Yesterday found your intrepid blogger and her partner on London's South Bank, in the Festival Hall, for Circus Oz.
The building work has commenced. The hoardings are up alongside the Hall, and, unfortunately, in front, blocking the river view from the ground terrace (no problem from the Upper Terrace, though). I said, whoever granted this planning permission should be shot! (Of course, in the long term, it will be great. Omelettes and eggs, dontcha know...)
We really enjoyed ourselves. Just good entertainment. Not deep, not challenging. Fun.
I especially liked the trapeze and poll work, and the tumbling. The opening was spectacular, as drummers played flaming drums, with flaming drumsticks, someone rode a bike whose wheels were alight and someone else manouvred round inside a wheel, which was alight.
I loved the clown with the upside dressing room who walked across the ceiling. Upside down. They're Australian, you see. The human cannonball was good, too. The one bit I didn't enjoy was the double jointed contortionist, who actually dislocated his shoulder and elbow on stage. Bit too yuck for me. It was good, very good, but way too yuck.
I read some reference to this in the Daily Mirrror recently (Will Young spotted in the audience) and it was described as erotic. I was a bit sceptical, because, surely the email/webpage would have carried a parental warning. It was inyerface, it was loud, raucous. Many of the tumblers and trapeze artists were fairly minimally - but decently - dressed. If that's what the 3AM Girls think of as Erotic, I think they need to get out more. (So immersed in the trivia and mediocrity of low culture they miss out on what they actually seek...)
It was an excellent exercise in people watching, too. Especially people with small children. Many of them, doubtlessly, from the suburbs or commuter belt.
It began before hand. Two thirty-something women alongside me. The one next to me asked if she could have a look at my 'brochure' - I think she meant the programme, available for sale for a whole �2.50 outside the auditorium...Being a Nice Person, I obliged. Then I looked at Jimmy, who just laughed. "A 'Please' would have been nice," I whispered to him. "Why do you attract these people?" he said.
The woman shoved my 'brochure' back to me. I paused for a heartbeat. I paused for another, and another. "Oh don't mention it!" I said lightly. She gave me this bemused half-guilty, half-this-woman-is-weird look. And thanks to the blogger who originally suggested the "Oh don't mention it..." tactic. Sometimes to be followed by "Oh, you didn't..." The two women didn't return for the second half. Moral of the story. Never. And I mean never. Sit to my left. You will be doomed!
During the second half I became aware of the little boy behind. About 5 or 6. Of course, at that age, one has to blame the parent. I signalled him (politely. I'm a Nice Person) to put his feet down, because the constant kicking of the empty seat next to me made my row of seats shake with irritating irregularity.
But it was the mother mainly who amazed me. The little boy had to carry out a running commentary on everything that was happening. Not that I'm objecting to talking per se - it wasn't that sort of performance. But I hate running commentators. I remember watching films with Mad Lucy. "Why did he do that?" "I don't know - we'll find out." "What's going to happen next?" "I don't know - watch the bloody film." "Is that important for later?" "I don't fucking know - shut the fuck up and wait and see what happens, and let me enjoy the bleeding film."
I could only conclude that Mother is one of those where all child activities have to be structured and outcome-oriented, with specified learning objectives, and a later, feedback session, where the learning outcomes can be evaluated. No playing with cardboard boxes for this little boy. Or rolling gloriously in the mud..!
"Now look, there's one two three four five six seven people on that bike." Tick - Mathematics covered. I'm a counter, make no mistake, but, surely, there's a bigger, more strategic point there. In Gert speak this is "Hey, wow! All those people on the bike! Wow! Looks amazing!" Everything had to be explained to the child, how it's done, what's going to happen next. All in my ear. And this wasn't a quiet sedate performance, so for it to audible over the loud amplified music...
At the end "Now, give these people a clap. Some of them have been doing it for twenty years and they practice everyday." Tick. Work Ethic and Perseverance. Another Learning Objective achieved.
Don't get me wrong, I'm all for kids learning about stuff. But sometimes, it's even more important for their development to sit relax, enjoy, drink in the big picture, the spectacle, the entertainment. And later, to think about, and relate with genuine, unforced joy, what they have seen. Learning objective - becoming used to the atmosphere and customs of a performance venue. Learning how diverse other people behave in crowded public spaces. Learning how to chill out, relax and enjoy.
After it was over, I went to the loo. Inevitably, there was a queue. A woman and her ten (?) year old daughter came in. Moaned about the queue. Decided they would go and stand with Nana, who was two places in front of me in the queue. Child was bursting. Mother said she could wait, didn't need to go. Then, decided that she did, and told the woman behind her, in front of me, "You don't mind." I sensed she did, but just decided life was too short to say so.
When I came out of my cubicle and crossed to the washbasin, the mother barged me out of the way as she went to catch up with Nana. I washed and dried my hands, and then found that Nana, Mother and Daughter were standing across the doorway, blocking my exit. "Excuse me please. " I said sweetly. I'm a Nice Person. "Thank you." I walked up five steps, turned round and said "And THAT is what you should have said when you pushed in the queue and pushed me out of the way..." No doubt Surrey Mother turned to Surrey Daughter and said "What a terribly rude woman. We'll never be rude like that..."
All too often one sees evidence of people who seem to think that being a parent excuses them the niceties of life. The manners, the conventions. To be honest, if someone came into the loos and asked politely to jump the queue, I would rarely refuse - unless perhaps the interval buzzer is sounding ominously. It's like at supermarket checkout queues - I actually don't mind a one-item jumper, if they ask civilly. It's the assuming I hate.
I often think "It only takes one minute to make a baby, all the chavs are doing it, so being a parent doesn't imbue one with moral authority, nor does it excuse rudeness." Then I remember, they are probably rude anyway, but, with their children, it just doubles, triples it. And the Surrey Daughter has already learnt how to be rude without ever giving birth.
Why can't everybody be like me?
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