No, a mere respectable 10am. (I can hear my mother groaning from here.)
I did some chores about the flat, set the laundry to go, and decided to go find me a play to see.
Also breakfast. I keep forgetting to eat breakfast until I'm halfway to the tube.
Silly Rosemart.
Anyhoo.
To keep all you non-readers interested, I will inject a non-related picture here:
British Museum. Kinda makes a girl want to replicate it...
ANYWAY. Where was I?
Right. Morning. Show.
Went down. Found the theatre playing Matilda. Booked a ticket for next week. Found the theatre playing Singing in the Rain. Booked a ticket for next week.
Wanted to find something to watch that afternoon.
Found the theatre playing Les Mis, but no matinee. BASTARDS. Who only does a matinee two days a week? Really.
Oh. Right. Three hour play. I forget.
The helpful box office fellow at Les Mis gave me a pamphlet with all the shows and all the show times (HOW HAD I NEVER GOTTEN THIS BEFORE) and I noticed War Horse was playing in...forty-five minutes.
It's been having a sold-out run. But I thought I'd try my luck.
I lurked by the box office like some sort of haunt until some fellow popped up with a couple non-returnable tickets his co-worker couldn't use. Hooray! Me and a very nice, very old English man got seats. We also got a deal! The ticket was originally for fifty pounds, but the man sold it to me for thirty. We had ground floor seats, a bit towards the back, but near the center. Much better than I could have afforded on my own.
The show was good. I can see why it was gently mind-fucking everybody. The puppetry was really excellent. I got a bit frustrated with the birds on long poles, because the birds were so tiny and the poles were so huge. The crows landing on the corpses, and the goose in the farmyard were done really well, though. And the horses, naturally.
I got a bit frustrated with the acting. Or maybe it was the writing.
I find that the more people REALLY REALLY REALLY want me to care, the less I do. And the more chest beating they do, the more face palming *I* do.
So there was a bit of scene chewing, but overall, I thought it was a good production. Perhaps I've seen too much theatre to really get my mind blown anymore.
This was the only half-decent photo I took today, since I spent so much of my time inside theatres. (War Horse is THREE HOURS LONG. It didn't really feel like it, except around the middle of the second act when I was beating my forehead against the seat in front of me.)
After that I had to book it down to the National Theatre to meet up with Miriam and David. We had a very nice sushi dinner that was very artfully done, very expensive, and very sparse. (It WAS good, though. Very good quality fishes.)
And then we saw...Travelling Light! Yes, that was it. It had an interested forced perspective stage with a curved cyc. It looked like a pain in the butt to put up and take down (they change plays every five days), and according to the woman who hosted the backstage tour, it very much was.
Travelling Light was pretty good. I found myself getting bored in the second half again, and thinking about yogurt and cheese instead, but then, I might be a bit jaded. Overall I liked it better than Moon on a Rainbow Shawl.
Oh. Travelling Light had a man with THE WORST Bronx accent I have EVER HEARD. Ever. It was somewhere between Bronx and Australian and general bad American. That was hilarious for the first thirty seconds, and then made my ears start to bleed a little bit.
Awful. But otherwise a pretty good play.
And with that noise, I'm going to sleep so maybe I don't sleep in until noon...hmm....
Tomorrow is a tour of the Angels Costumier, some massive costume construction place just outside of London.
Ta!
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