Day 2, dear reader,
It was a pretty good one.
To Hampton Court Palace.
We will begin with the title. It doesn’t take much stream of consciousness to get there: in London, to get anywhere in the “southwest” — e.g. Hampton Court — you go through Waterloo station.
After yesterday I had no hope. And I was right. One had the insight to google Waterloo and found out George’s name — you know, the first Duke of Wellington. They were not up on his innovations in either boots or food. :)
As we came back to Waterloo (for the Tube) from lunch, we passed The Wellington, a pub across the street. I asked “what was his first name again?” Kat (I will name her for this gem} piped right up with “beef!” Barrel roll on the drums.
The trip, other than that, to and from Hampton Court was fine, though a couple of them cannot stop talking!!! 😡 KMN! At the palace we split up, them heading toward Henry’s kitchen and me to the Restoration restoration. There are free digital guides, so they were good. I told them to make sure they saw the gardens, which are quite well done. INterestingly, they only date from WW1 because William and Mary’s successors didn’t want the expenditure to keep up the of the manicured garden. There was some lengthy note about replacing box bushes (which purportedly smell) with yew trees, but I don’t know. Here’s the palace from the big south garden — this is the George the 3rd side (you all recognize that name).
Have I mentioned herding cats? OC this is true (in my experience) of most groups. No one wants to make a decision. As we left the palace, around 1230, I asked if they wanted lunch before we got on the train: there were several options across the street from the station (pizza? Pasta? Mediterranean ?). Uh uh uh. We went on. They stopped at the ice cream truck near the exit, but said “nah, we’re going to eat lunch.”
Then we stood in the middle of Waterloo RR station trying to figure out where we were going. I pointed out there were lots of options there — and restaurants circling the station. One suggested Mediterranean and crickets. I said someone was going to have to make a choice and was told by the suggester that clearly Mediterranean was out, since no one said yes. I guess that’s a way to take it and no one disagreed. I suggested Nando’s, which has been much talked about. They jumped on that. There was one .2 miles from where we stood, according to the lying f***ers at Google maps.
But we got there. And everyone ordered their own. And probably rightly. Funny thing (almost all of you will LFAO at this) *I* was the one with the most heat on their chicken!!! All but one went for the “less than mild” lemon herb!!!! The one matched me with medium. Usually someone tries at least the hot. Wimpy bunch. Here’s your Nando’s porn (for those of you who don’t know, it is Portuguese peri peri chicken — usually has a kick) and you get some unusual sides.
And now for today’s play: Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Globe.
As some of you will recognize, I have seen this play quadzillion times (without exaggeration) because it is not only a summer rep staple, but we used to go annually to the Open Air Theatre in Regent’s Park (they are running something now…which is earlier than they usually start) and they did it almost every year. They had a great mechanical donkey head.
I wanted to see it again both at the Globe, where things are always interesting, and to see one of Shakespeare’s less superficial comedies.
They did a nice job on it. It’s in preview, so there’ve been no reviews. They didn’t do anything to extraordinary (the Open Air for b2b seasons put the couples in Victorian dress), unless you think that the stock modern costuming is extra. The guys were combat style pantaloons and the women wore…pants and something that was puffy.
The big thing was a hammock that came out of the trapdoor and was hauled up to the rafters above the orchestra — it was a big, colorful fish net. Titania slept through some scenes there.
Probably worth noting was the casting of a little person as Hermia, which got a gasp out of the crowd in act 4(ish) when Lysander calls her a dwarf. 😱 It worked also because, obviously, the text makes her out as shorter than Helena and they had them as dark and blonde, as per the play.
They did a good job with the mechanicals, though I think we needed the donkey’s head — the party ears weren’t enough (hee haw).
But they played it pretty straight, with a few gags to enhance the comedy, and they got a good reception from what was an enormous crowd (the pit was near full and there were no visible empty seats).
Story of the night: a couple is in front of me getting their tickets scanned; it’s not working, it’s not working. The docent is perplexed and I guess looked…I didn’t hear the exchange, but the woman said “what a fool I am” and the docent said “maybe try the ticket office to exchange for tonight.” Whoops! 😁
So I end day with this: the drama from the minions (okay, just a couple of them) is palpable and artificial. I’ve already heard “I just don’t like to block people, ever” three times; that blah blah just won’t stop texting; that such and such a person met on such and such an app is maybe not it. Many times. It’s good to be an old.
We go to Stratford-upon-Avon tomorrow to see a play and maybe Shakespear’s homestead (if we have time). I have already been told the “early mornings” (tomorrow is an 840 call) are impinging on their party plans (that you have to hunt to find a place open beyond 11 doesn’t seem to be the point). I feel appropriately chastened. :)
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