Animal Magic
Firstly, I would like to thank Margaret Thatcher for hanging on until Monday. I wouldn't like to be going down to London this weekend*!
We did go last weekend though, and managed, against the odds, to get to see a couple of highly-sought-after events.
We actually managed to get tickets for Warhorse (the stage show). We've tried to get tickets for this show each time we've been down to London, but to no avail - it was always sold out. This time, The Husband again looked for tickets a few weeks in advance, and found that there were two available - but not seated together! So we didn't bother with that, but on Thursday last, he checked again, and lo and behold some tickets had become available for some seats four rows from the front of the stage! At somewhat more than their face value, it has to be said, but heigh-ho!
It was definitely worth it though - the life-size horse puppets are amazing, and astonishingly realistic considering that they are made of mesh and wire and operated by three entirely-visible puppeteers. The Theatre is a relatively modern one, so the stage is low and close to the audience. When you're seated only four rows back, it's quite an experience to see these things coming galloping towards you! I'd definitely recommend it to anyone who has the steely resolve to trawl the Internet for tickets and the ability to mortgage their house to pay for them ;-)
That was on the Saturday, and on the Sunday we again managed again to get the last two tickets for one of the hottest gigs in town, this time the British Museum's Life and Death in Pompeii and Herculaneum, featuring exhibits from the two Roman towns famously obliterated by Vesuvius.
I'm afraid I cannot possibly mention what we saw there. My lips are sealed. I will only hint obliquely at it behind this lj-cut:
Among the exhibits was one statue which was being publically displayed for the first time since it's discovery in 1752. Prior to this, you had to apply for a viewing licence. (and, presumably, an ECG to make sure your heart could stand the strain). The statue is of the goaty Roman god of sex, Pan, doing what any good Sex God would do. Having Sex. With a goat.
The Guardian tells us all about it here , but primly fails to supply the correct picture.
So I'm giving it to you here.
There. Are you feeling suitably degenerate and corrupted now? Good.
The statue was actually in a little side room, and I almost missed it. It was also smaller than I was expecting - probably only about 70cm or so high and wide. I examined it carefully from every angle - Pan's goatiness was well defined by the size and shape of his testicles - and then I remarked somewhat morosely to The Husband:
"You know, I thought I was really rad and edgy with my Interwebby Midget Goat Porn Thang, but now I discover that the bloody Romans did it two thousand years ago! CAN WE HAVE NOTHING FOR OURSELVES???"
(TH just nodded and looked vacant. He's used to that sort of thing)
Other Roman porn that I particularly enjoyed was the statue of Hercules "urinating" (he had his hand around his dick. whether he was "urinating" as the exhibit label insisted, I could not possiby say!) and the cute little windchime in the form of a flying dick, with a dick for a tail and a dick for a...er... dick. Charming!
We flew in and back from London City Airport, which is better than Heathrow in that it is not Heathrow, but which charges £11 for a glass of wine! (I had the small glass at only £8!) The Husband is even now planning our next excursion. (It's a long tale involving Tesco Club Card Points and Air Miles)
* a narrow escape! unlike a friend of mine who awoke on the morning of his fortieth birthday during a trip to London to discover that the sainted Princess Di had shuffled off her mortal coil. The London experience was... less enjoyable after that.
We did go last weekend though, and managed, against the odds, to get to see a couple of highly-sought-after events.
We actually managed to get tickets for Warhorse (the stage show). We've tried to get tickets for this show each time we've been down to London, but to no avail - it was always sold out. This time, The Husband again looked for tickets a few weeks in advance, and found that there were two available - but not seated together! So we didn't bother with that, but on Thursday last, he checked again, and lo and behold some tickets had become available for some seats four rows from the front of the stage! At somewhat more than their face value, it has to be said, but heigh-ho!
It was definitely worth it though - the life-size horse puppets are amazing, and astonishingly realistic considering that they are made of mesh and wire and operated by three entirely-visible puppeteers. The Theatre is a relatively modern one, so the stage is low and close to the audience. When you're seated only four rows back, it's quite an experience to see these things coming galloping towards you! I'd definitely recommend it to anyone who has the steely resolve to trawl the Internet for tickets and the ability to mortgage their house to pay for them ;-)
That was on the Saturday, and on the Sunday we again managed again to get the last two tickets for one of the hottest gigs in town, this time the British Museum's Life and Death in Pompeii and Herculaneum, featuring exhibits from the two Roman towns famously obliterated by Vesuvius.
I'm afraid I cannot possibly mention what we saw there. My lips are sealed. I will only hint obliquely at it behind this lj-cut:
Among the exhibits was one statue which was being publically displayed for the first time since it's discovery in 1752. Prior to this, you had to apply for a viewing licence. (and, presumably, an ECG to make sure your heart could stand the strain). The statue is of the goaty Roman god of sex, Pan, doing what any good Sex God would do. Having Sex. With a goat.
The Guardian tells us all about it here , but primly fails to supply the correct picture.
So I'm giving it to you here.
There. Are you feeling suitably degenerate and corrupted now? Good.
The statue was actually in a little side room, and I almost missed it. It was also smaller than I was expecting - probably only about 70cm or so high and wide. I examined it carefully from every angle - Pan's goatiness was well defined by the size and shape of his testicles - and then I remarked somewhat morosely to The Husband:
"You know, I thought I was really rad and edgy with my Interwebby Midget Goat Porn Thang, but now I discover that the bloody Romans did it two thousand years ago! CAN WE HAVE NOTHING FOR OURSELVES???"
(TH just nodded and looked vacant. He's used to that sort of thing)
Other Roman porn that I particularly enjoyed was the statue of Hercules "urinating" (he had his hand around his dick. whether he was "urinating" as the exhibit label insisted, I could not possiby say!) and the cute little windchime in the form of a flying dick, with a dick for a tail and a dick for a...er... dick. Charming!
We flew in and back from London City Airport, which is better than Heathrow in that it is not Heathrow, but which charges £11 for a glass of wine! (I had the small glass at only £8!) The Husband is even now planning our next excursion. (It's a long tale involving Tesco Club Card Points and Air Miles)
* a narrow escape! unlike a friend of mine who awoke on the morning of his fortieth birthday during a trip to London to discover that the sainted Princess Di had shuffled off her mortal coil. The London experience was... less enjoyable after that.