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A Nice Break (3)Dateline: 18th July, 2004Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny, so I decided that I would not carry around with me the coat I had lugged around for the last two days. Big mistake! But more of that later. The original idea was that we would meet up with Philip Fisher during the morning to start to sort out the BTG Edinburgh Fringe coverage but his day job intervened and he had instead to sample the delights of Watford, so we wandered down to Covent Garden again to relax, taste some more of the excellent (but expensive) wine, have a bite to eat and listen to the buskers. So passed a thoroughly enjoyable morning. The afternoon was to be taken up with another visit to the Royal Court, this time to see Shining City. Then we heard that the Circle and District lines were closed for maintenance work, so we decided to get the tube to Victoria and walk from there. The best laid plans.... First, it started to rain. Well, I'd left the coat, hadn't I, so it was my fault! Then somehow I took the wrong turning and realised we were walking in entirely the wrong direction. The rain got heavier. Nothing for it but to hail a cab and go directly to Sloane Square. Inevitably the rain stopped (!) and the sun came out. Still, it meant we had a little time for a drink in the Royal Court bar and a sit in the sunshine before the play started. What a master of dialogue Conor McPherson is! Actually, he's also a master of silence. A word, something as simple as "and" followed by a pause, conveys so much. The tension mounts slowly but inexorably, fuelled as much by the silences as by the words until the final, shocking dénoument. A collective gasp from the audience ends the play. Wonderful! Then a dash across London to King's Cross (bloody tube!) to pick up the bags, a walk down to the station and we suddenly realise we sill have an hour to spare. Well, what else is there to do but sit in a pub? And this was the only disappointment of the three days. Apart from the fact that the cricket on the television was stopped because of bad light (the Kiwis were hammering the Windies - exciting!), the beer was awful. I like cask beer and always try to sample the local brew. If this example of London Pride is typical, London has nothing to be proud of. A gnat giving that as a sample would be rushed straight to hospital! Then onto the train - less than half full with only half a dozen of us in the smoking coach - and home by eleven. And I left checking my email till the Sunday afternoon - I slept through the morning! Articles Indices:
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