In the summer of 1996 (or was it spring 1997?), we had spent a Sunday on the Thames, on Michael & Elisabeth’s Thames sailing barge, The Lady Daphne, along with, amongst others, Trevor Nunn & Imogen Stubbs. Trevor was busy reading an early Tennessee Williams script, Not About Nightingales, which had never been performed in the UK. Despite not being among Williams best work, Trevor suggested to us the play had a lot going for it. He was thinking of putting it on at the Royal National Theatre once he became Artistic Director there. I think his appointment had been announced but Trevor had not yet taken up the role when we met him.
Anyway, we were very keen to see the finished product once the production was announced and booked to see it at the start of its run.
The only critic who really matters here on Ogblog…me…wrote:
Powerful stuff – not a great play but very well executed.
I especially remember Finbar Lynch and Corin Redgrave putting in standout performances.
Charles Spencer in The Telegraph seemed to like it:
Don’t ask me how or why we had the stomach for this violent play but not for Shopping & F***ing the week before. Perhaps the violence seemed less gratuitous. Perhaps the way it was produced/directed.
Perhaps because we were demob happy – although we had cancelled our main spring holiday plans because of Phillie’s indisposition, we had decided to take a week off an go to Majorca for some much needed rest. We flew off early the next morning.
We do like a bit of Pinter. I was especially keen to see this one. I’d never seen the play performed live; this 1994 production was the first London production since the West End production in the 1960s. But I had seen the wonderful 1980s TV version with Pinter himself as Goldberg.
I’d also previously seen excerpts from the play performed live; not least by my own school mates in the late 1970’s when Dan O’Neill was selected for the role of Goldberg ahead of me because he could do a much better Goldberg accent than me. I don’t bear grudges but I do retain a sense of unjust cultural appropriation to this day, not least because I still cannot do a Goldberg-style accent. I played Aston in The Caretaker instead, but I digress.
I think Bobbie had a problem with that October weekend and we arranged to swap with a friend of hers to see this production midweek, on 30 September.
My production log says:
Went with Bobbie. Very good.
So what else is there to say? I remember it being a very big, busy play, with an enormous cast of courtiers attending to the protagonists. I remember laughing quite a lot. I suspect I would find it a bit cheesy if I saw it again now.
Nigel Hawthorne was very impressive and I suppose it is “quite a thing” that I saw him perform live.
I was probably quite tired that evening, as the diary shows I spent a long day flying up to West Lothian the day before on business – that will have been Sky with Michael – a memorable working day.
I suspect that this was the last time I went to the theatre with Bobbie. We probably had a post theatre meal, perhaps at the RNT itself or perhaps somewhere like RSJs or the Archduke.
I’m very partial to Athol Fugard’s work, but thirty years on, I remember very little about this one. Even the log, which was only a few years after the event, says:
Little recollection, strangely.
I saw this with Bobbie Scully, who seemed keen to see Fugard with me back then. Janie also has a taste for his work.
I think the problem for me/us was that it was a story that pre-dated Nelson Mandela’s release but we were seeing it very soon after that momentous event. In that sense it felt a bit like old news, although of course the injustices and arguments depicted were still (are still) relevant.
Saturday 3 December: Much sorting to do re flat – went to see Single Spies in eve – B came back to mine
My appointments diary informs me that my Zanussi washing machine was delivered to the flat that morning. I remember going for my first local shopping expedition after the machine arrived.
I am fairly sure that it was on that very first Saturday’s shopping spree that I found myself face-to-face with Van Morrison on the traffic island which divides the north from the south side of the Bayswater Road. We exchanged glances. I nodded, in as much of a “cool, nodding acquaintance” manner as I could muster.
I remember thinking that the Van encounter proved that I had really arrived in a hip, happening place – I was going to be rubbing shoulders with Van Morrison and people of that sort all the time from now on. Well, to some extent I suppose I have got to meet quite a lot of such media folk in the neighbourhood since, but that traffic island encounter with Van the Man was, sadly, a one-off. “No Van is an island”, I suppose.
Single Spies is actually two Alan Bennett plays: An Englishman Abroad and A Question Of Attribution. Both are about the Cambridge Spy Ring. The first of the two plays had been knocking around for a few years before this production – it is primarily about actress Coral Browne’s encounters with Guy Burgess. The second play was about Anthony Blunt’s role as art advisor to the Queen.
I thought the production (Single Spies, I mean, not Twelfth Night) was very good and said so in my notes. I’m pretty sure Bobbie liked the production too. I think we might have eaten at the National that evening – I can’t believe that I was geared up to cook yet at Clanricarde.
Sunday 4 December: Went to Pam & Michael’s in eve for dinner and bridge
I wonder who made the fourth for bridge that evening? It was before my irregular social group had emerged, so it wouldn’t have been Andrea on that occasion. I’ll guess it was a friend of Pam & Michael’s – perhaps one of the Setty/Gareh family or possibly it was Ralph Glasser. The diary is silent on such details – never mind.
I’ll have walked there and back, learning that Clanricarde Gardens to Pam & Michael’s place only takes around 15 minutes on foot. Cool.