and thanks to the Pogues for today's title.
A post-script from yesterday:
A post-script from yesterday:
While I find that I can be intolerant of school groups - I know, my faithful reader this comes as a surprise to you - the disinterested, disrespectful way that they behave in museums and such annoys me greatly. They arrive en masse, swarm like locusts, darkening the sky before them, blocking out all sound, including my audio guide, with their cacophony of giggles, intemperate comments and loud voices. And then they are gone, leaving behind solitude, sunshine and museum patrons that have been decimated like a wheat crop, standing broken against the cabinets and walls. Who'd be a school teacher?
Which brings me to the crux of yesterday's concern. The worst behaved of the school group in the Medicine Man room were not the ignorant, gum-chewing, slang-spewing students - it was their teachers, guffawing at the chastity belt, Japanese sex toys and other phallic objects. I mean really? Grow up. One male teacher was so fascinated by the display he put on one of his own and remained in front of the exhibit as a guard to ensure that all the female teachers saw it. Childish beyond measure. He'll need to feature on The Bachelor to 'pull' as they say over 'ere.
The Night:
We are in a quiet area - by day - at night, however, we are in a strange confluence of evil. The back of our unit, the bedroom, has windows that front onto a vacant space between us and the building in the next street. To complete the rectangle of our block there are buildings down either end - except one end has a drive way that leads underneath the buildings to parking. This is the vortex of evil. Any sound made within the vicinity of this archway echoes through into the rectangle of brick and glass beyond. So when the local empties of beer fogged uni students, their trip home reverberates through our bedroom. Cheers to the lager lads.
The Day:
It dawned as one expects in a stereotypic world - grey and wet. The weather narrowed our plans to meeting with Damian and going to the theatre, any walking and neighbourhood wandering would depend on the weather. We would be heading to the tube to get to Piccadilly Circus which was well within walking distance of the unit. Damian, my dear reader, is one of our surrogate children; he grew up in our neighbourhood and is close frineds with our children and currently resides here in London.
The brief walk to the tube station required the negotiation of many umbrellas and puddles. In the end I gave in and purchased my own brolly at a stall. £5 was money well spent at the time.
A swift tube change at Leicester Square and we were back into the grey and drizzle of Piccadilly Circus and in the middle of a film shoot of some description. We were quite early and sheltered under an awning outside The Sting and watched the filming of, we assume, an ad for The Sting, as we waited for Damo. It was a tough shoot, the actress in question had to pause, look thoughtful and then walk forward. I know, walking and thinking simultaneously. That explains why they were still filming when we left.
Damian arrived and we made for the a nearby pub to sit and catch up and have a few beers, before theatre time. We had booked a matinee. Damian leads a most interesting life and has returned to some level of normality after a time as tour guide in Croatia and then a holiday. I was most interested in hearing about his experiences in Croatia and the other countries he had visited in the area, especially because I'll begin planning our next trip when we get back. We spent a very pleasant afternoon out of the weather enjoying Damian's company. Close to the time we were to pick up our booked tickets to the musical, Damian led us through London's China Town to the theatre where we parted company.
The Theatre:
We had originally hoped to see The Book of Mormon on Broadway but we could not organise tickets that matched our other plans so we decided to book for the West End instead. We had time to visit the theatre bar for a pre-show drink. We were sitting chatting and I looked across the room and saw someone walking towards us. As my brain started to process the 'he looks familiar' pictures, he smiled. It was Paul Dolan who used to work in the Parramatta Diocese. He was seeing the show with his wife this afternoon before boarding a plane home tonight after nine weeks overseas. We have been discussing the fact that surprisingly we have not run into anyone we know so now we can breathe easy - the random meeting has taken place. We enjoyed catching up with Paul and wished him safe travels but then it was time to see the show. The theatre was filled and, as with our seats for Beautiful, we were perfectly placed to see the show about eight rows back and dead centre.
The Book of Mormon is definitely a show we would recommend, but it also a show that needs to be seen twice (at least) to get all the jokes. There was a standing ovation of sorts (it wasn't unamimous) at the conclusion of the show. It was well worth seeing, it was irreverant, it was funny, it had bad language and good jokes, great songs and a healthy sense of irony, but it wasn't deserving of a standing ovation - Beautiful, however was more than deserving.
The Food:
And then, dinner. We were next door to China Town so we thought Chinese was the obvious choice. We walked down one street reading the names of restaurants and then turned into another, doing the same. We had not researched the restaurants so had no idea of what was rated well or otherwise. Using the most scientific of methods, I selected a restaurant called the Golden Dragon. Why, you ask? It is a reference to a children's film, Dot and the Whale. No, that's all you're getting. Find the film and watch it or contact one of our kids and ask them.
Eating Chinese has always presented a problem for us in Great Britain, from the first time in 2003 when the girl serving us asked if we wanted chips, to the waitress who wanted to know why we would want to share our meals when they were big enough for one (she and her colleagues then stood at a distance, marvelling at us dishing up our food to share). So we weren't sure what to expect today. Ordering went well, no issues, food arrived, no questions about sharing, all good. But, like the curious Italian differences we noticed in New York, the same applies to Chinese cuisine. In England (well, at least at the Golden Dragon) the sauces all seemed to have the same signifcant backbone of tomato sauce. Interesting. The food was good and we enjoyed it before our walk home through the wet London streets.
Apologies for the lack of photos my understanding reader, but in a grey, wet day in London I opted not to carry my camera.
The Night:
We are in a quiet area - by day - at night, however, we are in a strange confluence of evil. The back of our unit, the bedroom, has windows that front onto a vacant space between us and the building in the next street. To complete the rectangle of our block there are buildings down either end - except one end has a drive way that leads underneath the buildings to parking. This is the vortex of evil. Any sound made within the vicinity of this archway echoes through into the rectangle of brick and glass beyond. So when the local empties of beer fogged uni students, their trip home reverberates through our bedroom. Cheers to the lager lads.
The Day:
It dawned as one expects in a stereotypic world - grey and wet. The weather narrowed our plans to meeting with Damian and going to the theatre, any walking and neighbourhood wandering would depend on the weather. We would be heading to the tube to get to Piccadilly Circus which was well within walking distance of the unit. Damian, my dear reader, is one of our surrogate children; he grew up in our neighbourhood and is close frineds with our children and currently resides here in London.
The brief walk to the tube station required the negotiation of many umbrellas and puddles. In the end I gave in and purchased my own brolly at a stall. £5 was money well spent at the time.
A swift tube change at Leicester Square and we were back into the grey and drizzle of Piccadilly Circus and in the middle of a film shoot of some description. We were quite early and sheltered under an awning outside The Sting and watched the filming of, we assume, an ad for The Sting, as we waited for Damo. It was a tough shoot, the actress in question had to pause, look thoughtful and then walk forward. I know, walking and thinking simultaneously. That explains why they were still filming when we left.
Damian arrived and we made for the a nearby pub to sit and catch up and have a few beers, before theatre time. We had booked a matinee. Damian leads a most interesting life and has returned to some level of normality after a time as tour guide in Croatia and then a holiday. I was most interested in hearing about his experiences in Croatia and the other countries he had visited in the area, especially because I'll begin planning our next trip when we get back. We spent a very pleasant afternoon out of the weather enjoying Damian's company. Close to the time we were to pick up our booked tickets to the musical, Damian led us through London's China Town to the theatre where we parted company.
The Theatre:
We had originally hoped to see The Book of Mormon on Broadway but we could not organise tickets that matched our other plans so we decided to book for the West End instead. We had time to visit the theatre bar for a pre-show drink. We were sitting chatting and I looked across the room and saw someone walking towards us. As my brain started to process the 'he looks familiar' pictures, he smiled. It was Paul Dolan who used to work in the Parramatta Diocese. He was seeing the show with his wife this afternoon before boarding a plane home tonight after nine weeks overseas. We have been discussing the fact that surprisingly we have not run into anyone we know so now we can breathe easy - the random meeting has taken place. We enjoyed catching up with Paul and wished him safe travels but then it was time to see the show. The theatre was filled and, as with our seats for Beautiful, we were perfectly placed to see the show about eight rows back and dead centre.
The Book of Mormon is definitely a show we would recommend, but it also a show that needs to be seen twice (at least) to get all the jokes. There was a standing ovation of sorts (it wasn't unamimous) at the conclusion of the show. It was well worth seeing, it was irreverant, it was funny, it had bad language and good jokes, great songs and a healthy sense of irony, but it wasn't deserving of a standing ovation - Beautiful, however was more than deserving.
The Food:
And then, dinner. We were next door to China Town so we thought Chinese was the obvious choice. We walked down one street reading the names of restaurants and then turned into another, doing the same. We had not researched the restaurants so had no idea of what was rated well or otherwise. Using the most scientific of methods, I selected a restaurant called the Golden Dragon. Why, you ask? It is a reference to a children's film, Dot and the Whale. No, that's all you're getting. Find the film and watch it or contact one of our kids and ask them.
Eating Chinese has always presented a problem for us in Great Britain, from the first time in 2003 when the girl serving us asked if we wanted chips, to the waitress who wanted to know why we would want to share our meals when they were big enough for one (she and her colleagues then stood at a distance, marvelling at us dishing up our food to share). So we weren't sure what to expect today. Ordering went well, no issues, food arrived, no questions about sharing, all good. But, like the curious Italian differences we noticed in New York, the same applies to Chinese cuisine. In England (well, at least at the Golden Dragon) the sauces all seemed to have the same signifcant backbone of tomato sauce. Interesting. The food was good and we enjoyed it before our walk home through the wet London streets.
Apologies for the lack of photos my understanding reader, but in a grey, wet day in London I opted not to carry my camera.
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