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To London this afternoon to lay flowers for Sarah. Train journey OK. Got six lovely red roses from Isle of Flowers on Victoria Station.
As I neared the entry gate to the Underground one of the tube staff, spotting my roses, said “She’s a lucky lady.” If only you knew, mate… But, in a way, she was.
Every year I’ve always just laid my flowers outside, stood on the steps reflecting, and left, never sure if the theatre staff noticed. This time I went through the doors and asked the front of house girls if the auditorium was open, thinking it’d be nice to see Sarah’s memorial plaque. But the girls said the auditorium wasn’t open.
I went outside. After a couple of attempts to get the flowers to stand up were foiled by the wind, I laid them down just to the side of the doors, and stood on the steps for a couple of minutes reminiscing about my two encounters with Sarah.
I went round the corner to the door leading to the bar, and ordered a Coal Drop Stout. There was a framed poster from last year’s production of 4.48 Psychosis. I stood at the high table facing the poster, raised my glass “Here’s to you, Sarah”, and drank, occasionally softly saying a line from Crave. Two ladies were sitting at nearby tables, doing some work with papers or notebooks. I wasn’t sure if they noticed me or not, but they seemed unfazed.
Back to Victoria for something to eat. Train journey home, listening to songs that remind me of Sarah, and to an album by one of her favourite bands Cake.
As I neared the entry gate to the Underground one of the tube staff, spotting my roses, said “She’s a lucky lady.” If only you knew, mate… But, in a way, she was.
Every year I’ve always just laid my flowers outside, stood on the steps reflecting, and left, never sure if the theatre staff noticed. This time I went through the doors and asked the front of house girls if the auditorium was open, thinking it’d be nice to see Sarah’s memorial plaque. But the girls said the auditorium wasn’t open.
I went outside. After a couple of attempts to get the flowers to stand up were foiled by the wind, I laid them down just to the side of the doors, and stood on the steps for a couple of minutes reminiscing about my two encounters with Sarah.
I went round the corner to the door leading to the bar, and ordered a Coal Drop Stout. There was a framed poster from last year’s production of 4.48 Psychosis. I stood at the high table facing the poster, raised my glass “Here’s to you, Sarah”, and drank, occasionally softly saying a line from Crave. Two ladies were sitting at nearby tables, doing some work with papers or notebooks. I wasn’t sure if they noticed me or not, but they seemed unfazed.
Back to Victoria for something to eat. Train journey home, listening to songs that remind me of Sarah, and to an album by one of her favourite bands Cake.
