The Intrigue podcast feed from BBC Sounds has me absolutely hooked. Loads of different thoughtholes. Perfect for driving when you don’t have passengers.
I ended up with passengers today but they were theatre people so reasonably chilled. I’ve got a pair of sunglasses that double as a hands free kit and earphones. They aren’t bone conduction though, so passengers can hear if I’m listening to stuff and it puts them on edge so I don’t do it unless it’s a brief voice note. Still, the work part of the day was largely squared off by the end of the morning. Then it was just about squaring off details for my impending catsitting jaunt and getting my car close to The Vaudeville.
There’s a restaurant they use as location when they put their scenes in Slow Horses at the Anna Livia. I’m maitre d’hotel in a particular episode there and let myself hope they’d come back there again and use me again. A line here or there in something like that is golden and I had a few and want more. Maybe it’ll come good in a later episode. I drove there knowing the workarounds the crew drivers had found cos I was paying attention, figuring that I would find a spot to leave Bergie in while I go to the theatre. Turns out something is filming there this evening, which made it harder but not impossible for me to find a parking spot. I scrutinised the crew, hoping it wasn’t Slow Horses filming without me. I’m credited as “maitre d’hotel” despite my attempts to charm the writer into making me the regular maitre d and giving me a character name. I’m happy with the credit though, we learn by doing, I didn’t win the close-up and I think I know why. Cos I cared about it. Experience makes wisdom. There’s a skill in letting go. But … yeah, so I parked Bergie up by the scene of a happy learning credit from a few years ago, and now I’m waiting at Embankment barriers to pick up Lou and go for pre theatre dinner. She’s all dressed up. I’m in my driving clothes. Not the chauffeur hat, only special jobs get that. But I’ll be underdressed beside her.
We’re going to Six the Musical. Brian sorted tickets and I know it’s a good night at the theatre. Did some driving for them at one point and ended up having a vivid dream that I was accidentally on stage at the top of the show and had to hide myself in an onstage chest for 80 minutes so the audience didn’t see me.
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Ahhh Six is joyful and ridiculous and full of skill and silly and clever and sassy. I’d forgotten quite how tight it is. No wonder it just runs and runs. No dead space, they’ve kept it sharp, it’s how it works. You never want time to think on a show like that. Everyone in the theatre was up on their feet at curtain call. We had the best seats in the house for free and fuck it, sometimes it’s not what you know it’s who you know. I’ve given enough time to the production in tiny ways behind the scenes that this little gift of seats and this chance to see a new cast felt glorious. Lou and I loved it. I could sit on my arse and enjoy it for the fun it brings and I bet Lou was digging the costumes almost as much as the voices. She loves good costume and has a better ear than me for singing voices after all Opera. It’s a sharp game, brilliantly leveraging something a whole generation and more learnt before they can even remember learning it. Divorced Beheaded Died Divorced Beheaded Survived.
How the hell can we make a musical out of “The Square on the Hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares on the other two sides?” With Bertie Carvel as the squire on the hippopotamus… nah. BOMDAS the musical?
It’s a once in a lifetime shot. They took it. They hit.
AlBarclay 