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.
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.
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.
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.
It was a splendid warm week with a few visits to the pool purely to stimulate the thought processes of course. I sat diligently in writer’s corner in the shade and have achieved what I hoped for – enough written down that it has its own momentum now and writing a chapter now and then among other commitments will be OK. If any of it is any good that is,
I left the house and set off eastwards along the A92 autovia, pausing for breakfast near Granada with a fine view of the Sierra Nevada, still living up to their name. I came off at a junction signed Huercal-Overa, the town nearest to my tree but SatNav was not happy as we did some N roads with a few trucks making progress a little slower. I soon arrived and found the original San Francisco deep in the heart of Almeria. We had agreed I’d find my way to 
They’ve made a brilliant fist of sorting the place out and have achieved coveted status as first cold press virgin olive oil with International Olive Council approval which means a lot of tasting by people in Jaen, the capital of olive oil – one might say the Vatican of olive oil such is the mystery that surrounds it. Oh and it’s pretty tasty too like less fatty butter with added sunshine. And of course you’ll live longer.
Thursday brought an absolute downpour and the forecast for Friday was dodgy so I sent a message asking if they want to postpone but we decided to risk it anyway. So I set off in blinding rain with the wipers the only things going fast along the windy road through Villanueva de Algaidas to reach the A45 autovia to Cordoba. All was well and I made it to the very modern station with a huge plaza in front of it in good time. But it seems there’s no short-stay, pick up and drop off parking. However two cars were waiting in a slip road in front of the station which had bollards to stop you entering from the obvious direction. No one seemed to be about so I failed to see a No Entry sign, went in did a three-point turn and was ready to receive Natalie and Graham when their train arrived just five minutes late.
To the south, the banks of the Quadalquivir have been opened up and developed and we took the opportunity of a sunny spell to walk across the Roman bridge, even earlier than the mosque dating from the first century BC and rather spoilt by some later concrete balustrades. Time for a visit to a favourite which Natalie had recommended to Dee and me on our visit in 2010 
mikeandmurakami.com 