Taking a bat to the ballet
Went to Northwick Park batting cages yesterday, with the Loan Wolves. Bit of a long trip for me - it's the other side of London to where I live. Cold, windy morning, threatening rain. We hired three cages between nine of us, so we all had a good few goes smacking whiffle balls into the netting. Or trying to. The machines were launching balls against a bracing head- and crosswind, so the deliveries we were facing were interestingly random at times. Good fun, and more of a workout than you might think. When our time ran out, we felt rain falling and decided against further practice in the cold. The cafeteria at the golf course where the cages are was closed, so we treated ourselves from the vending machines instead. I was delighted to see they still make Cadbury's Snack, a staple of vending machines at swimming baths when I was a kid. I also had an "Espressochoc", which turned out to be hot water with a shot of coffee concentrate plus one of drinking chocolate concentrate. If it had had a slug of brandy as well, it might have been the perfect cold weather drink.
We went to the pub afterwards, and talked of life, love and medieval iconography while drinking beer.
I had intended to go home and change, but stayed longer than I'd intended at the pub, so went straight to my evening engagement still carrying my bat in its stick bag. The Richmond Orchestra, in which wascally_weasel's partner plays, were doing a concert in collaboration with the Rambert ballet school. I attempted not to look out of place at this cultural event in tracksuit bottoms and with a bat slung nonchalantly over my shoulder.
The music was good, with a populist but interesting programme. The Peer Gynt suite was good, with the conductor revelling in the history of the play ("it's a criticism of every aspect of Norwegian society, so it wasn't popular there, and it doesn't rhyme in any other language...") and how inappropriate the music was for the moments in the narrative it was illustrating. There was self-choreographed interpretative dance to accompany this, which was quite watchable. No dance to accompany Offenbach's Orpheus in the Underworld (you know, this tune), sadly, but the finale was La Sylphide (not to be confused with "Les Sylphides"). The classic ballet to go with this was fine, but I don't think it really stretched the performers, or gave them a chance to show what they could do. I did wonder if they were bound by following traditional choreography for this work.
As public transport was a bit of a mess due to engineering works, I went back to WW and Bryony's place to kip on their sofa-bed. We ordered takeaway on the way, and WW and I enjoyed a late supper of curry and beer. We watched the first half of the Dirty Dozen, up to Donald Sutherland's movie-stealing "neeever heard of it" scene.
This morning we went out for brunch and a beer at a pub, then I made my way home. Caught in a heavy rain shower and got drenched, but the weather turned pretty sunny after that.
Now I'm going to have a hot bath while the beef casserole I'm cooking simmers.
We went to the pub afterwards, and talked of life, love and medieval iconography while drinking beer.
I had intended to go home and change, but stayed longer than I'd intended at the pub, so went straight to my evening engagement still carrying my bat in its stick bag. The Richmond Orchestra, in which wascally_weasel's partner plays, were doing a concert in collaboration with the Rambert ballet school. I attempted not to look out of place at this cultural event in tracksuit bottoms and with a bat slung nonchalantly over my shoulder.
The music was good, with a populist but interesting programme. The Peer Gynt suite was good, with the conductor revelling in the history of the play ("it's a criticism of every aspect of Norwegian society, so it wasn't popular there, and it doesn't rhyme in any other language...") and how inappropriate the music was for the moments in the narrative it was illustrating. There was self-choreographed interpretative dance to accompany this, which was quite watchable. No dance to accompany Offenbach's Orpheus in the Underworld (you know, this tune), sadly, but the finale was La Sylphide (not to be confused with "Les Sylphides"). The classic ballet to go with this was fine, but I don't think it really stretched the performers, or gave them a chance to show what they could do. I did wonder if they were bound by following traditional choreography for this work.
As public transport was a bit of a mess due to engineering works, I went back to WW and Bryony's place to kip on their sofa-bed. We ordered takeaway on the way, and WW and I enjoyed a late supper of curry and beer. We watched the first half of the Dirty Dozen, up to Donald Sutherland's movie-stealing "neeever heard of it" scene.
This morning we went out for brunch and a beer at a pub, then I made my way home. Caught in a heavy rain shower and got drenched, but the weather turned pretty sunny after that.
Now I'm going to have a hot bath while the beef casserole I'm cooking simmers.