What a difference a week makes, 168 little hours.............
Saw Shaw's St Joan this week. I was first introduced to the play through reading about Kenneth Williams' life as he had played the Dauphin in London at the Arts Theatre in 1954. I have to say the version I saw at the National on Saturday was one of the best pieces of theatre I have ever seen. I wasn't expecting quite so many laughs, and I don't think there was anyone from the Archers in it, but the staging was magnificent in its inventiveness and critical to the motion and atmosphere of the story and most of the acting was within spitting distance of a BAFTA. We mused on why every actor’s TV credits included 'The Bill'. Cast wise that show must be very roomy and extremely well stocked.
Once over, (at 3 hours 15 it was long, but I was in no way conscious of the time passing as the play kept you magically swept from moment to moment and scene to scene) we made initial futile attempts to find the Terrace Cafe. Here on Fridays and Saturdays throughout the summer the National hold 'late lounge'. Basically it is a bar come DJ set - hangin' with the home boys, gettin' down with the choice tunes. There is a bring and share nature with regard to the play list, and I am assured that they'll be happy to mix my 'Remember You're a Womble' with my 'Sorry I'm a Lady' 78's next time I'm there. Let’s really MASH it! But it took us a while to end up on the right staircase on the correct side of the complex at the right level. Several times we could see the whites of the damn things eyes, but it was just out of reach - like an oasis to a stranded Legionnaire or a bottle of cooking sherry through the window of a closed off licence to the thirsty. I thought about scaling the wall at one point when my patience gene ran out of DNA, but as one of my party was a lady, we pooled our orienteering resources and were suitably rewarded 3 minutes later with fine wines and a table outside overlooking some 'performance' art (loved the mime) and the beautiful river.
Earlier that day whilst doubling as a removal man for the 3 ladies of Brockley (good name for a pub actually), and in relation to my blind blog, and not so blind dates, I wondered on the best way to find out as much as possible about people new to your life. There can be such a strong desire to know everything and to want to know it now. I am drawn to this speed quest - I want to know the history, the inside leg measurement, I want a Vulcan mind meld info gathering process stlylee. Z will have required me to acquire a range of basic details anyway. With any prospective chief assistant she asks a range of questions delving here and there, assuming philanthropy and interest, but I know what she actually wants to know.
Q 1. ‘What is his relationship history?’ This could mean has he been out long and or experienced enough in life to be solid partner potential, but it actually means (legal note: I believe it to mean) does he have a history of being prone to casual sex and therefore more likely to be carrying a range of life threatening STIs?
Q2 ‘Are his parents alive/does he have a mother?’ This question aims to ascertain whether or not his mother is laid back about him being gay and or potentially more liberal than her?
But to rush the info gathering process in order to reach a safe place quickly would defeat the purpose and the pleasure of getting to know someone, of opening yourself up whilst looking inside another. To be successful in friendship and in love you have to allow yourself to be vulnerable, not safe. So bring on the scary fun and whilst you’re up pour me another glass of cooking sherry please.
In other news. It was with great sorrow this week that I learnt that some people out there, some of you dear readers are potentially included within this cohort, aren't aware that Ethel Merman ever released a disco album. I would ask you to join with me in taking a moment to think about these people, our thoughts and support will help them. Please pass the following link to anyone you know who falls into this deprived community of afflicted souls.
There's no business like show business.................
Remind me next time to tell you about the night I went to Barbara Streisand's after show party. I don't think she was actually there, but I did see Barbara Knox and Lulu. 'Champagne for Lulu!'- yes I did say it whilst standing behind her.
All the best from the West,
WHGIII xxx
3 comments:
Another entertaining yet very informative entry...G x ;)
When they told me you'd written about exposing yourself I had hoped for more pictures.
So good to hear people are drinking cooking sherry again. We sold it by the bucket load a La Rue's - Hanover Square, Grovesnor, London you know.
On his death bed, dear Libby said to me...........
lovely times, lovely people.
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