Tempest two or Beale at the Barb

Consulting Arden after the event noticed at reference 1, I was reminded that there was indeed some play to be lost, so went for a second attempt the following week, getting, as it happens, very nearly the same seat as I had occupied on the first occasion. With reminding including being told that a young couple playing chess, either in art or life, was full of significance in respectable circles in the early modern era. A young couple could play chess to their hearts' content, a form of non-contact dalliance which did not upset their elders and betters. I suppose that by the nineteenth century couples of this sort had moved on to reading poetry to each other while sitting in some secluded spot, indoors or out, with the reading coming with plenty of tremor in the voice and meaning in the eyes. A practise which I now read in the Sitwell purchase noticed at reference 2 survived until the twenties and thirties of the twentieth century.

Furthermore, BH remembered all about a very significant such game of chess in a film called 'The Thomas Crown Affair', including the names in life of the chess  players, while the best that I could do was remembering that some people thought that this was one of the best films ever. It must have been fairly best because Cortana had no trouble turning up a YouTube of the game in chess in question. From which I learned that I remembered at least one of the songs in the film well enough, something about windmills. But see reference 6 for the game.

Getting back to business, only one of the five tickets machines from Southern at Epsom station was working, but luckily there were two windows on the go and only a small queue, so no trouble getting a ticket at the proper place, unlike on the previous occasion. No trouble getting to the Barbican a little early, but without picnic, so thought to take lunch.

The snacks for sale in the Barbican struck me as rather dear, so despite the light drizzle I headed off up Whitecross Street on the chance that the Market Café would be open, which it was. Quite busy but with rather slow staff whom I did not recognise. But bacon sandwich (which the slow staff managed, quite wrongly, to deliver before the tea) on crusty factory white was as good as ever, after which the manager reappeared to take my money. He explained that I need not have worried as he ran a seven day a week operation. While I find now that they made a different mistake on the last occasion, so clearly he has problems getting staff too, even before brexit bites. See reference 7.

Outside, I was intrigued by the pitch markings (for the then absent market stalls) in the kerb stones, illustrated above. I did not get down to ground level to inspect them properly, but the numbers appeared to be copper plate, let into the kerb stones. Presumably concrete, with the slots for the markings made by including what amounted to large letterpress numbers etc set in the moulds. Whereas at Bentinck Street they had rested content with crosses. See reference 3.

Back inside the theatre, some of the clever stage effects did indeed seem very clever, being struck on this occasion with the way they managed to catch the atmosphere of a wood, with the sun filtering down through the trees.

There seemed to have been a number of small changes to the way that things were done. The position of the actors on the stage and that sort of thing.

I was also struck by the parallels with Lear, in particular an old man having to give up his daughter and volunteering to give up his powers. An old man who lost it from time to time. But a thought which was almost certainly unconsciously prompted by the fact that I had gone to see the Beale version of Lear back in 2014, on no less than two occasions, just as here. Something which I had forgotten since tempest one. See reference 5.

Then we had the question of the proper relations between a king and his subjects. Concerning which I thought that poor old Caliban got rather a poor deal. Apparently OK, given his bad manners, for him and his island to be taken over by some strays from Italy. The question of how human a spirit conjured out of nothing could be. Nevertheless, a  morality tale with a happy ending, rather than a tragedy. And although I liked it better than first time around, recognising that SJB could turn up the power when he wanted to, I still felt that the play was a bit lost in the woods, as it were.

I also managed to nod off for a short while in exactly the same place as I had the first time around. Perhaps there was something wrong about that bit of the play - the bit where we are introduced to the drunken servants. Act II, Scene II.

Still no luvvies that I could name, but the chap next to me was a large theatrical man of colour, raised in Denver, but now resident in New York. He had done acting, song and dance, and was now into lecturing at NYU and directing, something of a specialist when it came to fancy stage effects, thus accounting for his presence at this production. He also told me that in his acting days, he would not drink during a run because he found that it took his edge off. He just did not understand how people like O'Toole and Burton remained as good as they did, despite their considerable consumption of alcohol. Something which I would certainly agree with now, with a noticeable loss of edge for most of the day after even a moderate night out.

Out to Moorgate to find a very jolly hen party on the platform, who thought it proper to ask for any advice I might be able to offer the bride. A bit slow at this sort of thing, so I offered the thought that after near fifty years of it, I still thought that marriage was a very good thing. They may have been the same hen party that I subsequently bumped into at Balham, where I had paused for a little something at the Regent.

I rather liked the atmosphere at the Regent. Mainly, but not exclusively, mixed groups young people having a good time on a Saturday afternoon  - without getting drunk, noisy or otherwise silly.

The train I caught to Epsom at Balham included the fattest man I have ever seen, maybe of the order of thirty stone. It was a wonder that he was still alive. His wife was maybe fifteen stone and looked quite small next to him.

At Cheam, I wondered why they did not redevelop the site, with a huge amount of space being left by the removal of what I think might have been a main line to Brighton, running between the up and down local lines.

Out at Epsom to help a lady with a lot of luggage, a child and a violin. She said she lived in Jersey, was coming back from the Endellion Festival in Cornwall, a festival which is distantly related to the Endellion Quartet, of whom we have heard quite a bit over the years. Encumbered as she was, it must have been a long journey, but she seemed good tempered enough. I learned that the quartet had had two changes of personnel over the years, rather than the one that I knew about.

To the High Street ASK for tea, formerly the 'Old Bank', formerly a NatWest bank. Garlic bread special, essentially pizza lite, was good. The new Alto pizza, made with some kind of creamy cheese, looked good but was not so good to eat, with my not being much of a fan of hot soft cheese. I will stick to the regular pizza in future. To quote: 'a thick airy base studded with olives, tomatoes and topped with special ingredients. Ham and scamorza cheese version: smoked scamorza cheese, coppa ham, mascarpone cheese and mushrooms. £13.50'.

PS: I took a peek at reference 4 but the site was a bit short on mug shots and I failed to find my luvvie. The nearest was one Timothy Oliver Reid, but he did not look right (even allowing for the luvvie habit of using ancient photographs) and did not seem to have a Denver connection.

Reference 1: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2017/08/tempest-one.html.

Reference 2: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2017/08/the-blade.html.

Reference 3: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2016/06/bentinck-street.html.

Reference 4: http://tisch.nyu.edu/.

Reference 5: http://psmv2.blogspot.co.uk/2014/06/leared-again.html.

Reference 6: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oVp9v9kCXE8.

Reference 7: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2017/05/cello.html.