Arcola Theatre

Blazing through July

My June ended with a BBPC Bimonthly Meetup and an hour of poetry performance at the Bangla Book Fair at the Brady Arts Centre in Hanbury Street on Sunday 28th. Our theme was Anti-War Poems and seven poets recited in Bengali, Spanish and English. It was a lively session and we received some positive feedback.

So while there’s some football happening in North and Central America which I am boycotting because I loathe Infantino and FIFA – don’t think I’ll be missing much – I have a feast of cricket to enjoy. And more specifically Womens’ Cricket. I’ve been a big fan of this aspect of cricket fuelled perhaps by the success of my home county Hampshire in various guises as Southern Vipers, Southern Brave and just Hampshire. I was lucky enough to be gifted a signed England Womens team shirt for my 80th birthday which hangs proudly on my office wall, thanks to a request from my son-in-law Chris to Charles Dagnall of the Sky and TMS teams.

So when England made it to the semi final of the ICC Womens’ T20 World Cup 2026, it was off to the Oval on 2 July to see England battle it out with South Africa for a place in Sunday’s Final. I was able to meet up with Chris and a producer friend of his Toby Welch who is exec producing on David Mitchell’s Ludwig. After a fine game of cricket we repaired to the Fentiman Arms to discuss cricket, TV and the world was a better place for our deliberations. England made it to the final and Jo had already booked final tickets many months ago so the whole Addison family set off for Lord’s where England were duly demolished by Australia who are still in a different league despite the odd blip, Sadly no blip today.

Then on Monday it was off to the Royal Court Theatre for The Archduke. Yes that one – “the shot that rang out around the world”. The assassination in Sarajevo that is reputed to have started World War I. Except this fascinating take on the story had a chilling resonance with the exploitation of the young and poor that drives the county lines today. Having previously seen Rajiv Joseph’s Bengal Tiger at the Baghdad Zoo, I wasn’t expecting straight history. With many moments of hilarity it also posed serious questions about recruiting vulnerable people to carry out heinous tasks on your behalf – kamikaze pilots, jihadi martyrs spring to mind – history repeats itself with no regard for morality. The acting was superb through comedy and tragedy but Es Devlin’s set was the theatrical coup of the evening.

More politics on Tuesday with Springwood at Hampstead. This featured the 1939 meeting between King George VI and President Roosevelt to attempt to get the USA to support Britain in the looming Second World War. Robert Lindsay and Gemma Redgrave were POTUS and First Lady with Andrew Havill and Rebecca Knight as Bertie and Elizabeth.

Photograph: Tristram Kenton/The Guardian

It was again very resonant with modern times with Charles III having had to deal with tyrant Trump in the country’s interests. It was Richard Nelson’s third outing with the same material following a 2009 BBC radio play, the 2012 film Hyde Park on Hudson and now Springwood. It’s pretty static in action terms but very lively in mental gymnastics as the two country representatives try to exert pressure – Roosevelt with all the strength, George VI in a weak position of still owing the USA millions from the previous conflict. Robert Lindsay was excellent and Gemma Redgrave matched him but was perhaps a little underwritten.

A gap on Wednesday when a pub lunch trip to the Surrey Hills was cancelled when my oldest schoolfriend called to say he’d tripped awkwardly, broken his ankle and didn’t feel like socialising in a massive ankle boot.

Thursday saw me join Frances at the Donmar Warehouse for certainly the play of the week if not the play of the year. The Guilty by Chloë Moss is based on a Danish film from 2018. It’s getting to be a signature of the Donmar with recent productions Mass, Force Majeure and The Fear of 13 all stage adaptations of films. The Guilty stars Russell Tovey as Joe, a nightime police despatcher, suspended from active duties for reasons that are unclear at the outset. Tovey’s perfomance is outstanding as he struggles to cope with frequent ’emergency’ nuisance callers, real emergencies and his unravelling domestic life. It’s incredibly intense with some relief with humorous moments but the pace of the multiple calls and the several different storylines revealed in just over an hour is astonishing. There’s also a further staggering piece of theatre that I can’t reveal as the show is still running and we were handed a card on exit from the auditorium. It’s sold out but if you can beg or steal a ticket do so. It’s a masterpiece!

After that thrilling night of theatre it’s off to Lord’s again for a unique experience. The first womens’ Test Match is being held at the ground between England and India. Jo and Chris and I were soon joined by BBC Test Match Special statistician Andy Salzman who was enjoying a day off – just watching cricket for his own enjoyment. We saw a good day of proper white-clad cricket with India all out for 285 and England 21 for 1 at the close of play.

*50 England women cricketers gather at Lord’s for the first ever womens test match here*.

The day started with a historic parade of some 50 former England women cricketers among them the 85 year-old Enid Bakewell who, with help, rang the five-minute bell to get this long-overdue moment underway.

We then had to dash back to the Blackheath Halls where as last year’s winners, Soulstice, the band my grandaughter plays in, had to play a set while the judges deliberated on this year’s contestants. It was a rather sad occasion, possibly their last gig as they are all leaving school and going to different places for uni. They were still brilliant – even better actually – and I said I was going to book the O2 for their 20th reunion in 2046 – I might not be there to supervise. You can hear them on SoundCloud here.

On the Saturday, I’m due to pick up Jadwiga in Putney and take us to Garsington Opera to see Gerald Barry’s The Importance of Being Earnest. But in my new car-free state, I first have to go and pick up a hire car. Fortunately there’s a branch of Switch Car Hire in Mottingham – one train stop down the line and a five minute walk from the station. It’s all very efficient and I set off in a manual (how long has that been!) Citroen Captur. with a little time to spare I did a shop for heavy items before returning home getting into my dinner trousers and shirt – too hot for jackets and set off for Stokenchurch via the south circular and Putney. The car went well the trip out of London was dire but the M40 pretty clear and we arrived in good time to catch the vintage Aldershot and District coach (the compoany that used to take me to school all those years ago) down to the walled garden where in a delightful bonus, our friend Susie Stranders was the accompanist for a recital by two of Garsington’s emerging artists. Miro Treharne is a fine mezzo and Matthew Sotillo-Cooke a lyrical tenor. They encompassed classical repertoire and concluded with a dramatised ‘On the street where you live’. The half hour in the garden was a delightful curtain raiser and we had a chance to spend time with Susie which we all enjoyed.

*Miro Treharne, Susie Stranders and Matthew Sotillo-Cooke on the Garsington garden stage.*

Then back up to the opera pavilion for the main event. An opera I didn’t know at all but based on a play I knew very well. Would it desecrate Oscar’s work or celebrate it? Well the core was there – false identity, harridan Lady Bracknell (played by a baritone to good effect!), deception and delusion but not necessarily in the same order as in the Wilde play. There was some fine singing of very demanding parts, some stunning visual effects and a set that was out of its mind. I found the score a little disjointed in the first part but grew into something much more engaging in the second with some fabulous moment of drama, humour and joy. And hats off to conductor Douglas Boyd being mugged across the stage to get to the podium. Really entering into the production! Both Jadwiga and I really enjoyed it with a caveat on her part that it shouldn’t be called ‘opera’ there ought to be another category for this kind of event. I disagreed and told her that she was too much of a traditionalist, despite agreeing to come and see it and having a good time.

*Earnest stage at Garsington Photo: Richard Hubert Smith Garsington Opera*

Music of a very different kind on my actual birthday. With no knowledge of the coming event. I joined Shamim at the Brady Arts Centre for a performance of Nakshi Kanthar Math a dance drama which translates as The Field of the Embroidered Quilt. With projected video, dramatic acting and fine traditional dancing it told the story of a couple separated by a family feud. He, Rupai, travels widely for work, she Saju embroiders the quilt Nakshi Kantha until he returns. Except she dies before he returns and all he finds is the quilt covering her burial site. Echoes of Penelope and Odysseus, Romeo and Juliet were there showing that some stories are universal whatever the language. Shamim and I then went for a lovely birthday dinner, during which admittedly a little work was done preparing for a BBPC project funding bid to the British Council. It entailed quite a few Zoom meetings during the next week. We’ll know in October but it might entail a trip to Dhaka.

Despite the busy week I did find time for a very pleasant lunch at the Union Club with Mike and Joan Addison, Chris’s parents. We hadn’t caught up for a while so grandchildren, opera and cricket were discussed along with worries about us sometimes feeling young amongst audiences at musical events. Where will the future audiences come from?

Well there was no chance of feeling young at my last cultural trip of July. Another of Garsington’s emerging artists this summer was my friend Kristina Ammattil. She was appearing at the Arcola Theatre in Dalston in a double bill called Murder Games. The first half was Cupboard Love a 1950s comic opera by British composer Madeleine Dring with a libretto by D.F. Aitken – well a farce really involving some superb ‘dead body’ acting from Ellie Westbrook. After the interval we were treated to Three Sisters who are not Sisters another short comic opera by American composer Ned Roram with a text by Gertrude Stein. Lots of dashing about and lying dead surrounded by chalk body outlines. Both were written for chamber performance with piano accompaniment which was provided by the music director of the producers Opera Makers Panaretos Kyriatzidis. I found the music in Ned Roram’s piece more interesting and the performances of all the singers was remarkable. Annoyingly they didn’t do a curtain call bow towards my seat so Kristina is distant second from left in red stripey stockings. However the programme had a fine photo of the three sisters Salome Siu, Kristina and Ellie. And we did a selfie to send to my friend and her boyfriend Luka.

We were able to share a drink in the bar – with the benefit of performers’ discount coupons! As well as the cast I was able to talk to Tricia Ninian who I met at St Paul’s Opera gala back in March and engage in a – probably boring for him – lengthy discussion about directing for stage and screen and the differences between them, with the director of this show Jonny Danciger. It was another outing where I didn’t really know what to expect when I set off but ended up having a great night out and meeting some talented and lovely people.

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The kids are alright …

So I get a glimpse of a possible future as we go to see Care at the Young Vic. It’s a harrowing watch, featuring life in a care home for elderly and dementia-affected people. Alexander Zeldin’s play and his own direction of it pull you right into the care home where the brilliant Joan played by Linda Bassett is convinced her daughter Lynn – Rosie Cavaliero – and her grandson have come to take her home.

The confusion of dementia, the emptiness of the days, the loneliness while always being surrounded by others are all poignantly present in the script which has a few moments of humour and one of agonising pathos as one resident mistakes another for his late wife and they hug. As characters die off they join us in the auditorium enhancing the sense of our involvement. The final scenes are horrendously powerful and reinforced my support for the Assited Dying Bill – please get it through!

At the other end of the mortal scale, there were some 80 primary school students, 50 secondary students alongside the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment for its annual community opera Life of the Sea. I was invited as a friend to attend the rehearsal and had also booked for the show in the evening. Devised by Hazel Gould, it takes the form of a TV chat show with young performers as guests. These include young musicians and dancers, a rock band and string players in various stages of school who form the Fiddlers on the Reef. The final guest is an adventurer who had discovered a new island in the Pacific Ocean. This of course transpires to be the vast area of accumulated plastics which we dump all the time and subtly delivered ecological messages are delivered. Given the maritime theme there was Purcell and Handel mixed with sea shanties and sequences written by James Redwood – a regular collaborator alongside writer Hazel with OAE’s Education Director Cherry Forbes. I’d really like all politicians who support cuts to the arts to be made to come and see shows like this as the depth of talent on show, the confidence-building association with professional actors and musicians and the sheer joy of artictic collaboration need to be appreciated by those holding the purse strings. A big thank you to all the kind people who donated time and money to ensure that activities like this can so enhance young peoples’ lives. With adequate resources and places to gather the kids are alright.

Next up were a couple of dining outings – the City Orns first Thursday meeting was small with just Fran, Richard and me at Fish! in Borough Market. On the way (ish) I popped into Yoshino to pick up my next supply of gyokuro from Lisa and had the opportunity to admire Bansky’s brilliant installation in Waterloo Place. How they did it is miraculous and I like this shot with the gilded statue representing the pinnacle of the establishment on the Atheneum Club in the background – shame they couldn’t clear the scaffolding away for me.

During dinner Richard – Surrey cricket member asked if I’d like to go to see Hampshire – my team – at the Oval on Monday. I said that would be lovely and should we go on afterwards to see Glengarry Glenross at the Old Vic after the match. Tickets booked and a pleasant evening ensued with a nightcap in Brindisa Tapas round the corner. Friday lunch at the Union Club – very non-establishment with friends Dede, Yvonne and Gwyn has been known to go on until rather late. Indeed as we left at six, there was an “Are you still here?” enquiry from reception. We had been enjoying their lovely roof terrace so away from the main areas. This was a very responsible visit for us – we must be getting old.

The Oval visit was a washout – Richard never made it at all and I saw 18 overs of cricket amid the rain delays. The weather ensured that the game ended as a draw which I’ll take as this has not been a great start to Hampshire’s season. I met Richard in the backstage bar at the Old Vic and then we went to see Glengarry Glenross. I had seen a version at the NT in 1983 and at the Playhouse in 2017. I like the play for its rapid fire dialogue among unscrupulous estate agents vying for a prize Cadillac, a set of steak knives or the sack depending on their position on the monthly deal closures board. For this revival director Patrick Marber had chosen to go with an all female cast with Indira Varma and Rosa Salazar as the leads.

I found it initially odd that they didn’t change the characters’ genders but followed the text to the letter. Soon it didn’t matter as the drama of backstabbing, conning and horsetrading, burglary and deceit just took over as it had before. It was done in the round as is all of this Old Vic season and it worked well in the office scene but the opening in the Chinese restaurant was a bit sketchy with a couple of hanging lanterns suggesting the space. It occasionally got a bit shouty but in all it was another very enjoyable encounter with a very fine play.

The next day I was at another rehearsal with the OAE – this time a very special one. Sir Simon Rattle had been one of the earliest supporters of the orchestra back in 1986 and when invited back to play in the 40th anniverary season he accepted immediately and elected to play two Berlioz works – the well-known Symphonie Fantastique and the equally brilliant but less performed Harold in Italy. The rehearsal took place in the Henry Wood Hall – previously Trinity Church until the 1960s and now a favourite space for several orchestras on account of its brilliant accoustic. They were working on Harold in Italy while I was there with the viola soloist Timothy Ridout walking around the space visiting various sections of the orchestra as he played the featured viola parts. It was fascinating to hear the interchange between various members and the conductor about stress and pace, intensity and melody. It seems all conductors demonstrate their wishes through dum de dah vocalisation – most mellifluous! On the way back I was struck by the juxtaposition of the spire of Dickens’ church St George the Martyr from 1122 and the Shard from 2012 both fine pieces of architecture gracing the area 900 years apart.

At a pre-concert talk some of the players shared their delight about playing not just ‘historically informed’ but actually on period instruments. For the baroque and classical periods they have to use excellently crafted copies of period instruments since the real ones would have disintegrated. Tonight they were playing on instruments made at the time Berlioz was writing in 1830. Their excitment was palpable.The concert itself was a huge success. In the first part with Harold in Italy Timothy Ridout with his viola approached the stage from the auditorium, as in rehearsal visited most sections of the orchestra and concluded the piece from a box. He gave a sensitive performance with clear tone and wonderful variations to match the mood of Harold’s adventures through the Italian landscape. The Symphonie Fantastique was a revelation with such clarity from the period instruments and varied dynamics in Simon Rattle’s energetic direction. The talk had suggested things to look out for and it did enhance the experience. Brilliant music performed by expert musicians conducted by a genius they are pleased to call a friend of the OAE.

Focusing on events in the Iran-Iraq war of the 1980s Under the shadow at the Almeida is an all too timely reminder of the effects of repressive regimes on women and of life under war conditions. With her husband off at the front, Shideh, played wonderfully by Leila Farzad, is left in her Tehran apartment with her daughter and possibly a malevolent spirit or djinn. Forbidden from continuing her studies to be a doctor because of prior political activism, Shideh is frustrated by her enforced domesticity and becomes increasingly disturbed by physical and psychological damage.

Adapted from Babak Anvari’s 2016 horror film which I had not seen, it was a thought-provoking evening with some very dramatic effects and some fine performances. Especially affecting were the rush to the air raid shelter where all the cast gather below the front of the stage and discuss their fears. And there’s one amazing coup de theatre which I won’t spoil.

The next outing was of a rather different nature. As a patron of the Orange tree Theatre in Richmond, Frances was invited to a sponsors’ dinner in the neighbouring Italian before a performance of Peter Shaffer’s Black Comedy. The meal was tasty and enlivened with theatre chat from various guests. The play is a hilarious farce. What a contrast to the psychological thriller that was Equus! In a brilliant piece of staging alternate scenes are set in pitch blackness representing times when the room was lit and bright lighting when powercuts had reduced the room to darkness. The actors coped brilliantly with this trope delivering witty lines in the dark and bumping into each other in the light. The central plot of a sculptor ‘borrowing’ a neighbour’s furniture to impress a dealer provided lots of fun and some snappy characterisation.

The Courtauld Gallery has an exhibition of Hepworth in Colour. A few years back I had enjoyed a visit to the eponymous gallery in Wakefield. Some of the works displayed in London were on loan from there but, shown in a different contex, took on a new resonance. A number of sculptural works were surrounded by lots of drawings and sketches which I was not familiar with and they gave insights into her approach to colour. In one sphere with panels in yellow, red and black she displayed a surprising side of her as a Watford fan! More common were the pale blues of the sea in Cornwall where she lived most of her life and some elegant painted columns and forms in painted plaster and bronze.

Just across the courtyard of Somerset House is the blockbuster exhibition of M C Escher, the first comprehensive showing of his work in the UK. I thought I’d better go while I was here. And comprehensive it truly is with over 150 works on display alongside artifacts he used to achieve his trademark tessellations, repetitative patterns and the impossible drawings for which he is mostly famed. It’s very interactive with infinity mirror rooms, scale-distorting rooms and spheres which you hold to view yourself in a very different way. I hadn’t realised how much he had been influenced by the patterns in Arabic art he’d seen on a trip to Spain. I was particularly taken by an etching of the Cordoba mosque with its eerie Semana Santa nazareno-hooded figures and it was interesting to see the famous ‘Relativity’ in the original lithograph form and as an animated screen version.

My friend Graham was down from Bradford and we agreed to meet up in the Black Eel in Dalston for a beer and then go to see Quartet in Autumn at the Arcola theatre. This also entailed a short visit to the excellent Five Fingers for a curry on the way to the theatre. I think this was my fourth or fifth visit and the food never disappoints and service is always interesting. Barbara Pym’s novel enjoyed a vogue in the 70s and has now been adapted for the stage by Samantha Harvey whose Orbital won the Booker prize in 2024. As a thirty-something the four bickering, miscommunicating fogeys on the verge of retirement seemed a long way off. Now not so much!

The humour of Pym’s writing has been retained in the adaptation and the characters each have opportunities to explain their lives of disappointment, underachievement and give rein to their hopes and fears. Four actors sitting talking often with their backs to you is not an easy setting to manage but the experience of Dominic Dromgoole as director and of his four excellent actors makes this an evening of entertainment and emotional engagment.

I think I’ve mentioned before Gitabina, the Bengali musical group curated by my friend Rumy Haque. They had a concert in memory of Rabindranath Tagore at the Brady Arts and Community Centre in Whitechapel on Saturday. I went along with my BBPC colleagues Shamim and Samaha and got a brief hero’s welcome as I had just consulted Cricinfo to see that the Tigresses (Bangladesh Women) had soundly defeated Pakistan Women in the T20 Womens World Cup. Given the political history of the two nations this victory was especially sweet. I met several friends and acquaintances and then went into the main hall for the concert which combined singing with recitations of Tagore’s works. Rumy had helpfully provided translations for several of the songs and the readings were delivered so powerfully that detailed understanding was not required to appreciate the content of the core messages. Another interesting facet was the real time painting of portraits of Tagore in his youth and as an elderly statesman. Like being at Sky’s Portrait Artist of the Year with added music. An enjoyable evening out with a difference.

I set off early for the Henry Wood Hall for another OAE rehearsal. It’s hot and when I arrive at Lee Station there’s a train on the platform and a stream of would-be passengers coming towards me. “No trains from Lee for several hours,” says one so I join the downward flow and get a bus to Lewisham and then a train to London Bridge and walk to the hall in good time for a susprise opening. Conductor Maxim Emelyanychev calls the rehearsal to order and the strains of Happy Birthday ring out. This was a special treat for Rebecca Bell a violinist celebrating her’s today. As before, observing the conductor explain his wishes to the band was fascinating. Lots of da, da, dums and jumping in the air for “more emphasis here”. The concert of Brahms, Dvorak and Hadyn tomorrow looks like being another real treat. Just a block from Trinity Church Square is Great Dover Street along which runs the 21 bus with its destination panel saying ‘Lewisham Shopping Centre’ so no hassle with trains on the way back and a short walk to the blessed 273 to get me home relatively unaffected by the 35 degree heatwave which looks set to continue. I was glad of my gamcha from Dhaka – a scarf of quick wicking cotton that keeps the sweatiest Englishman in the world – me – from the ravages of the midday sun.

And so to the concert itself. Billed as Brahms’ Last Concert, the programme replicated the concert from 7 March 1897 in Vienna, the last time that Brahms heard his own music performed as he died just a month later. Starting with the massive fourth symphony was completely counter-intuitive to a modern concert going audience – but it worked as it filled the first half of the evening with all the emotions. Joyful dance, slow intensity and a mournful brooding final section with perhaps a hint of hope make this a very emotional ride. In the second half Steven Isserlis played Dvorak’s cello concerto with flair and passion – at the pre-concert talk he said he played the first movement on a record obsessively at the age of ten and still loves it today. It showed. The Haydn symphony gave the evening a lively conclusion with its dance beats and final headlong rush across the fields in pursuit of who knows what. Whatever it is, it gave the work its nickname of The Hunt – the final movement is actually called La Chasse on the manuscript. It was a fitting conclusion to the first half of OAE’s 40th anniversary season which they take up again in October at the Southbank after stints at Glyndbourne and the Proms.

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Cultural continuum

My first outing in April was to an event in the Whitechapel Gallery called Threading Words. The poetry group of which I’m a trustee has some connections with the organisers Babel’s Blessing. This charity arrnages language tuition in many tongues for recent immigrants to help them play an active part in British society. This session was led by a South African-German artist Nomakhwezi Becker who took us through a fascinating couple of hours of self-exploration based on her insights from Xhosa and other African cultures with a modern European gloss. Who knew that the intricate beadwork patterns so much a part of Zulu culture sent explicit messages such as ‘I fancy you’ or ‘Stay away’? I had a chance to chat to Khwezi and the Babel’s organiser Marina Castrillo and hope to see them both at our next BBPC gathering at the end of the month.

Nomakhwezi began by telling us about storytelling traditions which are so important in every culture – the screen reads ‘Once Upon a Time’ – and then asked us to identify things that were important to us in relation to colours, scents, the contents of drawers and handbags, the weather and places. I’m not usually a fan of heart searching in public but found Nomakhwezi’s prompts particularly well chosen so that I and those around me wrote copiously in response. I kept the messages that the session elicited and have found them helpful in planning my days.

Some sensational retelling of a well-known story was taking place at the Royal Court Theatre. John Proctor Is the Villain is a retlling of Arthur Miller’s The Crucible by Kimberly Bellflower She relocates the action to a high school in Georgia where a group of – mostly – adolescent girls discuss the play with personal-inspired insights and some startling revelations. It’s set in the noughties and the young women want to set up a feminist society, I guess on the wave of #Metoo.The club is finally establshed after institutional doubts when the teacher suggests boys should be members too. The members all have clear characteritics – swot, rebel, newcomer, plus an absentee with a backstory of great importance to the subsequent revelations. The young cast – three making professional stage debuts – are outstanding and the denoument is a remarkable piece of modern theatre. Photo below courtesy Royal Court Theatre

It is getting a deserved West End transfer in 2027 when it will run at Wyndham’s Theatre from February through to April. Do go and see it – I’ll be going again. Another of this year’s highlights Arcadia is also transferring from the old Vic to the Duke of York’s in June. Miller and Stoppard are getting lots of exposure right now and rightly so.

Having seen part of the technical rehearsal, it was with interest that I went to Hampstead with Frances to the press night for the revival of Michael Frayn’s Copenhagen. You know you’re getting old when you’ve seen the original version of so many plays being revived now – one marking its fiftieth anniversary! I noticed in the technical and tonight that the three actors were miced up and wore earpieces – a growing trend I’d noticed recently. I am used to presenters with lots of technical script to deliver having it replayed through an earpiece so they can be one-take-wonders. But actors! It was clear that Richard Schiff playing Niels Bohr needed some help as he was very stumbly – some kind audience members later said they found it effective characterisation of the older man. Alex Kingston playing Bohr’s wife Margrethe had a few flufs but brought some much needed warmth to the play while Damien Maloney as Werner Heisenberg performed with German efficiency.

It always was a very wordy and complex play with the central mystery about the reasons for the 1941 meeting between the two former colleagues now on opposite sides in the war. As with a number of productions these days the Trumpian overtones were quite obvious and played up in Michael Longhurst’s direction. The real star of the evening was the set designed by Joanna Scotcher with a water-filled moat surrounding the central revolve and hanging light bulbs feeling like so many atomic particles. They also changed colour to suit the mood – in a series of clever lighting effects.

It was well done and thought-provoking but perhaps not the most enjoyable evening in the theatre. The after party more than made up for that with old friends and new chatting about everything under the sun – and drinking far too much. I was more restrained the next evening when I was able to catch up with my friend Rosa over dinner at the Union Club. Rosa is mostly based in a fabulous apartment in Girona nowadays but had to come back to get her car MOTed and various other chores and catch-ups. It was lovely to see her after quite a time and we put the arts world completely to rights during the evening.

The there was another nostalgia trip to see Teeth ‘n’ Smiles having a fiftieth anniversary revival. I saw the original with Helen Mirren as Maggie Frisby, the alcoholic fading rock star, played in the Duke of York’s Theatre by Rebecca Lucy Taylor who I have to say is a better singer and can act too. Coming from Rotherham her accent was spot on. David Hare’s play still feels very much of its time despite a few updating references. But it brought back happy memories of younger times of carefree excess and thoroughly irresponsible behaviour. The set was suitably shabby and the direction by Daniel Raggett (no relation that we’ve yet discovered) was pacy and engaging. I thoroughly enjoyed the depiction of a disintegrating band with its internecine rivalries and battles. And the original music by Nic and Tony Bicat was enhanced with some new songs from RLT or Self Esteem as she is known professionally.

For some mad reason I decided to go to see Watford play against Oxford United. It’s the dog end of the season where we can’t go up or down so there’s nothing to play for but pride and there was little of that on display as we lost 2-0. This lead to a truly toxic atmosphere at the end of the match with the players standing resolutely suffering piled on of abuse from certain members of the so-called support, who are clearly too young to remember what a state the club has been in at several periods of its existence.

I was pooh-poohed by some members of our party for my decision on arrival at Oxford Station to head off to the Ashmolean Museum rather than heading straight to the pub.

For once I made the right call – they waited 35 minutes for a bus, I was in the museum in 7 minutes. Flower displays adorned the portico presaging the exhibition called In Bloom about the history of gardening, plant hunters and the commercialisation of horticulture. It was excellent, small enough to be done in an hour or so but very informative and containing some beautiful and interesting images and objects.

The exhibition featured early plant specimens lovingly pressed into folio volumes 400 years ago, botanical drawings, portraits of plant hunters and seed gatherers and some of the equipment they used. It didn’t shy away from the horrors brought about by the discovery of the powerful effects of the opium poppy, the mad vogue for the tulip that led to the bubble of 1634 retold in the Tom Stoppard and Deborah Moggach sceenplay for the film Tulip Fever in 2017. There were smell stations to distinguish between black and green tea and to smell burnt poppy seeds and bizarre botanical teaching models. Modern artists were invited to exhibit their reaction to the displays and there were paintings, tapestries and sculptures that extended the scope to the present. Flower displays by Justine Smith made from used banknotes epitomised the dangers of always seeking the new. The sculptures and prints of the Iranian artist Anahita Norouzi were especially striking. Her flower scultures bore significant titles focusing on the colonial exploitation and her prints made in crude oil were a timely reminder of the horrors currently unfolding in the Gulf. I’m very glad I went to see it, particularly as the football was awful and the pub had no real ale.

Romola Garai was nominated for two Oliver supporting actor roles – The Years at the Almeida (won) and Giant at the Royal Court. I reckon she’ll be up for another next time for her amazing performance (leading not supporting) as Nora in the new version of Ibsen’s A Doll’s House by Anya Reiss. It’s in a modern setting but with all the tensions of the original. The Italian rest cure is replaced by a rehab stint in a Portuguese Priory, there are maxed out credit cards and the expected higher levels of income come not from a promotion in the bank but the sale of a company which has nearly but not quite gone through. The stripped down cast leaves the children only heard through a sleep monitor but this probably helps speed up the action. I found it had a very strong link to the original while exploring more modern themes. The absence of children made Nora feel slightly less trapped in her domestic cage than the original and the conclusion was left up in the air with a quick cut to black with everyone on stage rather than a slammed door. Lots to ponder which is a good thing on leaving the theatre. Next year’s supporting actor nomination should go to Thalissa Teixeira who was the most sympathetic character as Kristine and gave a superb portrayal of the impoverished widow and former university friend.

Tom Mothersole (Torvald) , Romola Garai (Nora) Olivier Huband (Petter)

Iphigenia at the Arcola Theatre was again, a modern retelling of the familiar myth interspersed with live footage in various languages from people who had lost children through famine, refugee journeys and other misfortunes. These unwilling sacrifices made the dilemma faced by Agamemnon and Clytemnestra all the more poignant. It was an effective version with some fourth wall breaking moments and a haunting musical accompaniment. The backdrop of sails which turned into waves and the simple set framed some fine performances from Simon Kunz as Agamemnon, Mithra Malex as his daughter and Indra Ove. The modern political scene was never far from your thoughts as Agamemnon was prepared to kill his daughter in order to get wind for his fleet to sail into battle in a distant land in an unwinnable war – until a wooden horse tipped the balance after ten years of slaughter. We never learn anything myth or history it seems.

So it’s off to the Queen Elizabeth Hall for the latest in OAE’s experiments. One of the things I love about the organization is that they are always trying new ways of presenting music. Last year there was the amazing Breaking Bach promoted with among other things, plantable pencils. Mine says it’s sunflower seeds but the seedlings look very like tomatoes to me. At least they germinated! I shared this photo with some of the OAE team online and before the concert and we all eagerly await the next set of leaves and glorious sunflowers to plant out. I’ve promised to document progress.

The concert tonight is Echoes of Hill and Horizon and present music outside OAE’s normal comfort zone. In collaboration with the Southbank Centre and Squidsoup – a specialist lighting company. The blurb promised “an immersive soundscape” and we were treated to bird calls in the foyer recorded at Leith Hill, Place Vaughan Williams’ home, to prepare us for his The Lark Ascending. What shocked on entering the hall was the massive grids with their arrays of tiny lightbulbs. I was glad I had chosen a rear stalls seat as there was one bank of lights above the central walkway behind front stalls punters’ eyelines. What was to come?

House lights dimmed, the orchestra played the opening bars and then Kati Debretzeni’s soaring violin was heard offstage. She emerged and continued to play from various points on the stage before disappearing again at the end. It was an inspired performance all the more effective because it’s the first time she’s ever played it. She explains her approach entertainingly here. The lighting streams showed said lark (oddly in red and white looking more like a Welsh dragon) flitting from side to side and back to front always rising with the thousands of bulbs able to change colour magically – it reminded me of the lights on the Copenhagen set last week. The lighting changes fitted well with the moods of the music – sometimes a bit obvious like the green swathes for Fantasia on Greensleeves – but often enhancing my appreciation of the music. For Vaughan Williams’ Fantasia on a theme of Thomas Tallis the orchestra split in two with some effective antiphonal layered playing in this familiar piece. What mattered most for me about the evening was the Southbank’s Concrete Voids sound system. Each musician had a stand mic beside them and the lightly amplified mix played into the auditorium was astounding. Every note was clear, as you’d expect from this band, but the enveloping effect of the surround sound was for me the highlight of the evening. To hear very familiar repertoire in such a new way was really satisfying and sent me from the hall with a real buzz of delight. Did the lights mean a lot? Probably a bit gimmicky and added only slightly to the pleasure of the music. But the Comncrete Voids system added a lot.

And the next evening there’s another stunning stage debut at the Kiln Theatre. And he’s only playing John Lennon! Noah Ritter was the debuntant alongside the chameleon that is Calam Lynch as Brian Epstein in Tom Wright’s play Please, Please Me. it was insightful, touching on Epstein’s discovery and subsequent management of the Beatles – none of their music was heard because of massive licencing fees, it seems. The one woman in the cast Eleanor Worthington-Cox plays John’s Aunt Mimi as well as Cyn/Cilla John’s first wife and Epstein’s other signing Cilla Black. She was excellent tin all three roles with subtle changes of headgear and wigs. The versatile set wheeled and danced across the stage with the outline of the Cavern Club providing a background. Amit Sharma’s direction allowed space for the play’s themes of Jewishness, illicit homosexuality, addiction and privacy stolen by beatlemania to unfurl in crisp dialogue with many moments of humour amongst the overall gloom thrown by Brian’s death aged 32 two years before homosexuality was made legal un the UK.

Bookending the blog neatly, the last Sunday of alternate months means it’s time to head back to the Whitechapel Gallery for the British Bilingual Poetry Collective’s Bi-monthly Meetup. At the last meeting we’d agreed a theme of Absent Friends as 26 April was the anniversary of one of our member’s father’s death and it was the week when my late wife Dee had her birthday so it seemed a good occasion to remember those no longer with for whatever reasons. Several poignant poems were read and lively discussion ensued as memories were exchanged.

Marina read in Spanish, Shamim in Bengali and I just did English

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‘Twas Valentine’s day in St Alban’s …

So after a busy start to February, its halfway point was marked with a trip to St Alban’s – the first for a long time for me. The occasion was the christening of the extended family’s newest addition Louisa Deeley. I was delighted to note that her middle names were Denise (my late wife) and her great grandmother Rosemary who was there and I was pleased to have a long chat with her over tea. The party decamped to a pub to watch Scotland demolish England in the rugby – large Scottish contingent present. I made my excuses and went to visit my composer friend Dani Howard who conveniently lives opposite the Mayflower pub in the city centre where we had a lovely few beers with her and her partner Sean chatting about all sorts of things musical and other. Dani has a busy schedule ahead with trips to Hong Kong for the premiere of her Cello Concerto to be played by her former mentor about which she’s a bit nervous, several performances of the Saxophone Concerto for Jess Gillam which I heard in Poole last year and concerts in Germany, the Netherlands and three weeks in Florida in October as a “Master-Artist” at the Atlantic Centre for the Arts Residency Programme working with composers, performers and poets.

Then after a fairly quiet week a hectic weekend was upon us. On Friday I went with my friend Hattie to see Pina Bausch’s Tanztheater Wuppertal perform the amazing Sweet Mambo. With a flowing white drape background which sometimes billowed and was sometimes still and occasionally swallowed the dancers, the dance unfolded with a series of scenes in which women seduce and repel men, in which they find some common ground and other in which they have a laugh together. The fact that there are three men and six women probably indicates where Pina’s sympathies lie. The sound track is eclectic with classical, ambient, jazz and spoken words. As so often with her confections, it sounds like a mess but somehow it works with a mesmerising beauty. We left the theatre with big smiles on our faces.

Fabulous frocks and flowing drapes in *Sweet Mambo*

The next day promised to be a bit of a scramble with a trip to Watford for football followed by a cross London dash to the Arcola Theatre for a play in the evening. My initial journey was complicated by there being no Metropolitan Line trains to Watford – my usual route when not driving – as it deposits me much closer to the West Herts Sports Club, where we meet for pre-match drinks and chat, than Watford Junction. It was all worthwhile as our new manager – third of this season, 23rd since the Pozzo family bought the club in 2012 – coaxed the team to a 2-0 victory over Derby County. After the match two Overground trains took us via a highly complex platform change at Willesden Junction (thank goodness Fran was with me or I’d have got completely lost). We met up with Farzana in the Arcola bar before watching a highly entertaining one-man show with a Watford connection.

Monstering the Rocketman devised and performed by Henry Naylor was originally at the Edinburgh Festival but the excellent Arcola gave it a worthy London run. It featured the dreadful Kelvin Mckenzie’s vitriolic attack on Elton John, the total lack of facts and evidence for which resulted in the biggest libel suit in history with Elton taking on the might of The Sun and the power of the Murdoch empire. With video clips and garish headline displays Naylor told the full story in a variety of characters in a funny, terrifying and eloquent way. He was one of the lead writers for Spitting Image back in the day and his satirical skills enabled him to skewer McKenzie and cronies in a revealing and most enjoyable 75 minutes. As it was still early we three made our way to the excellent Five Fingers for a fine curry.

Saturday 21 was UNESCO International Mother Language Day so it was appropriate that our British Bilingual Poetry Collective (BBPC) group had our regular meeting on Sunday 22 and could focus on the topic with a group of regulars and two people joining us for the first time. I outlined the origin of the Day which started in Bangladesh when five students were executed for speaking Bengali rather tha Urdu and was observed there ever since. Then the government suggested to UNESCO that it should be global which it has been since 1999. I had asked my friend Shumi to bring her delightful poem Banglish about her experience of growing up bilingually in London, I had sourced a number of others I could read and a lively discussion ensued with contributions with many different experiences. We had a technical task to conclude in which all of us suggested two words which I then wrote up on the flip chart. The session’s ‘homework’ was to write a poem incorporating all the words. Three poems resulted which were not bad at all. If you want to give it a try the words are below. As some of the group were observing the Ramadan fast, we repaired to a local restaurant to enjoy iftar the moment the sun set. The chef did a count down for us and then promptly brought much-needed, by some, food.

It doesn’t stop – Monday was off to Hampstead Theatre for the press night of Bird Grove by Alexi Kaye Campbell. It was a fascinating examination of the trials of a radical young woman Mary Ann Evans fighting a rigid father as well as contemporary mores. This radical young woman later still had to assume a male identity, George Eliot, in order to publish her seven novels and a number of short stories. Ironically she was allowed to publish translations under her own name. The play was rooted in the father daughter dispute and her association with some undesirably left wing friends.

A touch of near-slapstick was introduced through her would-be suitor needing a marriage to secure his inheritance. He was sent off with a flea in his ear. It was interesting with Mr Evans pouring guilt onto his daughter about overreaching their funds to put her in the titular grand house and her steadfast resolve to resist being bullied to church but it stirred up a wish for a play that reached further into her later life and success against the odds. Maybe that’s in the works.

Tuesday was deadline day for BBPC to submit its proposals for the 2026 Season of Bangla Drama. We had discussed these as a group but it fell to me to get them in on time. Then on Wednesday I went to Bedford to have lunch with my friend Jossy who I hadn’t seen for a while. How lucky were we! After the murk and mizzle of the year to date we had a sunny day and could lunch in shirtsleeves on the patio of the Embankment pub (thanks to Pete and Julie Bradshaw for the local knowledge) overlooking the Great Ouse with its scullers, joggers, dog walkers and cyclists. The pub had good food and wine and apparently has rooms. We then strolled back to Bedford Station through a less beautiful part of the town but down by the river all was fine and we had a lively discussion on a wide variety of topics.

The Royal Festival Hall was full on Thursday for the OAE’s concert with Robin Ticciati – music director at Glyndebourne and familiar with the orchestra from its residency there. The programme was Mozart’s last three symphonies, 39, 40 and 41. These are pretty familiar items in the classical repertoire but are not often heard together, so a clever piece of programming. Once again, the conductor’s vision and energy, the orchestra’s use of period appropriate instruments made the works sound really fresh and new. The ‘Jupiter’, probably the most famous, occupied the second half and had atmospheric string playing in counterpoint with lush woodwind and powerful brass. A delight.

The evening was rounded off by the news from the Development Director telling me that the OAE’s sensational Breaking Bach project will have a series of performances in the UK next year and will be visiting the United States as well. Stemming from the orchestra being based in a school this ground breaking (sorry!) production deserves this exposure.

The next Sunday I had a music experience of a very different kind with a trip to an arch under Herne Hill Station to wear my SOULSTICE GRANDAD T-shirt with pride and see the group in which my granddaughter (Daisy but Trixi in the band) plays keyboard and flute and sings. Every time I see them they get better – different set list incorporating original material and covers, tighter arrangements and harmonies and tonight they had a guest saxophonist Sam to add to the exhilarating session amid the smoke machines and lighting of the Off The Cuff venue. (Image below contains stills from a video courtesy of Chris Addison as holding a pint in one hand and my coat in the other I couldn’t get my phone out.)

Two intense family dramas were next on the agenda. Richard Eyre’s adaptation of Strinberg’s Dance of Death at the Orange Tree was unremittingly bleak as a couple try to destroy each other. Updating it to the quarantine era of Spanish flu gave it an added claustrophobia as did the cluttered set. It was an evening to be admired for its production and acting rather than enjoyed. I knew a bit more what to expect the next night at the Young Vic as I had been to the Insight session last month. However the actual production came as quite a surprise. I’d seen the beige leather semi circle that forms a large part of the set previously but the red plush carpet on the floor and walls, the observation window and the fact that the audience reamined under the harshest of house lights as the action began were truly unexpected.

Arthur Miller is all over London at the moment, but Broken Glass is a late play and not often performed. The key element is the lower limb paralysis of Sylvia, played brilliantly by Pearl Chanda, a Brooklyn Jewish woman. After reading and hearing news of the Nazi Kristallnacht pogrom, suddenly her legs won’t work and she’s confined to bed. Attempting to explain this reveals all sorts of marital and family issues which see the characters unravelling before us, including a Dr Hyman played by Alex Waldman whose Freudian practices encourage Sylvia to imagine she’s sleeping with him. It was a demanding watch but made us think about current day issues of genocide to which many turn a blind eye – are we paralysed because there is nothing we can do? Leaving the lights on for much of the play was quite distracting as we were sitting opposite both Sir Lennie Henry and mostly significantly the Guardian theatre critic Arif Akbar. What would those hastily written notes revel in tomorrow’s paper? She’s usually quite a harsh reviewer but gave this four stars.

My grandson Jake, somehow turned 20 on Saturday and had decided that he’d like to go back to Yoshino for his annual birthday dinner. Ever happy to oblige I had words with Maitresse D’ Lisa and she came up with a really excellent menu for us. But before that, I decided to go to the National Gallery to see the Joseph Wright of Derby exhibition. I’d seen some of his paintings a few years ago in Norwich and was fascinated by his use of small and focused light sources. I gather his take on chiaroscuro is called ‘tenebrism’. In most of the paintings apart from the canndle or lamp light there was always a glint of moonlight in the background. As a big fan of printmaking as well as painting it was interesting to see mezzotint versions of his paintings which were obviously the main way of making money from your work at the time. Seeing them alongside each other was enlightening and the fact that one featured an orrery when I was about to meet my physics student Jake added another layer of interest. It’s a small show but well worth a visit. Walking through the other galleries it also remoinded me what a wealth of high class art is at our disposal for free still. I must go more often and revel in the Canalettos and Guardis and Turner v Constable without paying £24 for the privilege at the Tate. Oh and there are some favourite Goya, Velaquez and Murillo canvases I hadn’t seen for a long time – and as they say – so much more.

Philosopher Giving a Lecture on the Orrery

Then to the real business of the day. Anybody who has read previous blogs will know how important Yoshino is in my life. Dee and I first went to the old Yoshino in 2009 or 10 (I wasn’t blogging then or I’d know) when it was in Picadilly Place and came to know Lisa the Maitresse D’ quite well. Since then she’s been on a family outing to see My Neighbour Totoro at the Barbican and came to Glyndebourne with me in 2023 and we went as a family to the soft opening (right) of the new premises in Duke of York Street in April last year – minus Chris filming in Dublin and Daisy who didn’t fancy it, plus Rosa and Frances. So Lisa knows us all too.

However when Jake said he’d like his birthday dinner at Yoshino there was rejoicing in lots of the family with a little trepidation on the part of a slightly picky Daisy. So I asked Lisa to book us in and design a menu for us with alternatives for Daisy. She pulled out all the stops and gave us an absolute feast of taste and texture sensations including making an alcohol free campari for non-drinker Jake. And as she had run out of my ‘usual’ sake – I wonder why – she offered me two options to taste before we settled on an excellent dry alternative. Daisy surprised herself and us by being really adventurous and enjoying things she wouldn’t have looked at – sake included. On a previous visit we’d tried a curry dish and had not been impressed. Lisa brought us a bowl of curry and rice saying it was spice combination number 47. Well this variety certainly hit the spot.This wonderful evening concluded with Lisa and her colleague Naomi bringing Jake a birthday cake of ice cream filled chocolates and soy and matcha mochi swiss roll slices all arranged on a raked zen garden. What a night! What service!

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Rallentando – un poco

So after all those wonderful outings and stimulated by some excellent cultural offerings (see other recent blogs) it’s a week to slow down a bit. Sunday saw me take a train to Southend to attend a volunteers day at The Jazz Centre UK where I’d been invited because the management team thought I might be able to contribute something to their publicity, marketing and social media plans. I think this was based largely on the fact that I designed and maintain the website of legendary tenor saxophone player Alan Skidmore and posted about his recent gig at the Centre. It was a lively series of discussions with lots of ideas being put forward but, as with so many charities, their execution will depend on funding being sought and secured.

The midweek gave me the pleasure of welcoming my friend Anna Blasiak – a Polish writer and translator – to Raggett Towers. We worked together at one of the British Bilingual Poetry Collective’s Translation Circles a couple of years back and became firm friends. Here she is explaining a nuance to Eeshita while I’m looking for the right words to convey it in English. She is one of the twelve poets featured in our anthology Home and Belonging published by Palewell Press last year.

And as well as buying me an excellent thank you breakfast before she left on Thursday, I have an invitation to the launch in Ramsgate in April of the latest book she has written with photographs by her wife Lisa Kalloo. I’m looking forward to that trip and spending more time with this creative and lovely couple. I’ve stayed with them before and exploring this increasinly arty town on the Kent coast is a real delight.

Thursday evening saw me joining Rosa and Hattie, Paola and Harry from the OAE at a Friends’ Outing to see The Score at the Theatre Royal Haymarket. I also met Nuria, a friend of Rosa, who was visiting London from Barcelona. She professed to have little English but we got by and she laughed in all the right places in the play.

And there were plenty of laughs in the story of deeply Christian J S Bach going to the court of deeply militarist Frederick the Great where JS’s son CPE is among the coterie of composers the king had collected around him. Cue high levels of competitiveness and entrenched positions.

Brian Cox’s performance was outstanding – grumpy, serene and authoritarian by turns – and it was good to see him on the stage with his wife, Nicole Ansari Cox ,for the first time since they did Tom Stoppard’s Rock and Roll together in 2006. As well as providing lots of camp melodrama, Oliver Cotton’s play led you to think about patronage, compromise, theology and materialism in a lively production by Trevor Nunn. The scenes where the Mr and Mrs Cox-Bachs were together were very touching.

Friday lunchtime took me to the Arcola Theater in Dalston for a rehearsed reading of a famous modern Japanese play newly translated into English. Multiple award winning Ai Nagai is celebrated in Japan for her plays that focus on social issues and this one is no exception – menopause, relationship breakups, jealousy, ageing and memory all feature. Translated by one of the actors in this reading Meg Kubota, the English version had us all laughing out loud on numerous occasions an sucking our teeth in shock at others. It’s called Women Who Want to Tidy Up and features three schoolfriends who have kept loosely in touch through to their fifties where one of them, Tsunko, has broken up with her much younger boyfriend and is not answering her friends’ calls, So they arrive to find the apartment on which Tsunko had spent a lot of money in a complete hoarder’s mess. Although it was a reading, the stage in my mind’s eye was strewn with black bin bags, cardboard boxes, clothes, newspapers and magazines and half empty food containers. It’s a designer’s delight when it gets the full production which it richly deserves. I hope through the good work of the Japan Foundation it does secure a full London staging – it is very funny and very thought-provoking about stuff. Marie Kondo’s shadow looms over it.