From the edified atmosphere of The House of Commons to a theatre ticket agency in Charing Cross Road. It’s about 6pm on a Saturday and, surprise surprise, everything is pretty much sold out. But there were just a few tickets left for the second part of a two part play called The Inheritance. It was on at the nearby Noel Coward Theatre in St Martins Lane. But who would want to go to see the second part of a play without seeing the first part first? Well. ..we would, ..and we did!
The Inheritance is about the life and times of a group of diverse gay men living in New York with a bit of E.M.Forster chucked in for good measure. The above link is to a short review that appeared in The Guardian. The play is currently enjoying a run of success in London and has just transferred from The Young Vic theatre to the West End.
We managed to read up a bit about the first part of the play from a leaflet in the theatre lobby and the play had us all fully engrossed for the full three hours. The actors were all very good, especially the lead Kyle Soller, but they were all unknown to us (except for the brief appearance of Vanessa Redgrave). A complicated story. Not for everyone. But it turned out to be a good choice for us.
After Theatre: Try to listen to the music clip below. It’s Michael Jackson‘s ‘Want to be Startin’ Something’. If you’re reading this in a public place or have just woken up it’s a bit brutal, so skip it, but it only lasts 30 seconds and it sets the tone for the last bit this blog.
https://embed.music.apple.com/gb/album/wanna-be-startin-somethin/269572838?i=269572927“>
The above link may not work, I’m still a novice at all this. I’ve found an alternative YouTube link but it has an annoying advert before the track begins. You Tube link .
After the theatre the pavements were packed, with people spilling into the road. All the pubs were full to bursting, you couldn’t even get through the door. Everyone seemed, like us, to be having a really good time. There was a great atmosphere, if a bit crazy. Eventually we found a pub we could squeeze into.
Approaching midnight we were heading for the tube station, the crowds and the atmosphere, if anything, even more frenetic. Charing Cross Road thronged with all sorts of people, theatre goers, pub goers, old, young, groups, couples. Some of the younger ones cheering and staggering. The traffic was at a complete standstill. I was just thinking ‘this whole street is having a really good time and at any moment a party could break out’, when that much loved disco classic ‘Want to be Startin’ Something’ (in the above link) could be heard over the melee, and it was getting louder.
The source of the music turned out to be a brightly lit cycle rickshaw, weaving it’s way through the standing traffic towards us. As luck would have it, it came to a stop right where we were walking. The music was loud. Dancing could have broken out at any minute. There was lots of pink fur and pink lights: chaser lights and sparkly lights. The rickshaw looked like this:
The two women occupying it looked as if this was the most normal thing. No doubt there will be a whole rank of disco rickshaws for hire somewhere, but this one just arrived in the right place at the right time with the right music. But regrettably, the party didn’t break out.
Quavers: And then on the way home there was the Quavers. There was a young guy and his mate in a very happy mood standing next to us on the tube train. He was trying to hang onto the hand rail and also hold onto several packets of Quavers at the same time. It was a bit of a struggle, so he said to me: “Want some Quavers?”. He then started asking everyone else: “Want some Quavers?”. We helpfully relieved him of one of his packets, but all the other passengers just smiled and declined. So then there was quite a funny conversation about Quavers until we had to change at Stockwell. Goodness knows why he had all those packets, but in the moment, no one cared. Oh the fun just went on and on!
And finally there’s this:
Slotted Spoon Final Instalment: After the debacle of the first breakfast and the missing spoon, the next breakfast time was a similar catastrophe. This was the only thing we could find wrong about the perfect house, and we did, to our shame, make quite a big thing of it. It was therefore considered a touch of genius, when thinking of a thank you present, to decide to buy a slotted spoon for the returning residents. What jolly fun!
Only thing was, as we were doing the final clear up before leaving, what should Hardie find in the worktop drawer but the elusive blummin spoon!!
Imagine our dismay.
THE END
Chris's Blog 