Ink

Back in October, I moaned at reference 1 about all the extras lobbed onto an already expensive pair of theatre tickets. Saturday past we went to the show in question, 'Ink' at the Duke of York's in St. Martin's Lane. A show loosely based on the metamorphosis of the Sun newspaper into its present form in 1969, in the hands of Messrs. Murdoch & Lamb. Cortana turned up reference 5 by way of technical background: linotype, hot metal and all that.

After much debate of the matter over toast at breakfast, we decided that the way there was to change at Vauxhall, change at Green Park and exit at Leicester Square, rather than attempting a bus or a walk. As it turned out, Vauxhall tube station was surprisingly crowded this Saturday lunchtime and there was a long walk to change at Green Park tube station. Not the walk across platform job I had expected at all.

But then it starts to get better when we arrive at the theatre. Start at the wrong part of the front entrance, but once we enter by the right part, we are given our tickets without having to present our stroppily worded email at all - just the same sort of stroppy wording that you get on hospital appointment and speeding fine letters. But all we had to do was give our name and they gave us our tickets.

We then dive into Covent Garden for a snack, to make a change from our usual picnic, and find ourselves in the New Row Coffee Shop in New Row. Two very engaging young people behind the counter along with genuine home made sausage rolls, which turned out to be very good. The tea was fine too, despite being served in something like Duralex. We learned that decaff with soya should be served at 68C so as not to damage the chemicals structure of the soya milk. We were also accosted by a couple a smartly dressed ladies who, misled by my scarf, wanted to engage in Manchester City chatter. See, for example, reference 4.

Out in the street we were accosted by a gentleman selling Jamaican patties. We complained that his patties involved puff pastry, unlike those be had in Garratt Lane, and he explained that short crust pastry was used by commercial bakers for its convenience but that puff pastry was proper. His wife, who came across on the 'Windrush', should know. We were rather impressed and may be back to sample his wares at some point. See reference 3.

On into the show to be impressed by a tremendous set made out of stack of office furniture making full use of the unusual height of the stage at the Duke of York's.

Play set off at a tremendous pace, lots of noise and action which really swept one into Murdoch's achievement in building in smash hit newspaper - whatever one might think of it - in no time at all, sweeping away the old guard in the process. Plenty of cigarette action, as befits the time in which the play was set, but the old guard only got as far as waving their fat cigars in the owners' room of  the Press Club. No lighting, let alone inhalation, that I could see. Despite the subject matter of the play, there was very little flesh in evidence - I dare say gratuitous exhibitions of female flesh are politically incorrect just at the moment - but the director saw fit to make up with plenty of F-word instead. A plenty which we found both unnecessary and tiresome.

Handling of the Muriel McKay kidnapping and murder in the second half rather good, with lots of tension between a bit of privacy for the boss and his family and a spiffing scoop to knock spots of the Mirror. With the drive to beat the Mirror being the thread which held the story together.

We wondered whether much of the audience would pick up on the cracks about the print unions, a foolish breed subsequently driven to extinction by said Murdoch. So long ago now, that young people never knew the world of real union power. And I don't suppose many of them would have made any connection to the recent efforts of the rail unions.

We knew the chap playing Hugh Cudlipp - Jonathan Coy - from his role as Dalgliesh's side-kick in a murder mystery taken from a P. D. James yarn which we had on a car-booter sourced DVD and happened to have watched quite recently. The rest of them were new to us. The only catch being that Bing cannot confirm our identification. Maybe I will check further.

The middle of row H was spot on for this show, at this theatre.

Out to eat at Terroirs where, as it happens, we had more or less the same meal as that noticed at reference 6, up to and including the Pont-l'Évêque  and the Calvados. We were entirely successful in asking for the lamb to be a little less rare. Slightly more bother in getting the right wine, as they initially tried to palm us off with the wrong Sylvaner. Luckily, I could show the waitress a picture of the right Sylvaner on my telephone, which was then forthcoming, amidst much grovelling.

Terroirs busy, with a small queue outside by the time we left at around 1900. We thought that it was unlikely that we would ever queue to get into a restaurant again, although we may have done such a thing at Hard Rock, in the distant past.

We passed on supplementary Calvados at the Archduke on this occasion.

PS: post completed after taking in a couple of Craster kippers from Waitrose. Very nice they were too. The small compost heap had a treat in the form of a couple of pints of warm, oily water. With the bonus of reducing the kipper stink in the kitchen. Furthermore, I think our fish kettle came from John Lewis too.

Reference 1: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2017/10/more-irritation.html.

Reference 2: https://www.thesun.co.uk/.

Reference 3: http://jamaicapatty.co.uk/.

Reference 4: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2016/12/a-first-selfie.html.

Reference 5: http://www.moah.org/virtual/printing2.html.

Reference 6: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2017/11/cheese-home-overseas.html.