Geriatrix

Ten days or so ago to Wimbledon to see Ian McKellen in a joined up version of Henry IV Part 1 and Henry IV Part 2. An actor who has been treading the boards for long enough for my mother to have once complained of yet another bright young thing being brought on too quickly, of being over-exposed. As advertised and misspelt in the depths of reference 1.

The day started with a large, felled willow on Clay Hill Green, a tree which had had a massive haircut a few years back and which the occupiers of the houses right in the snap above had long moaned about, despite it probably having been there for rather longer than most of the them had been. Maybe they got someone with a chain saw for hire ('tree surgeon') to say that it was diseased.

Down to the station to have trouble with their touch screens, but I got there in the end, despite BH observing that there was a perfectly good ticket office clerk without a queue. Not going to be beaten by a machine. But would the resultant tickets work all the way home again? Track record not very good just presently.

Pleasantly warm on the platform when the breeze dropped, which it did from time to time.

And then, on the train, BH wondered what the running time was, something I had not thought to check before buying the tickets. Between four and five hours. A marathon, which I would never have let myself in for had I known. After all, I had declined the upcoming South Bank six hour version of Götterdämmerung. Not helped, to my mind, by one of the intervals being an hour, quite long enough for one to consume more than enough food and/or drink to send one right off to sleep.

Furthermore, we were paying something far too close to West End prices to abandon ship, even at the interval. But they were good seats.

And then for diversion, at Raynes Park, BH spotted an establishment called 'Three Apes'. I prosed on about the foolishness of running a shop whose business was not made clear either by its appearance or its name. Not that I should talk, given that the titles of my blog posts are a bit erratic as far as information content goes. Inspection this afternoon turns up reference 2 and the place turns out to be a coffee shop run by three O’Riordans, one of whom has a degree in zoology and a masters in primatology conservation. Does she really aspire to life as a presenter on Monkey Life?

Out at Wimbledon to turn our minds to eating after the marathon. The Old Frizzle, last noticed at reference 3, could not accommodate us, despite asking for early evening and despite it being a pretty big place. But the Stage Door, a few doors further along and to be found at reference 4, could.

Not impressed by the number of buckets of popcorn to be seen when we arrived. Not the sort of thing one uses at a Shakespeare - although I suppose the man himself would not have been much bothered, being well used to rowdy audiences, from both court and town.

But we were impressed by the auditorium, which we had remembered as being large and drab, but was actually just a big theatre, fully equipped with lots of painted papier-mâché and complete with a safety curtain, looking pretty well for its 100 years or so. Maybe it had been restored, along with the theatre.

Good set, mainly made up of what look like big brick walls, but were presumably some confection of wood, plastic and polystyrene.

Stage smoking right exercised, possibly by Henry IV, possibly inhaled.

Costumes of today rather than of four hundred years ago. Mostly fairly subdued, but some royal robes and rather more battle dress. Including purple berets - which might have annoyed any paratroopers who might have been in the audience. Purple berets should be earned.

Mortal combat with plastic knives not very convincing. Furthermore, as far as I can make out there is nothing in the text of the play (Act.IV, Sc.V, L.85) to suggest that the Prince of Wales (as Henry V, the future victor at Agincourt) killed Henry Hotspur in the unsporting manner we got in this production. He might have had his faults, but he was a gentleman.

I dozed a little in the first section, up to the interval, but was fully awake after that. Odd how I am often better in the second half of plays that the first. That said, the cobbling together did not do a very good job on the last half hour, which seemed to drag a bit. Perhaps we had been sitting on reasonably hard seats for too long. Perhaps they should have stopped when the old king died; dropped the closing Act.V and not shipped in the death of Falstaff from Henry V (mainly Act.I, Sc.III). A shipping which rather changed its tone: in its original home, the death was the death of someone who had already long left the scene. A bit of an afterthought. A bit like the death of someone who has been in a care home for some time, with all their old life and connection having long fallen away.

The geriatric did well enough and I dare say long practise made up for age. Hotspur was properly physical, entirely believable as a fighting man. And I liked his father Northumberland, suited and careful, not a fighting man (at least not any longer) and not given to the outbursts of his son at all.

Some US style clapping after big speeches.

Overall verdict, glad we went. But I like it better done in two halves.

Out to take a little stroll to stretch the legs a bit after the long sit, and then a quick peek around the back of the 'Stage Door' to find the proprietor's car, maybe £50,000 worth of Porsche Cayenne. Maybe he is more worried about his car than those of his customers who want to smoke out back. Can't quite compute what looks like a serious step in front.

Proper florid Greek inside, not very well captured by the snap above. Pretty busy anyway, but further livened up after a while by the arrival of a large 80th birthday party.

Hummus to start, followed by Moussaka for him (something which I have not had for a good while) and sauced chicken with rice for her. Red wine for a pleasant change, Black Swan 2021 Agioritiko. Big footprint on the web, and while I can find the grape at reference 6, I failed to find the producer, supposedly to be found at 'https://www.greek-wine-cellars.com/', but they don't seem to be taking calls at the moment. On the other hand I did find reference 7 and there does seem to be something of a German flavour to the operation. As much blending, bottling and distribution as gardening.

A dessert to follow, I forget now what. Plus a spot of Metaxas 7 Stars. According to reference 8: 'Metaxa 7 Stars has the highest percentage of Muscat wine in the Stars Range, which brings the pleasant sweetness of the round fruity taste to the spirit'. I found it a little sweet. Didn't think to try the Ouzo, which was available, partly, I suppose, because I have it down as an apéritif rather than a digestif.

And we got an old style bill with the order written on a bit of headed paper, rather than something printed off the till. First one I remember getting for ages. Altogether a very satisfactory meal.

Suicides must have been an expensive problem for them to have built this expensive fence to keep strays off the main line platform.

In the event, my ticket at least did not work on the way home.

PS 1: in the course of posting this, a book turned up from Berlin. Which despite the name of the seller (snapped above) came shrink wrapped and to all appearances was brand new. And a fraction of the price of anyone else on eBay, new or used, even when taking postage into account. A title which might translate to 'Second hand and antiquarian science books', but I am not too sure about that, even with the help of Bing and Google. In any event, a good result for me, as I would not have gone for the higher prices.

PS 2: after the event, I turned the pages of Part 1 to find a bit about using a sword and buckler. Act II, Sc.IV, L.165 where we have Falstaff boasting about his sword and buckler, sturdy yeoman style. We are referred back to Act I, Sc.III, L.227 where Hotspur refers insultingly to the Prince of Wales as a sword and buckler man - this being a time when gentlemen had moved onto the rapier and left the sword and buckler - presumably a lot cheaper than a decent rapier - to yokels, attendants and serving men. These bits might well have been cut, but I don't suppose many of the cast or many of the audience would have been very alive to these subtleties. Any more than I would. While my mother used to take her (village college) classes right through the play before she carried them off to Stratford - and expected at least some of them to be alive to said subtleties.

PS 3: there was also the question of whether Part 2 was a proper play at all, with Part 1 having a much tidier plot which came to an end after the (sanguinary) battle of Shrewsbury which secured Henry IV on his throne. Was Part 2 just the sweepings, just too much to fit into Part 1. Many words in the preface spent on telling me that this was not the case, that Part 2 was a perfectly good play in its own right. The lady doth protest too much methinks? A quote my memory had moved from Hamlet (Gertrude) to Romeo and Juliet (Nurse) - a move I can find no license for in the text of this last. A mistaken move I think I have made before.

PS 4: later: the mistaken move now tracked down to reference 9. Four years ago.

References

Reference 1: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2024/02/gnashed.html.

Reference 2: https://www.threeapescoffee.com/.

Reference 3: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2020/03/macbeth-two.html.

Reference 4: https://www.stagedoorsteakhouse.com/.

Reference 5: https://antiquariat-in-berlin.de/.

Reference 6: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agiorgitiko.

Reference 7: https://greekportfolio.prestigebevgroup.com/wineries-distilleries-breweries/greek-wine-cellars-d-kourtakis/.

Reference 8: https://www.metaxa.com/en-gb/products/metaxa-7-stars.

Reference 9: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2020/03/when-i-was-old.html.

Reference 10: https://psmv2.blogspot.com/2015/12/henry-iv-part-i-part-ii.html. Near ten years ago that I did Part 1 at the Barbican twice. My father's favourite play.