reporting live from the show "Wicked" in downtown London. We are just
a few minutes from curtain draw. You can feel the anticipation of the
crowd as they find their seats. Speaking of the curtain, there is a
map of Oz on the curtain with the Emerald City in the middle and
important places like Munchkindland and such scattered around. A huge
dragon hovers at the top of the stage over the orchestra pit.
Sally and I returned to the half price ticket place about noon today
and found 2 tickets that someone returned. I don"t really believe the
"just returned" story, but the price was within our limit, so we got
them.
What else did we do today? Sally did not sleep well last night, so
she slept in this morning. I fought the morning rush hour traffic on
the tube to go to the Globe theatre for a tour while she slept. The
Virginia Street Station was blocked off when I arrived at quarter past
8, and like a pile up on a freeway, men and women in business attire
with concerned looks to their time pieces were piling up against the
barrier. There was no explanation on the reader boards, just a transit
worker at the top of the stairs blocking access. I tried another entry
around on the other side of the block, but it too was blocked. I
decided to catch a bus and was waiting for the correct number to
arrive when I noticed people were entering the tube station again, so
I headed down.
The pile up of people that had accumulated over the past half hour was
now making it's way to the platforms. It was sardines in a can. I
stood back as the first train came, figuring their appointments were
more important than mine. Through the windows it was apparent the
train was packed full as it came to a stop. Only a few got off and the
hoards on the platform began filling every nook and cranny on the
train. The last woman squeezing on had to stand pigeon toed to get her
toes out of the way of the door and was leaning in against the crowd
to avoid the door clobbering her as it shut. I wish I had the presence
of mind to video the whole scene, it was amazing.
The next train pulled in with more room and we all crowded in for the
ride.
The Globe Theatre is a perfect recreation of the original from
Shakespeare's time, complete with thatched roof (although there is a
sprinkler head every five feet along the peak of the roof incase of
fire).
I paid 10£ to tour the theatre, yet to watch a play as a groundling
standing in front of the stage would only have cost 5£. But, every
play was sold out, so a tour would have to suffice. I found the place
enchanting and if I ever return to London, getting tickets in advance
for a play there would be a top priority.
Sally was up when I returned at 11:30, so we headed out to the half
priced ticket kiosks and purchased the aforementioned Wicked tickets.
Mussels and fries at a Rick recommended restaurant lived up to
expectation and we were off to the British Museum. Wow! Talk about
looting the world of it's treasures! Mummies, whole friezes from the
Parthanon, Greek Urns and a million more pieces of ancient priceless
artifacts in a Louvre sized complex. It was impressive to say the
least. We rented the overview audio guide so we could sample
everything and not get overwhelmed trying to see everything, which
would be a multiple lifetimes task.
By 5:30, closing time, our brains were full and our eyes buggy. We
walked and tubed back to our room by 6:30, showered and dressed and
were out the door by 6:50 on our way to Wicked which was a 10 minute
walk away.
The story was fun, the stage props and costuming amazing, the theatre
great and the two leading ladies excellent. Now, I am no play critic
and I can count the stage productions I have seen on one hand, but at
times I felt the quality was equal to a Toledo High production. In
comparison, this speaks highly of Toledo's various directors and
actors over the years, because Tracy McFarlane and crew's portrail of
"The Butler Did It" and Marshall Hughes and Tessa Buswell's
performance in "Christmas Night" were just as compelling or fun. I
guess I expected more from a London production of a major play.
Still, we had a great time and enjoyed ourselves.
On the walk back food was on my mind. We stopped at a grocery for
bagels, cheese, custard and milk. Half a block from our hotel the Fish
and Chips hole in the wall shop we had been walking by for days was
still open. This seemed a sign to us, so we stopped in and got an
order to go. While waiting for the fish to come out of the grease we
got talking to a kid in his twenties with such a thick regional accent
from somewhere in London that we could only make out half of what he
was saying. We just shook our heads yes and laughed when he did and we
had a great . . . conversation?
The proprietor was from Croatia and his helper was from Iraq. We
discussed politics and life in England before we took our Fish and
Chips, now wrapped in paper and slowly staining from the grease and
headed for the hotel.
Our late night snack, our first TV watching in five weeks, a show
about the history of air travel in Brittain and zonk-our last full day
abroad was over.
Chuck
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