I must apologise for updating this thing so infrequently. I think about my dear blog every day, but seldom actually go to the extent as to writing anything in it.

So what am I doing these days? The usual. Working, watching telly, reading a bit, playing computer games, going to the occasional performance.

And this week was a very nice one when it comes to stage performances. The long awaited Follies in Concert charity gala took place at the London Palladium. I had nightmares about my inferior clothing the night before, but as people seemed to go in whatever outfit they had lying around five minutes before leaving home (I am generalising heavily here; actually most people looked quite nice), this proved to be an unfounded worry. The people on stage looked more glamourous than most of the audience. Of course, it could also be the fact that many of the lookers-on were there for the same reason I was (well, that is doubtful, but still...) and couldn't actually afford more than the ticket and thus no new clothes.

OR it could be that people just don't give a toss anymore. People wearing jeans to the theatre annoy me. I am indeed turning into an old bag.

The audience's clothing aside, we were all having a good time and we enjoyed showing our appreciation to the cast and crew, even though not all of us gave any extra money to the charities of the night, the Starlight Children's Foundation and the Kingston Hospital Cancer Unit Appeal.

I must admit (I have a lot to learn, but please bear in mind that I only fully discovered theatre in 2001) that I didn't quite realise how great a cast it would be, what kind of a treat I was going to get. I had been focused on a few select names I recognised, the rest did not mean anything to me. However, when the show started, I began to see the light. There were the immense voices of Kim Criswell and Dame Josephine Barstow, the well-known faces of Imelda Staunton, Meg Johnson and Angela Rippon, the perfect casting of Liz Robertson and Tim Flavin and of course the reason for why I was there (three guesses, everyone, no prize to be won), Philip Quast and Maria Friedman.

There were a few others there, too. Like Sir Trevor McDonald, the reason for why everyone named Trevor now automatically becomes Trevor Mc... in our home. Thus, the much talked about Trevor Eve of course becomes Trevor McEve. Go figure. And speaking of Mr. Eve, I am glad Waking the Dead is back, but I have a peculiar feeling that the next episode, in two weeks' time, will be the last.

Back to the Follies, it had a lot of typical Sondheim numbers, but for me the pinnacle was when Maria Friedman performed Losing My Mind. Not because of the song itself, but the fact that at the end of every chorus I had this thought of the Pet Shop Boys in my mind. And when I got back home I discovered why I thought the song should have had a quicker tempo; I am of course used to hearing the song in synth-pop form and performed by the previously mentioned PSB.

As London Underground did their usual weekend "engineering works", the non-stop route from the theatre to my own place was non-existent and I had to take the train back home. On the upside, the train took me all the way to my door (nearly), so that I wouldn't have to go through the local slums the slightly fishy neighbourhood in the late evening.

Then, yesterday, I went to see Evita for the last time. As I had officially forgotten how many times I have seen it (five or six), I told myself "enough is enough". Plus, Philip Q is leaving soon and I cannot stand Mark "Houlihan" Heenehan in that part (I even sneered at him involuntarily yesterday, the poor chap), so what is the point? And so, naturally, midway through the second act I had to admit to myself that I needed to see it once more.

I would like to apologise to anyone sitting next to or behind me at any musical I know, as I cannot sit still and just watch the thing--I have to drum the beat (and sometimes the chords) with my fingers. Preferably somewhere on my face. People on the tube are probably getting used to it, but it's different at the theatre (even though people wear jeans).

Ooh, by the way, there was a new Che yesterday. At first I thought he was rather good, but he didn't last the course and halfway through the first act I found myself missing Matt Rawle.

And yesterday's audience was the worst I have been part of for a long time. They were ok, but somehow I just felt very uninspired. I couldn't feel the love. Sort of. Luckily, the cast were very professional and either 1) didn't bother, 2) didn't pick up on it, or 3) weren't as paranoid as I was. As opposed to certain other casts I have been unfortunate enough to experience. I did spot one of them starting to laugh during one of the more sombre scenes, though, which was fun (I am so cruel I enjoy it when people fuck up on stage...or rather, I find it very funny and rather laugh with them than at them). Besides, I really doubt no one else noticed. When you have seen the show a few times, you may take the liberty to start watching the other actors, not just the ones currently singing.

Before signing off, I would like to recommend the brand new album by MIKA - Life in Cartoon Motion. It's a really poppety-pop album and very uplifting.

Labels: dreams, evita, music, musicals, personal, philip quast, theatre, tim morgan, trevor eve, TV