Sunday, 15 January 2012

A trip to the Theature to see 'Scrooge'

Yesterday I had BIG plans. I was going to hold a lunch for Izzy and two of her friends, and then take them to the theatre in Oxford to see 'Scrooge - the Musical'.

Pic.No.1 Tommy Steel was featuring as an EXCELLENT Scrooge

I wanted to have something fun to look forward to, because generally, once the Christmas holiday celebrations are over, three months of drab and dreary coldness stretches ahead, as interminable as an episode of Deal or No Deal. So, I decided to proactively fight the post-Christmas blues like a Gladiator with a pugil stick, standing on an unnecessarily large column located in a random position. Whilst wearing a pair of unfeasibly tight skids.

Hence my idea for a day out at the theatre. 

Blimey, I digress. Back to our day out. Izzy's two friends, whom I shall refer to as Children A and B (that's why my nickname is not Mrs Imagination) arrived simultaneously at midday, and for 5 minutes my kitchen was a flurry of parents, backpacks, Naughty George woofing vacuously, and children screaming.

Then the parents left and within seconds all three kids were within inches of my face.

"Have you got any chocolate?" one of them asked, breaking out into a waxy sweat.

"Or cake?" piped up a second, shaking in anticipation. 

"Nope," I replied, "But I have cooked you a Spaghetti Carbonara for lunch, at Izzy's request."

I picked up each child in turn, and plonked them onto a dining chair next at the table. 

Then I handed out the dishes of Spaghetti Carbonara to each sprog.

Child A took one look at her lunch and stated .... "I don't like it."

Child B, having clocked what Child A had said, added, "I don't like it either."

"You haven't even tried it," I stated incredulously, before giving in and feeding them some garlic bread that cost 37p instead. I also wondered if they would develop Beri Beri before I could get them home at the end of the day.

Izzy however, was forever the diplomat (nope, I don't know where she got it from either) ... she gave me a big grin, took a bite of her spaghetti, and said, "this is gorgeous Mama."

I might have believed her if it wasn't for the fact that I overheard Child A telling Child B - "if you don't look at it, and don't breathe through your nose, you can swallow it ok."

Needless to say, the luncheon process was rather protracted, and I shouted 'Huzzar' when at last it was time to leave for the Theatre.

And so to the rest of the day .... here goes dahlink ............... meticulous Dickens planning in all it's glory ......

All three kids were shoehorned into the car, and for some bloody reason, once we were ready to go, the bastard thing inexplicably failed to start. I turned the key and nothing happened. I assumed that it needed a jump-start, so I phoned round some people who lived in the vicinity, but no one was close enough to come and help me out, and leave me with enough time to subsequently get to Oxford.

"You BERLUDDY car!" I shouted at it, waving my fists in the air and hopping about.

Izzy stuck her head out of the back window, "we are going to be late if we don't set off soon," she pointed out helpfully. I responded by shaking a fist in her general direction and yelling "Grrrrrrrrr."

Then I had a brainwave - I could ring a taxi. I phoned around a few local firms and it turned out that one of them had a car in my general area. We were saved! I got all the kids out the car, and before locking it up, I idly gave the ignition key a final try. And the bloody car only fired up. What the blazes was that all about?

"Quick, get back in the car again," I yelled at them, "we are REALLY late."

So, three screaming, wriggling kids were strapped into the car (again) whilst I telephoned the pissed off taxi driver to cancel the ride.

Without further ado, we screamed down the country lanes (always keeping to the speed limits) towards Oxford whilst I listened to Child A tell Izzy and Child B "Izzy, I don't think your mummy is sure what she is doing." Fair play.

And would you bloody believe it - we got to Oxford on time - just. I parked the car, and carefully herded the three exuberant six year old girls across town and into the 'Oxford Playhouse'.

 Pic.No.1 The Oxford Playhouse Theatre

I looked at my watch - it was 2.25pm and the show was scheduled to start at 2.30pm. I heaved a sigh of relief and handed my tickets to the Usher. She regarded them miserably before glibly stating, "these tickets aren't valid."

"What do you mean they aren't valid?" I hollered, pointing at them in an exaggerated fashion, "they have got today's date and time on ....... why are you refusing us access?" I demanded, getting a bit hysterical.

"You are at the wrong theatre," she pointed out emotionlessly. This is 'The Playhouse' and you have got tickets for the 'New Theatre'.

Aaah! Sacre-Bloody-Bleu!

"Quick!" I shouted to the three Muskehounds, "holds hands, follow me, and RUN - FAST!" And so we sprinted at full pelt across the town centre, before finally arriving at the New Theatre with all the veins in my head throbbing, and three heaving kids behind me.

I handed my tickets to my second Usher of the day.

"The performance has already started," she stated.

"I know I'm late, but my car wouldn't start," I pleaded.

"And you took us to the wrong theatre," interjected one of the Muskehounds. I clamped a hand around her mouth and turned back to the Usher, "is there anything you can do? Maybe we can sneak in at the back to watch the show?"

The Usher must have spotted the blind panic in my eyes, beause she hesitantly nodded, and said "Follow me," whilst firing up her torch.

 Pic.No.2. Finally, we arrived at The New Theatre Oxford

And she led us to some empty seats at the back of one of the sections. And how about this - They were actually better seats than I had paid for. Kerching! Don't you just love it when that happens?

Even better, the show was bloody brilliant, and was based (obviously) on the famous Charles Dickens' novel. I am not a big fan of musicals normally because most of them are like plays except that the dialogue is shouted to a tune. But Tommy Steel starred as Scrooge and he was excellent at both acting and singing. In fact, I nearly fell off my chair when I read in a subsquent review that he was 75 years old. And there was some cool magic tricks in the show to boot.

So all in all, after a few hiccups, it turned out to be rather a marvellous day.

How has your weekend been dahlink? Have you got up to anything exciting?

1 comment:

  1. Crikey, you have been around a bit (in the good sense, mind you!). Whereabouts in England did you live?

    How are you finding retirement in Ohio - do you still have itchy feet?


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