We should NOT have got down to London this weekend but somehow or another did anyway. Our original Friday evening flight to LCY was cancelled, as was the one we got put onto, but a lovely lady in the BA lounge got us on a flight to LHR: third flight’s the charm I guess. Robert Lindsey was his usual fabulous self (in that you really believed him to be A. S. Onassis) but as for ‘Fela’…what plot there was glossed over this less than savoury Mama’s boy who told his own tale, plus the music was entirely forgettable but I’ve seen enough dross over the decades (West End, Broadway, semi-professional and amateur) to be able to appreciate the talent and enthusiasm of the performers and leave it at that. HATED Hair (London) earlier this year yet would go to see anything that the two main male leads were playing in next. I’ve only ever wanted to leave one other show at the interval before (the abysmal, frankly embarrassing Dance of the Vampires on Broadway with Michael Crawford) and even tried to make a deal with Himself right then and there Saturday night for us to cut out and go for a nice meal. My husband has very, very few flaws: refusing to leave a crap show is one of them.
My job this week is to choose the plays for my birthday weekend five weeks from now. The flights are booked but given this country’s inability to deal with bad weather I might just be waiting until we get there. There’s no such thing as a ‘sold out’ show.