Tempest one

Last Saturday to the Tempest at the Barbican, with one of our national treasures in the lead, Simon Russell Beale, first seen by me in the flesh at the event noticed at reference 1, more recently as the long suffering husband in a film of 'Deep Blue Sea' (good) and as Falstaff in a film of Henry IV (adequate). In between, no fewer than two outings to see his Lear (good). See references 2 and 3.

Bad start in that the cyclists had taken over London again and Waterloo flavoured public transport did not seem to be functioning at all. Plus long queues at Epsom Station, with lots of customers, one out of two windows and one out of four machines working. Southern rules again.

Elected to travel by changing at Balham, where there was a working window which made no fuss about selling us tickets in arrears, with the only small catch being that the clerk could not sell an Epsom flavoured travelcard from Balham, resulting, in effect, in a small surcharge. Route worked well, rather better than the Elephant & Castle version suggested by the journey planner, which we now suspect of maximising the rail element of a journey at the expense of the tube element.

Picnic outside a closed pub near Moorgate, a pub which came with a lot of expensive looking garden furniture, solid endangered species from the tropics, furniture which did not appear to be chained down when not in use, in the way of suburban pubs. Perhaps they thought that theft would be too much of a performance from this particular location to be worth while. Perhaps they had cameras recording the scene over the weekend. There were also some rather handsome planters, illustrated above.

Into the Barbican where we found that programmes had risen to a fiver. But apart from a nasty smell of printing ink, quite good value, including a short essay about Jacobean masques and their place in this particular play.

Taking their queue from the masque, lots of clever effects with stage machinery, lights and sounds. I found the opening scene with a rocking wreck clever but rather forced. A bit self-indulgent on the part of the creative team. We also found SJB to be quite unsuited to the part, which he played in the manner of a building site foreman from the sixties. Short and tubby, lots of hands in pockets. No stately or even aristocratic to be seen. Menials, monsters, fairies, music and dance rather better, clever even. But I felt that the play was rather lost in all the cleverness. Not helped by my nodding for the second half of the first half. One example of this coming from the second half of the second half, where Miranda's famous line about brave new worlds was messed up, managing to raise a titter from some of the younger members of the audience.

Plus I did not care for the silly white uniforms worn by the bad guys. Much better to stick with vaguely Jacobean.

Ran for around three hours including interval. Full house, at least downstairs, in this big theatre. Plenty of people of working age and a fair sprinkling of children, whom, I suppose it was thought, would like the fancy staging. No luvvies or celebrities to be seen although there were some near misses.

Out to scuttle back to Moorgate in a light drizzle, to exit once again at Balham to take refreshment at the public house presently called the Regent, formerly the Balham Tup and before that a notorious den of iniquity, well known for the sale of flesh, powders and other substances, legal and illegal. Respectable on this occasion, running to a respectable glass of white wine from one of the colonies.

Despite my note about this at reference 5, we managed to get the slow train from Balham to Sutton, the one that goes via Croydon, but there was compensation in the form of three middle aged ladies, one very smartly dressed, on the way home from what we took to be a well lubricated beano. Loud discussion about house improvements, house prices and other beanos they had known. Probably fans of one or other of the many house flavoured reality TV programmes. All great fun.

Onto the Brasserie Vacherin at Sutton, a new to us French flavoured restaurant in Sutton, convenient on this day of transport shambles. Bread and flavoured butter good. Charcuterie plate good. A substantial lobster between the two of us, with chips. Not as fresh as it might have been, but adequate. Chips served small in the presently fashionable little metal buckets. Almost as good as the chips you get from McDonald's, on which subject see reference 6. With my own memory on the subject of McDonald's chips and dripping, stirred up yesterday on another outing, being faulty, but not off the wall.

We had chosen a Chablis to have with our lobster, and waved it onto the table without really paying much attention, partly because that I find the first sip of a white wine very misleading, a very poor guide to how the rest of it is going to taste. But on this occasion I was not impressed and got to reading the label, to find that we had been foisted off with what turned out to be a £10 bottle of Chablis from the nearby Morrisons, not what it said on the menu at all. Which meant that not only had our trust been abused, but that we were paying rather more than the around three times the price mark up which is usual and reasonable in restaurants (qualified by the thought that the factor should come down as the price does up). I think the staff - at least two of whom, one a young man from Cornwall and another a young lady from Poland, seemed very inexperienced (if pleasant enough) - were rather embarrassed to have been caught out in this way, as well they might have been. I took tarte tatin for dessert, and asked for Calvados, which was also on the menu. Perhaps once bitten, twice shy, because they did not try to pass something else off for the Calvados which they did not in fact have. No legging it down to Morrisons while I waited. I settled for a drop of Sauternes. But the tarte was at the heavy goo end of the tart spectrum, not the way I like it.

However, all moaning aside, we had a good meal, we enjoyed ourselves and we might well be back. A pity that we do not have such a place in Epsom, which one might have thought would have been a better bet than Sutton, known to be a touch rough at night.

PS: the following morning: the lapse noted at reference 5 has been nagging me for half a day. But suddenly I thought to ask for Carshalton Beeches and there we are. A post which I am fairly sure I did look at, just before the event. Which all goes to show that the older memory plus complicated search algorithms makes for a tricky situation. See reference 7.

Reference 1: http://pumpkinstrokemarrow.blogspot.co.uk/search?q=beale+luvvy.

Reference 2: http://psmv2.blogspot.co.uk/2014/06/sponsored-by-julius-bar.html.

Reference 3: http://psmv2.blogspot.co.uk/2014/06/leared-again.html.

Reference 4: http://www.brasserievacherinsutton.co.uk/.

Reference 5: [missing]. I am sure I read about making the mistake of catching slow train to Sutton in some blog entry or other, just before setting out on this outing.  But not only did this not stop us making the same mistake again, I cannot now find the post.

Reference 6: https://www.thoughtco.com/mcdonalds-french-fries-still-not-vegetarian-3970283.

Reference 7: http://pumpkinstrokemarrow.blogspot.co.uk/search?q=hurricane+ariel.