![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Jul. 26th, 2021 10:27 pmThursday evening went to see The Villagers, our wonderful local open air amateur Shakespeare company. Carol Hicks, a mainstay of the company and a dear friend of mine, was on the front of house table. She was delighted to see me wearing my Villagers 30th anniversary polo shirt - she insisted on us just making distanced air kisses at each other though.
With the virus, they'd been unable to rehearse a complete play as normal, but, as Ian Wright the narrator explained at the beginning, they were mad keen to put on a show of some kind after being unable to do one last year. So they gave us 'Shakespeare On Love', a selection of scenes from a number of plays dealing with various aspects of love. Ian explained that one member of the cast had had to drop out after being pinged while another had suffered a sporting injury at the weekend, so other members of the company were filling in their parts at short notice.
The show opened with the assigning parts for Pyramus and Thisbe scene from A Midsummer Night's Dream. Rob Spraggs was brilliant as Bottom, playing it to full comedic effect. Carol Hicks and another good friend of mine, Mark Wright, were fantastic as Romeo and Juliet in the balcony scene, infusing it with wit.
Emily Wright had had to step into the role of Lady Mortimer in Henry IV Part I at short notice but gave a great performance of her Welsh song. The two scenes from Much Ado About Nothing where Benedick's and Beatrice's friends gossip, knowing that the said parties respectively are eavesdropping in a bush, were lots of fun, with Mark Wright again excellent as Benedick.
Stopped for a chat with Carol and Mark backstage during the interval, on my way to the refreshment cottage.
Sarah MacKinnon was very good as Miranda in her introductory scene with Prospero from The Tempest. Ian then explained that he'd had to step in as Falstaff, who was to have been played by the chap with the sporting injury, and two of the ladies of the company came forward with cushions to pad out his costume, introducing the scene from The Merry Wives of Windsor which ended with Master Ford (a vigorous Rob Spraggs again) chasing Falstaff off with a stick.
Sarah MacKinnon and James Doyle both gave impassioned performances in Richard III's rough wooing of Lady Anne during Henry VI's funeral procession. The evening ended with the scene from A Midsummer Night's Dream where the players perform Pyramus and Thisbe before the Duke and Duchess. James Doyle as Flute/Thisbe gave his performance the full comic treatment. Superb, but he corpsed during Thisbe's climactic death scene, and Ian (Theseus) told Sharon Dewar (Hippolyta) "Don't say your next line or he'll never recover". Of course everyone just laughed along.
Travelled up to Nottingham after work on Friday for Trent Rockets' Hundred cricket match with Southern Brave the following day, where I was due to meet Jill and Steph. The train I was booked on from Portsmouth Harbour to London Victoria was cancelled 'due to vandalism on the train'; the first person on the station staff I talked to didn't seem to know what to advise me so his colleague directed me to the ticket office, where George was on duty. He said to take the following train, half an hour later, to Waterloo - "you'll still have time to get across London".
We were a few minutes late getting into Waterloo, and by the time I'd got the tube to St Pancras I had to sprint across the concourse to make it onto my booked Nottingham train less than a minute before boarding ended. So when I arrived at Nottingham around 7pm I hadn't eaten since lunchtime.
It was nostalgic walking up the pedestrianised part of Station Street towards my hotel, a path I know well from Lady Pies days. I got checked in - my room was on the 11th floor - and just had time to pop out for some fried chicken and get back to the room for Top of the Pops 1991. After that came a very interesting programme about Amy Winehouse, Reclaiming Amy. I've always been a fan, it was fascinating to hear the perspectives of her family and friends. A wonderful lady with the voice of an angel, she deserves far better than to be remembered as an addict.
Saturday morning I walked along London Road and past the Notts County ground. The number of times I trod *that* path buzzing with excitement and hope *sigh* I followed the crowds, on across the Trent and past Nottingham Forest's ground to Trent Bridge. With minutes to go till the game started, I was walking around the stand looking for Jill and Steph when they called out to me and I went up to join them in the top row of the stand. We kissed and hugged, and I mentioned that we were finally meeting on British soil. They introduced me to Phil and Claire, a couple who were friends of theirs.
We watched an exciting game, Jill and Steph waxed lyrical about their favourite players - Jill loves Katherine Brunt, Steph loves Anya Shrubsole who was playing for Southern Brave, though she also seemed rather fond of Brave's Stafanie Taylor. Jill got a couple of photos of Lucy Higham that she messaged to Jules, who kept in touch with the girls on WhatsApp throughout the game. Jill treated me to a berry cider between innings. We had moments of excitement when Natalie Sciver and Katherine Brunt were batting together but when they both threw away their wickets in quick succession defeat was inevitable.
The girls decided to stay on for the men's game. I went to queue, at first for the Burgers and Fries van under our stand, then after I'd been in that queue for centuries I noticed people walking about with fried chicken and chips. So I went for a walk in search of chicken and, finally, found the Leg Before Fillet van right on the opposite side of the ground. And the queue there was a mile long, but I wasn't going to miss out. Eventually I reached the front and got my chicken and sour cream wrap and curly fries. By the time I made my way back to the stand, the men's game was ten balls old and the seat I'd been in by the girls had gone (my actual booked seat was elsewhere), in fact the stand was suddenly full, but Steph pointed to an empty seat right in front of her. I sat only partly paying attention; for me the main event had been and gone.
The men's match ended, we made our way out of the ground. Outside the Trent Bridge Inn we met a sizeable crowd singing Sweet Caroline; I joined in, prompting Jill to say "Don't you start!" We walked along, back across the river to the city centre, scouted around for a pub that didn't look too full and settled on the Canalhouse Bar, where I'd gone for post-match drinks with Jules, Rachel and Co on my last visit to Nottingham back in October 2018. Joy, they still served a wide range of Belgian Trappist beer. Jill got the first round in and I went for a St Bernardus Abt 12. I told her and Steph this was the 14% beer Jules and I had gone straight onto on our first night in Leuven. "You'll be under the table then," Steph said.
We all sat and chatted about women's cricket, women's football and theatre - Phil said how he, Claire and Steph go to a Christmas musical show every year. The audience join in, divided into groups, with 12 Days of Christmas complete with actions; Phil said they always try and book seats that they think will be in the 'partridge in a pear tree' section.
Jill persuaded me to join them in their home town Leicester when England Women play New Zealand there in September. "It'll be unreserved seating at Grace Road." Another discussion of our sporting crushes had me confessing to being fond of the White Ferns' Amy Satterthwaite. "But is she old enough for me?" I mused, and keyed her into Google, on tenterhooks much to Jill's amusement. Her date of birth and age appeared on the screen.
"34. YES!" I punched the air.
Jill laughed. "See, you've got to come now."
Steph checked the train times and established that they wouldn't make the station in time for the train leaving in 11 minutes' time and that the next one was over an hour away. So we stayed on for another beer.
We walked up to the station and said our goodbyes, I made my way back to the hotel and spent the evening watching Olympic highlights in a cider and Trappist ale induced haze.
Yesterday I travelled home, via Birmingham New Street so naturally had to visit Five Guys for a burger, fries and a peanut butter shake. My train from Southampton to Portsmouth Harbour was cancelled 'due to lack of train crew' so I had to sit in the waiting room for over half an hour (thankfully listening to online radio on my phone), then the next train to Portsmouth turned out to stop at every single station...
With the virus, they'd been unable to rehearse a complete play as normal, but, as Ian Wright the narrator explained at the beginning, they were mad keen to put on a show of some kind after being unable to do one last year. So they gave us 'Shakespeare On Love', a selection of scenes from a number of plays dealing with various aspects of love. Ian explained that one member of the cast had had to drop out after being pinged while another had suffered a sporting injury at the weekend, so other members of the company were filling in their parts at short notice.
The show opened with the assigning parts for Pyramus and Thisbe scene from A Midsummer Night's Dream. Rob Spraggs was brilliant as Bottom, playing it to full comedic effect. Carol Hicks and another good friend of mine, Mark Wright, were fantastic as Romeo and Juliet in the balcony scene, infusing it with wit.
Emily Wright had had to step into the role of Lady Mortimer in Henry IV Part I at short notice but gave a great performance of her Welsh song. The two scenes from Much Ado About Nothing where Benedick's and Beatrice's friends gossip, knowing that the said parties respectively are eavesdropping in a bush, were lots of fun, with Mark Wright again excellent as Benedick.
Stopped for a chat with Carol and Mark backstage during the interval, on my way to the refreshment cottage.
Sarah MacKinnon was very good as Miranda in her introductory scene with Prospero from The Tempest. Ian then explained that he'd had to step in as Falstaff, who was to have been played by the chap with the sporting injury, and two of the ladies of the company came forward with cushions to pad out his costume, introducing the scene from The Merry Wives of Windsor which ended with Master Ford (a vigorous Rob Spraggs again) chasing Falstaff off with a stick.
Sarah MacKinnon and James Doyle both gave impassioned performances in Richard III's rough wooing of Lady Anne during Henry VI's funeral procession. The evening ended with the scene from A Midsummer Night's Dream where the players perform Pyramus and Thisbe before the Duke and Duchess. James Doyle as Flute/Thisbe gave his performance the full comic treatment. Superb, but he corpsed during Thisbe's climactic death scene, and Ian (Theseus) told Sharon Dewar (Hippolyta) "Don't say your next line or he'll never recover". Of course everyone just laughed along.
Travelled up to Nottingham after work on Friday for Trent Rockets' Hundred cricket match with Southern Brave the following day, where I was due to meet Jill and Steph. The train I was booked on from Portsmouth Harbour to London Victoria was cancelled 'due to vandalism on the train'; the first person on the station staff I talked to didn't seem to know what to advise me so his colleague directed me to the ticket office, where George was on duty. He said to take the following train, half an hour later, to Waterloo - "you'll still have time to get across London".
We were a few minutes late getting into Waterloo, and by the time I'd got the tube to St Pancras I had to sprint across the concourse to make it onto my booked Nottingham train less than a minute before boarding ended. So when I arrived at Nottingham around 7pm I hadn't eaten since lunchtime.
It was nostalgic walking up the pedestrianised part of Station Street towards my hotel, a path I know well from Lady Pies days. I got checked in - my room was on the 11th floor - and just had time to pop out for some fried chicken and get back to the room for Top of the Pops 1991. After that came a very interesting programme about Amy Winehouse, Reclaiming Amy. I've always been a fan, it was fascinating to hear the perspectives of her family and friends. A wonderful lady with the voice of an angel, she deserves far better than to be remembered as an addict.
Saturday morning I walked along London Road and past the Notts County ground. The number of times I trod *that* path buzzing with excitement and hope *sigh* I followed the crowds, on across the Trent and past Nottingham Forest's ground to Trent Bridge. With minutes to go till the game started, I was walking around the stand looking for Jill and Steph when they called out to me and I went up to join them in the top row of the stand. We kissed and hugged, and I mentioned that we were finally meeting on British soil. They introduced me to Phil and Claire, a couple who were friends of theirs.
We watched an exciting game, Jill and Steph waxed lyrical about their favourite players - Jill loves Katherine Brunt, Steph loves Anya Shrubsole who was playing for Southern Brave, though she also seemed rather fond of Brave's Stafanie Taylor. Jill got a couple of photos of Lucy Higham that she messaged to Jules, who kept in touch with the girls on WhatsApp throughout the game. Jill treated me to a berry cider between innings. We had moments of excitement when Natalie Sciver and Katherine Brunt were batting together but when they both threw away their wickets in quick succession defeat was inevitable.
The girls decided to stay on for the men's game. I went to queue, at first for the Burgers and Fries van under our stand, then after I'd been in that queue for centuries I noticed people walking about with fried chicken and chips. So I went for a walk in search of chicken and, finally, found the Leg Before Fillet van right on the opposite side of the ground. And the queue there was a mile long, but I wasn't going to miss out. Eventually I reached the front and got my chicken and sour cream wrap and curly fries. By the time I made my way back to the stand, the men's game was ten balls old and the seat I'd been in by the girls had gone (my actual booked seat was elsewhere), in fact the stand was suddenly full, but Steph pointed to an empty seat right in front of her. I sat only partly paying attention; for me the main event had been and gone.
The men's match ended, we made our way out of the ground. Outside the Trent Bridge Inn we met a sizeable crowd singing Sweet Caroline; I joined in, prompting Jill to say "Don't you start!" We walked along, back across the river to the city centre, scouted around for a pub that didn't look too full and settled on the Canalhouse Bar, where I'd gone for post-match drinks with Jules, Rachel and Co on my last visit to Nottingham back in October 2018. Joy, they still served a wide range of Belgian Trappist beer. Jill got the first round in and I went for a St Bernardus Abt 12. I told her and Steph this was the 14% beer Jules and I had gone straight onto on our first night in Leuven. "You'll be under the table then," Steph said.
We all sat and chatted about women's cricket, women's football and theatre - Phil said how he, Claire and Steph go to a Christmas musical show every year. The audience join in, divided into groups, with 12 Days of Christmas complete with actions; Phil said they always try and book seats that they think will be in the 'partridge in a pear tree' section.
Jill persuaded me to join them in their home town Leicester when England Women play New Zealand there in September. "It'll be unreserved seating at Grace Road." Another discussion of our sporting crushes had me confessing to being fond of the White Ferns' Amy Satterthwaite. "But is she old enough for me?" I mused, and keyed her into Google, on tenterhooks much to Jill's amusement. Her date of birth and age appeared on the screen.
"34. YES!" I punched the air.
Jill laughed. "See, you've got to come now."
Steph checked the train times and established that they wouldn't make the station in time for the train leaving in 11 minutes' time and that the next one was over an hour away. So we stayed on for another beer.
We walked up to the station and said our goodbyes, I made my way back to the hotel and spent the evening watching Olympic highlights in a cider and Trappist ale induced haze.
Yesterday I travelled home, via Birmingham New Street so naturally had to visit Five Guys for a burger, fries and a peanut butter shake. My train from Southampton to Portsmouth Harbour was cancelled 'due to lack of train crew' so I had to sit in the waiting room for over half an hour (thankfully listening to online radio on my phone), then the next train to Portsmouth turned out to stop at every single station...
