Spanish Practices - Real Life in Spain
Society & Culture:Documentary
Today Mary Poppins and Locusts
Day Thirty eight of the Spanish Lockdown, the sometimes amusing, diary of a Brit in southern Spain under the 'Alarma' - normal life has stopped.
To find out more: https://www.thesecretspain.com
Day 38 Mary Poppins and Locusts
It is day 38 of our Spanish Lockdown and yesterday evening I made perfect custard. I usually just guestimate the ingredients but as Birds Custard is an expensive commodity here I actually followed the directions on the side.. and blow me you get great custard including the revolting skin which Chris likes and I hated so much at school.
I think lockdown has now made the most mundane of things a highlight of the day. Whereas in a past time, maybe going to see the premiere of a west end play with a decent buffet press party with wine would be a good night, now it is custard.
It is shameful; but being members of the press we got to see a great many plays and musicals, and for the life of me I can only remember a handful, sometimes I can only remember the free buffet.
We were at the Prince Edward theatre, I think .. well a theatre with a glass balustrade outside at the front, seeing the first night of something or other, but I remember they laid on a sumptuous Chinese buffet. For Chris and I, this was going to be our main meal of the day.
I made a bee line for the chicken satay, and the guy beside the spring rolls made a deliberate moving and turning around action as I headed his way. Shovelling satay onto my plate I noticed that it was the comedic actor Rowan Atkinson. who clearly believed I was some deranged fan heading for a one to one, when in reality I hadn’t even noticed him for the delicious looking chicken satay.
Chris loathes chicken satay but is more than happy to eat Chinese and there was also plenty of free wine and soft drinks to be had. But now post lockdown our highlight is custard, at least I am unlikely to find Rowan Atkinson blocking my way in the kitchen, just three good legs cat who has a habit, like most cats, of being under your feet at just the wrong moment.
Day 38 and we have had a plague of locusts, which seems about right for this post-apocalyptic times. The first came to an unfortunate end in the jaws of the three good legs cat, who chased the creature into next doors terrace and because the poor thing hadn’t warmed up in the morning sun, made easy prey. But don’t tell the cat, who after pawing and ripping the locust to pieces, sat regally and proudly as if he was one of the lions around Nelson’s column.
Tonight we might watch a film, I forgot we have the latest Mary Poppins on the Apple TV. Signing into the ghastly new look, split in to three bits iTunes reminded me we had a number of films that we had purchased.
We saw the theatrical Mary Poppins a number of times, I think at The London Palladium. The first was a pre-premiere press special, where the whole audience are press or press related and the poor cast have to perform in front of critics and drunken hacks. We went to the evening performance and there had been an unfortunate flying incident in the matinee, where the clever wire device that allowed Mary Poppins to fly off across the audience in the stalls, had become detached as she got half way across and it left her balancing precariously over the audience for an embarrassing amount of time as the cast continued in great earnest to wish God Speed Mary Poppins.
In the end they wheeled her back to the stage and some wag of a hack cried out – look Mary Poppins returns. So the evening performance consisted of a quick black out at the appropriate moment so the actress playing Mary could jump off stage.
I thought it was a great clever show, with an amazing moving set that effortlessly moved from the attic to the drawing room and pulled back to reveal the park.
About a year later we went to a cast change, another free ticket and another buffet, but only two free glasses of wine allowed. The ensemble cast were all looking quite worn out compared to that first performance, and you could see they were only going through the motions.
Chris had just finished a long day at work and had grabbed a sandwich to stave of hunger during the performance. Unfortunately, it must have been off because about a quarter way through he whispered that his stomach was churning, and he really needed to fart. I said to him wait to they pipe up with “Chim Chim charee.” And let it rip.
By the interval he was in need of the loo. Knowing the theatre, we knew there was a little bar up in the gods that had a bog we had used before, usually the bar was deserted as the press all went to the main bar for the free drinks, of course forgetting there were paying audience in the theatre that night.
We reached the bar and there was a collection of elderly ladies gathered around tables all drinking gin and tonics, dressed up to the nines, in fact they all looked is if they might have all been former Nannies themselves.
Chris made a bolt for the toilet and I stood in the corner of the little bar trying not to look conspicuous. Amongst the interval chatter you could clearly hear Chris .. lets say evacuating enthusiastically, the dear ladies all doing their best to ignore the noise. One or two looking toward the toilet door with disgust.
Chris did manage the second half, or Act Two as theatre folk like to call it, but it was a struggle and we sadly had to leave before the free buffet, going home hungry.
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