When the show (of which, more later-) ended, I waited with a bunch of other fretful folk for an 87 bus. About half an hour passed, nobody knew anything, the usual.There were helecopters, though,and lots of sirens, ambulances, etc. Somebody said the 87s weren't running at all... I began hobbling homewards, nowt else for it. (There were a lot of other tottery old farts around, leaning wearily on their sticks. I hope they had money for taxis. I certainly didn't...) As I toiled down Whitehall, I noticed a small group of drunk people blocking the pavement. One nearly tripped me up with a "Save Our NHS" placard. Hey, I'm on your side, wanker...
Must say, I thank the gods for the outdoor gym, and my NHS gastrectomy. A year and a half ago, I don't know what I would have done, just lay down on the pavement and died, I think. It was bad enough as it was.
The 'quickest ' thing seemed to be to wobble over Westminster Bridge and see if I could get a 77 opposite St Thomas', where,if I collapsed, I'd at least be in the right place. I was buzzed all the way across, by several motherfucking young monkeys, damn them
on 'Boris' bikes and skateboards braying as they whizzed as close as possible. (Graze the Granny!)
Miraculously unscathed, I did eventually get a 77 the rest of the way home. I got in at about 10:30, and never has instant chai latte tasted better.
This is what was going on:
As for MAGIC FLUTE, it was a delightful, quite original production, with some extremely impressive projections. The fire and water trial was stunning, as was the serpent. The orchestra (and unlucky people in the stalls) took active part, Papageno stole the show,as usual, and all in all, it was super. http://www.theatrepeople.com/shows/the-magic-flute?gclid=CIDSyaPZz7oCFY7HtAodSG0AzQ
Oh yes, I have done my daily sketch, but the scanner has gone down. (Heaves weary sigh-) Fuck.