two leads, Marc Antolin and Audrey Brisson who really made the show; super talented and delightful to watch.
We’d had a terrific weekend of theatre; this one and Wild on Friday both really excellent. We celebrated with a take away from Mohsen’s – probably the best of the Persian places we have tried for Persian-style kebabs at least. Probably Jewish food would have been more fitting, but where can you get that at 22:30 on your way from Bankside to W3?
