Weaver three

At the end of last month back to Drury Lane for another go at the Tempet, the first time I have ever been to the same show three times. Two times fairly often, but not three, not at least as far as I can recall.. It was not that I thought that it was a particularly good production, but I did find the play interesting.

On this occasion, I actually managed to read a fair chunk of the introduction in the Arden (Frank Kermode's version), and I was impressed by the extent that both Shakespeare and this play were very much part of the literary world of its time, that is to say the beginning of the 17th century, the time, inter alia, of court masques and of the discovery of native Americans.

A bright, cool day and I accepted the offer of a lift to the station - arriving there with not many minutes to spare - despite having done little that morning.

Some loud and talkative young men near me on the train. Lots of expletives. Young men on a beano? Of an age to be students, but judging by their talk they had rather a lot of money for that. But it was a very clear sky, ideal for aeroplane spotting, which provided some diversion. I managed an easy two at Earlsfield and just missed a two at Clapham Junction.

Tried to leave the platform with my trolley through a regular gate, which shut on me as I was going through, bruising a rib slightly. Ticked off by the platform attendant who explained that the way that sensors worked meant that trolleys should be taken out through the wide disabled gate rather than a regular gate. I will know next time! I might also say that the gates at railway stations, when not open, seem to be pretty well attended these days.

Bus to the Aldwych and back to the Orée and its pigeons for a snack. Ham & cheese baguette washed down with apple juice. All very satisfactory. There was also a lady with the almost identical trolley but it was not convenient to make her acquaintance.

Augmented with a spot of Woodford on arrival at the theatre, apparently the house brand. Perhaps a real cognoscenti could manage more than half a dozen of the 200 flavour notes advertised in the snap above, lifted from reference 2. Perhaps a real whisky drinker would have noticed that it was Bourbon! I declined a tub of crisps, the playgoers' alternative to the tubs of popcorn on offer at most cinemas.

Theatre rather more than half full, with just a few performances to run. Nothing like as full as on the previous occasions, but still quite respectable.

I didn't actually fall asleep, but I did nod a bit at the 40 minute point, more or less the same point as on the previous two occasions. I put this down to older person's metabolism rather than anything particularly wrong with that bit of the play. I associate to trainers telling us how hard it was to keep students awake in the first session after lunch. I put it down to the combination of sitting still and being relatively passive.

I was checked at the interval by a young lady who must have marked my card when I came in. Very efficient of them.

One bit I thought that Weaver managed very well was her farewell to her faithful Ariel on discharge. That apart, all the stuff that the Arden talked about seemed to be absent - all the stuff, for example, about nature and nurture - a hot topic at the time of writing - so either I was being very dense, it had been cut or mangled. I don't think that I was asleep.

So all in all, something of a disappointment. I did not feel I had connected with the play, despite making a conscientious effort. I think I did rather better at the Barbican before the plague.

Wandered across the bridge to the Green Room of reference 4 and sandwiched between the National Theatre and a building used by the Ballet Rambert, although not for performances. A place we have visited from time to time in the past.

Not busy early evening, although there was some sort of office party going on at the far end and it was getting steadily busier while I was there. I was reminded that standing office parties were not my favourite form of entertainment.

A bit nearer me, I was very impressed by a girl who was rather plain, but who made a good deal of herself with her presentation and her manners. A successful package and I thought she was going to do OK in the world. Conventional good looks are by no means essential.

While above, I admired the chipboard roof H-beams. Perhaps all that had to carry were the sheets of roofing, whatever that was. Bing not much use today, but Google turned up the people at reference 5 who call them I-joists.

Burger a bit goo-filled, but perfectly satisfactory, as was the service. Chips rather salty but on another occasion I could always ask them to omit the salt.

Another lady on the train home, impressive in a different way. Maybe about fifty, very slender legs, very short shorts and regularly dressed upper half. Very tough looking, as if she ran a tough bar or something of that sort. On her way to or from a gym?

Took a break at Earlsfield, where, for some reason, I remembered about the secondhand bookshop that used to be next to the station before some station refurbishment or other bought it out. Run by a chap who was keen on cricket, liked a fag out back of an afternoon and carried a lot of cheap copies of Jane's Fighting Ships. Quite a decent selection of other books too. To judge by reference 6, a place I once used to visit quite often. After it went, another quite decent, but rather more expensive, secondhand book shop opened in the one of the shops in the second parade in the Tooting direction. Didn't last very long though.

References

Reference 1: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2025/01/weaver-two.html.

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

Reference 3: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bourbon_whiskey. Made with maize and flavoured with barrel seems to be the key,

Reference 4: https://grlondon.co.uk/.

Reference 5: https://www.jtatkinson.co.uk/i-beams-i-joists.

Reference 6: https://pumpkinstrokemarrow.blogspot.com/search?q=earlsfield+bookshop.