A Long Day Off

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Applebees, Boeing 737, Charles Dickens, Charlotte NC, Ebenezer Scrooge, Ford V Ferrari, Hertz Car Rental, Hilton Garden Inn, Old Forge NY, Philadelphia, Stanley Tucci, The Damned United, Wilson Arizona

Wednesday marked my first day off since I arrived in America, although it would be fully taken up with travelling from the Midwest to the East coast. I woke very early, I mean VERY early for some reason, but used the morning to get back to Wordle, which I had not played for a few days, and had a very satisfying result of three, and then got to work on writing my blog post.

My flight was not actually until 1.50, so I had plenty of time throughout the morning to get packed and ready. Over the last few days of performing I had amassed a very large amount of laundry, so after breakfast I went to the hotel’s front desk to get enough quarters to pay for two loads of washing and drying. The lady at the desk looked in her cash register and when we had finished the transaction, the Element Hotel, Mid Town Crossing, had only 75c of quarters left, whilst I had a jingling, jangling bag of booty.

When I had flown from Heathrow a week before my large suitcase had been perilously close to the weight limit, so I decided to try and back both of my costumes (the frockcoats and trousers are made from quite thick material and therefore are heavy) into my carry-on roller case, and sure enough I managed to squeeze them all in. I watched TV (avoiding anything political, as it was the day of the Midterm elections and passions were running hot) until the cycles of washing and drying were complete. I carefully folded all 10 of my costume shirts and packed the main case, which was still heavy (note to self, be more careful when packing for the second leg of my trip later this month) and closed everything up.

I checked out at around 11.15, meaning I had plenty of time to fill my car with petrol, get to the car rental return and into the terminal and still allow the recommended 2-hour window before my departure. Before I left, I remembered to leave the radio microphone pack, that I had inadvertently ‘stolen’ from the Westside High School the day before, in an envelope at reception.

The drive to Eppley Field Airport is a very short one, and I relished it for I had greatly enjoyed my time in the Venza and will miss it. I stopped at a gas station on the way to fill up, and had the usual battle in working out how to open the filler cap in an unfamiliar car. After sitting at the pump for a while looking through the owner’s manual, I finally found a little button low down on the left, about the level of my shin – there would certainly be no possibility of accidentally opening it, which is why, I presume, it is so carefully hidden away.

When I put my credit card into the pump it came up with a message that they couldn’t currently process remote card payments and I would have to go into the shop and pay there before filling the tank (this is one of the biggest differences between America and Britain that I come across: in England a driver is trusted enough to be permitted to pay for their fuel after they have filled their tank, rather than having to prepay). At the counter I had to guess how much fuel I was going to need, and I had no idea. Gas prices have been fluctuating wildly across the globe in recent months, and I wasn’t really sure if they are very expensive or back to normal in America at the moment. I also knew that the Venza would need half a tank, but what did that mean? I made a very random guess of $20, and the girl assured me that if I didn’t reach that amount, then the balance would be returned to the card. When the pump clunked to a stop, I had actually put a little over $17 in, so my estimate had been a pretty good one.

At the Enterprise rental car drop-off, I bade farewell to my trusty steed, that had actually spent most of its time with me stationary in parking lots, thanks to the generosity of Kimberly in Missouri and Frank in Nebraska, and I hauled my luggage to the terminal where I grabbed a bite of lunch, before clearing security and waiting at my gate. It was obviously going to be a very busy flight, and sure enough an announcement was made asking if anyone would like to check their carry-on baggage to free up space in the cabin. I did so, and immediately regretted it, as all of my costumes where in that bag – metaphoric eggs in a metaphoric basket, indeed.

When we were called to board, I had a wave of happy nostalgia come over me, as the plane was a Boeing 737. OK, I know this sounds silly, and one aeroplane cabin looks very like another, but when I started touring back in the 1990s the 737 was the staple workhorse of every airline, and I spent so much time in them, quite often flying in costume. Over the years Airbus have supplied many of the carriers, but today I could wallow in memories. One remarkable development in air travel over recent years is the ability to access an airlines database of movies on your phone or tablet, and as I settled into my seat, I perused the choices on offer before selecting ‘The Damned United’, the story of English football manager Brian Clough’s disastrous period in charge of the Leeds United soccer team in 1974 – he only lasted in the post for 44 days, coincidentally the same time that our last Prime Minister survived in her job before being forced to retire. Brian Clough would go on to great success later in his career, winning the European Cup twice with Nottingham Forest: somehow, I don’t foresee such heady heights for Liz Truss, certainly not in Europe…

My journey from Omaha to Philadelphia was made via Charlotte, North Carolina, which seemed to be a somewhat circuitous route, but when you are blasting through the air at 35,000 feet, geography does not mean much. The view out of the window was truly beautiful as we made our way over either the Nantahala or Pisgah National Forest, a setting sun casting a rich golden glow over the gentle wooded contours below and creating shadows that gave the terrain the look of the swelling waves on an ocean

My film finished as we approached Charlotte, and I spent the rest of the flight watching a travel programme featuring Stanley Tucci exploring the culinary delights of Rome. During this time the purser on the flight announced the wonderful rewards that would come my way if I signed up for a certain credit card, after which the cabin crew made their way up the aisle with leaflets complete with an application form – does anybody, has anybody, ever taken one of those forms on a flight, and applied? It seems a very archaic method of marketing, and I would be fascinated to know if it actually bears fruit for the financial institution involved, or for the airline.

We landed at Charlotte airport a little early, and there was a crazy rush to get off, as obviously some other passengers had a very tight connection time. I was able to relax and hold back as I had an hour in hand, and thanks to the America Airlines app I could see that my departure gate was in the same terminal as we were arriving at, which gave me a great sense of peace. I ambled off the plane and made my way from gate B5 to B 15 where there was a huge crowd waiting to board, Actually the large group was made up of passengers for three flights, one to Richmond, Virginia, one for Philly (mine) and one for Vegas. I made sure that I was in the correct mass of humanity, lest I should be erroneously whisked away to Nevada. I might have fun there, but my luggage would be in Philadelphia – to paraphrase the famous saying, ‘what arrives in Philadelphia stays in Philadelphia’.

The next flight, which would take me back North again was very busy, and the boarding process took a long time. As I stood in the aisle waiting to get back to seat A24, the captain came over the intercom in a somewhat agitate fashion ‘ ‘Hey guys, lets hurry this process up, we have a hurricane coming up from the South and we need to get this thing outta here and out run it! I think he fancied himself as starring in a 2nd World War adventure movie, although passengers did begin to take their seats with a renewed sense of urgency.

For my second movie choice I watched Ford Vs Ferrari, but the flight was not long enough to finish it, which was a shame. Philadelphia airport was its usual bustling self. I waited at baggage carousel 12, where a screen told me that the luggage from the Charlotte flight would be delivered, but for a long while nothing came, until I noticed a passenger that I recognised pulling his luggage from a different location. I asked him if he had indeed been on the Charlotte flight, and he replied that yes and the baggage was on carousel 10. I made my way there and looked at the screen, which told me that bags from flights arriving from Phoenix, Las Vegas, Dallas and Los Angeles would be delivered there: no mention of Charlotte, but sure enough there were my two cases making their languid way round and round. I collected them, and walked back up to carousel 12 and told the scattering of miserable folk who were forlornly still waiting for their bags that maybe they should try number 10 instead, and off they ran with a renewed sense of hope.

To get to the car rental garages at Philly you have to wait outside baggage reclaim next to a road, and wave down a courtesy bus for your particular company. Unfortunately, as I arrived at the curb, I saw a Hertz bus disappearing around the corner and so had to wait for quite a while, until another one appeared.

Over the last few years Bob Byers had set me up as Gold member with Hertz which gives me the great privilege of avoiding the lines at the counter and just going straight to a certain area of the garage and choosing my own car. Usually, I go for an SUV, but on this occasion, I spied a rather sleek looking Cheverolet Malibu, and loaded my bags into that and set off for the 40-minute drive to my hotel in the township of Mount Holly. It was almost 9 o’clock when I arrived, so I diverted to an Applebee’s restaurant which was near to the hotel, and had a supper of fish and chips. My accent attracted some attention and soon people were asking where I was from and on my reply of England, one guy said ‘Yep, I thought so! I thought either England or Australia, but you weren’t rude enough to come from Australia, so I figured it must be England!’ The conversation then turned to what I was doing here, and when it was discovered that I performed A Christmas Carol people started suggesting other towns where I should perform, most specifically one in Williams Arizona and another in Old Forge New York, both of which feature railroad journeys after the fashion of The Polar Express. The New York venue is in the heart of the Adirondack mountains, which feature as the setting of the James Bond novel, The Spy Who Loved Me, so it would be fun to go there.

When my dinner was finished, I made the short drive to my hotel, another Hilton Garden Inn, and soon was in my room. I unpacked my squashed-up costumes, so that some of the creases would have a chance to hang out overnight, and then gratefully let sleep take me after what had been a very long day off.

The End of It

Tags

A Christmas Carol, A Christmas Carol characters, Bob Cratchit, Byers'Choice, Charles Dickens, Ebenezer Scrooge, Quality Inns

On Sunday the USA leg of my 2021 tour came to an end, with a single afternoon performance of A Christmas Carol at Byers’ Choice, but the business of the day began early, with the two issues that had haunted me the previous night.

Firstly, there was the subject of my Covid test, taken two days earlier on my way to Lewes, and from which I would need a negative result to be allowed back into England. As of Sunday morning, no notification had arrived, so I started researching the possibility of getting another test, hopefully with an instant turnaround, at Philadelphia airport after my show. The other issue was that of the TV and the coverage of the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix which was due to start at 7am. The televisions at The Montgomeryville Quality Inn give you the option of casting your own content from a phone or laptop, and if you happen to want to watch regular programming, you simply press the button marked ‘TV’. Unfortunately, in room 215, the TV button had no effect. At 6.30 I went to reception, where Cynthia, the night manager, was coming to the end of her shift. She gave me a new remote, in case the batteries in mine were fading, and I went back upstairs to try again, with the same result as before. Back down I went, and eventually she offered to let me change rooms, which was very kind of her. I was now in room 207, and to my relief I discovered that I could indeed get to ESPN2 and watch the full build-up to the race, as well as the epic event itself. Fortunately, I had spent the early part of the morning packing my suitcases, so it was easy to transfer all of my things along the corridor from one room to another.

As all of this was going on I was also doing a final sneaky bit of laundry, as I didn’t have a fresh shirt to wear during the day and on my flight home, and while I was shifting things from washer to drier, I also collected the ‘Grab and Go’ breakfast offered by the hotel: I chose a sachet of oatmeal, to cook in my room’s microwave, a sausage and egg muffin, some orange juice and a coffee, and as I settled down to eat in front of the TV I received a text message confirming that my Covid test result had come back negative. My stars were aligning.

At 8am the race started. I won’t go into details, but it built up to a suitably exciting and controversial climax to an exciting and controversial season – everything boiled down to the very last lap before we knew who was crowned the 2021 World Champion.

With the race over, I resumed my packing (remembering to retrieve my dried laundry) and loaded the car up ready to drive back to Byers’ Choice. When I arrived, I took all of my cases into the office as I would need to pack my top hat and cane into the large one, and the costume that I would be wearing into my hand luggage. The offices were deserted when I arrived, so I sat in the boardroom and completed all of the oxymoronic online paperwork for my flight home.

Soon Bob appeared and said hello, and shortly afterwards Dave appeared with the microphone. Outside the lines were beginning to form for the biggest show of the year and as they were ushered in, I got into costume. I drank water and sucked on a Fisherman’s Friend throat lozenge to ensure a smooth show, and then sat at the desk and played a little backgammon on my phone, until it was time to walk to the hall. The room was already packed, and the high school choir were struggling to make themselves heard over the general hubbub, indeed one disgruntled parent was suggesting to Dave that he should make an announcement to ask the audience to be quiet and listen to the carols.

1.30 soon ticked around, so Bob and I went into our well-grooved routine and to get the show started. The large audience were certainly enthusiastic (is it were or was? Is an audience a plural or a singular? hmmmm), and I gave a what I believed to be a very good final performance: no carolers fell off their table and I didn’t try anything clever with candlesticks, meaning that I had a problem-free run to the finish line. The cheering and whooping and loud cries of ‘BRAVO!’ that started almost before I had finished ‘God bless us, every one’ were amazing, and the applause continued loudly as I returned to bow to all corners of the room.

As I left the stage, Bob walked onto it, and called me back for the final question and answer session of the season. A question that has come up fairly often, in varying forms, is about the text I use and how much it is changed from the original, and I answer that everything is based on the text that Charles Dickens himself had prepared for his readings, so is almost completely lifted from the original. One fairly obvious modern departure is the gross manipulation of old Joe’s snot. Obviously, Dickens didn’t write that particular description, but the passage that he DID write passage creates the sense of repulsiveness, that I try to capture:

‘They left the busy scene, and went into an obscure part of the town, where Scrooge had never penetrated before, although he recognised its situation, and its bad repute. The ways were foul and narrow; the shops and houses wretched; the people half-naked, drunken, slipshod, ugly. Alleys and archways, like so many cesspools, disgorged their offences of smell, and dirt, and life, upon the straggling streets; and the whole quarter reeked with crime, with filth, and misery.’

One change I have made during this year’s performances, just in the last few days of the tour in fact, has been to keep that atmosphere through the following scene and and so have made Mrs Dilber and Joe less figures of fun, but more downtrodden victims of society.

Another moment is when Scrooge surprises Bib Cratchit by telling him that he will raise his salary, and I, in the guise of Bob, stand and use the stool to fend off this apparently madman. Again, as with Joe’s nasal explorations, in the book Cratchit doesn’t do this, but he does get ‘…. a little nearer to the ruler. He had a momentary idea of knocking Scrooge down with it, holding him, and calling to the people in the court for help and a strait-waistcoat.’ So, once more, even though I don’t use the line of narrative, I do capture the essence of the .original text..

Bob had been careful to choose a variety of questions that had been submitted – some about Dickens, some about A Christmas Carol and some about me, and the sessions have proved to be very popular. Maybe it is something we will think about continuing next year, even if there are no Covid restrictions in place by then.

When we had finished up on stage I returned to the boardroom and began packing my cases for the journey home, and by the time the top hat hat had been stuffed with socks, and wrapped in the woolly scarf to protect its shape, and everything else had been carefully folded and stowed, the Byers’ Choice team were well into the task of converting the 700-seater theatre into a production floor once more.

I found David up a tower, taking all of the theatrical lights down, and called up my thanks for all of his amazing work.

Jeff and Jake were packing chairs away, and I said goodbye and wished them the best for what will be very difficult Christmas season. I said goodbye to Pam, who always does such an incredible job in creating my tour, and finally to Bob who masterminds this whole crazy project on my behalf.

I loaded up the Rogue and set off towards a golden sunset, destination Philadelphia airport, and ultimately London.

As ever it had been a fun tour, with so many enthusiastic audiences and great people to work with. It is strange, but I haven’t felt desperately Christmassy during the weeks on the road, and I think that there is still a nervousness hanging over society which looks to the next year with a sense of suspicion. But for 75 minutes in a variety of rooms and halls throughout the North East of America, hopefully we could all forget those concerns and revel in Charles Dickens’ ‘ghostly little book’ and convince ourselves that we can honour Christmas in our hearts and try to keep it ALL the year!

Merry Christmas and thank you to everyone who has followed my American adventures over the last month, or so.

Homeward Bound

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Charlotte Airport, Kansas City Airport, London

On Monday morning it was time to head home and once again I was resigned to spending the best part of a day, and night, in a mask. The first job on waking was to complete all of the paperwork and make sure all of the correct forms were uploaded to the VeriFLY app (I wonder who it is that decides what to capitalise and what not to?). Yes I was vaccinated, Yes I had purchased an approved testing kit which I would use within two days of returning to the UK, No, I was not travelling from a Red Zone country. When at last everything was approved and uploaded I was ready to pack.

My costumes had aired (a polite way of saying dried out) and They went in to the cases (one in each) first. Then I stuffed my top hat with socks, so it wouldn’t bet crushed and wrapped the thick green woollen scarf, that Liz knitted for me a few years ago and which features in the show, around the outside of the hat. Everything else was carefully folded and packed until the only thing left was the wooden cane which just fits diagonally across the top of my large case. Kimberly arrived to pick me up at 10, and soon we were on the road to Kansas City Airport. There is something very reassuring about KCI, all of terminals are built to the same pattern, a large semi circular concourse, with check in and very limited retail on the outer side of the curve, and the gates on the inner. It is an old airport and frankly there is not enough room for the facilities that the modern traveller expects, but it IS KCI, there is no other airport like it, and that is a wonderful thing. However the area around the terminals is now a construction site and in two years’ time a big new sparkly terminal will be opened and KCI will be just like a hundred other airports. Kimberly and I said our goodbyes and I began the process of getting home. On entering the airport I was greeted by a notice on the automatic door: ‘DOOR CLOSED FOR THE SEASON’ What a strange thing! I made my way to check in and as has been the norm it was suggested that I check my carry-on roller case all the way to London, so I just had my leather shoulder bag to take with me, and felt rather sauve and wordly-wise. Security was busy, but I’d left myself plenty of time and was able to grab an early lunch before boarding my first flight, to Charlotte. In fact the flight was delayed by 30 minutes, which didn’t effect me but was causing great consternation among those with tight connections. I sympathised fully, for I have been in the same situation on many occasions and know that feeling of complete helplessness.

The flight into Charlotte was utterly beautiful, at one point the sun caught a river to create a silver slash across the landscape, and as we made our final approach the fall colours were stunning. You can always tell when you are flying into a Southern city for all of the schools are dominated by huge football fields, and usually not simply fields but stadia.

As we landed those passengers who had tight connections were panicking about getting to the correct concourse and gate in the few minutes available to them, and bemoaning that their bags would not make the flight. It seemed very unfair, therefore, that my connection for which I did not have to rush was at the very next gate.

Charlotte used to feature a great deal in my early touring years and it is an airport that I have always loved, the main concourse being like a giant conservatory complete with trees and white rocking chairs. Somehow there seems to be a slower pace in the airport which befits the South. In those early days there used to be a small booth that sold writing equipment and I would always pick up boxes of ink cartridges for my Waterman fountain pen (this in the days before Amazon Prime) there.

On the concourse there were advertisements for ‘Mini Suites’, which I have seen before, but this year the focus of the marketing had changed and tapped into to passengers’ current needs, for the sign proclaimed ‘Unmask and Relax in a private suite’

I had two hours to wait, so I bought myself a coffee and a pastry and sat in a rocking chair watching the world drift by.

With forty minutes to go before the flight I returned to Gate D5. There was quite a crowd and nearby a young girl was telling an older couple that this was to be her very first time on a plane. Was she nervous about flying, asked the couple. ‘Oh, a little,’ came the reply, ‘I keep thinking what might happen if things go wrong’ That was a cheery note for us all to board the plane to!

I got settled into my seat, and heard the same girl a row or two behind telling her neighbour in the next seat that she was excited to be going to England, at which he, a Brit, commenced telling her everything she should see in England, Scotland and Wales – he spoke in a very dull monotone voice, so maybe her first experience of flying was not destined to be an altogether positive one. On and on he went, his flow only interrupted by the safety announcement which she wanted to watch.

We took off on time and as the night was clear I could easily see Philadelphia as we flew over, and then New York City with Times Square glowing brightly and the black void of Central Park beyond it. Food was soon served and then the lights were turned down and I slept on and off through the night.

It was still dark as we made our approach to London. The wheels touched British soil, then bounced into the air again before settling down for good.

I have just over two weeks at home and then I will be flying to Boston to begin a whole new chapter of my adventures.

What A Treat!

Tags

Academy of Music, Byers'Choice, Dickens and Staplehurst, Fire Trucks, Hamilton

Although Wednesday was another day without a performing commitment, I did have work to do. Two media outlets wanted to interview me via Zoom and as the apartment in Philadelphia does not have a any Wi-Fi at the moment we decided that the best thing would be to drive to the Byers’ Choice HQ in Chalfont and do the interview there.

I was just about to cook myself a plate of scrambled eggs when I got a message from Bob saying that the Condominium board had been in touch to say that there was a gas leak in the building. ‘It’s not dangerous,’ said Bob, ‘but….don’t use the cooker!’ I decided to eat on the road.

The first thing to do was to retrieve the car from the parking lot where I had left it the night before and as I walked through the morning sun a fire truck wailed and whooped and screeched past me – this was a proper fire truck, the sort of fire truck that a child might draw – huge, articulated, covered in chrome and metallic red paint. It assaulted the senses as the blinding lights flashed and the screaming siren filled the morning air. The joy and excitement of watching this leviathan make its way down the street was only tinged with sadness that some terrible emergency had led to its being summoned.

I retrieved the Tesla and set the navigation system to take me to Byers’ Choice, where I have performed so many times over the years. I stopped for my breakfast at a McDonalds on the way and arrived at 9am, ready for my first interview at 9.35. Bob was there to meet me and, along with David who looks after all of my technical requirements when I perform, we set me up in the large board room with a microphone and headphones (which rather effectively covered up the shiny glare reflecting off the top of my head!).

The first interview was with a TV network in Kansas City to promote my upcoming performances for the Mid Continent Public Library Service, and particularly my two performances of The Signalman there – this also gave me ample opportunity to mention (and show) my book – all publicity opportunities gratefully received! Being a live TV slot, the interview was quite short, sandwiched between a cooking demonstration and the Kansas City weather prospects for the next few days. I signed off just in time to log on again for the second interview, this for the Harrisburg Magazine. Although a Zoom call it was not for broadcast but a traditional conversational chat with Randy, the journalist who was writing the piece. It was a very enjoyable interview as Randy asked fascinating questions and let me talk at length about the show, the story, my career, the tours etc. One question was ‘which character in A Christmas Carol do you think merits being fleshed out a little more?’ There was an ulterior motive behind this as Randy had actually written a screenplay about Dick Wilkins, Scrooge’s fellow apprentice in Mr Fezziwig’s business. It is an interesting point and I have wondered the same over the years about a few of the characters. I love to think that the poor charity collector is new in town and his colleagues in the charity give him the unenviable task of visiting Mr Scrooge on Christmas Eve (surely if he was long term resident of London he would know that Marley had died seven years before and that getting money out of Ebenezer would be an impossibility). So the poor man gets sent packing, but the very next morning he is approached in the street by Ebenezer bestowing unimaginable riches upon the charity. I imagine that our gent would return to the office looking very smug: ‘Old Scrooge? I don’t know what the trouble is, a charming gentleman really!’

And then there is the Ghost of Christmas Present when he says ‘My time on THIS globe is very brief……’ Oh, my! What other globes? Where else does he visit?

Anyway, I digress, the interview was most enjoyable and I look forward to reading the finished article when I return next month.

With the interviews completed it was now time to get down to some serious book signing. As we are not doing any post show book signing sessions on this years’ tour Bob suggested taking the time available to us to sign as much stock as possible so that audience members could at least take away a signed copy.

120 copies of Dickens and Staplehurst, as well as piles of A Christmas Carol, The Life of our Lord and some souvenir programmes, took plenty of time and by the time I was finished it was lunchtime. Bob and his mother Joyce (who created the company) brought a collection of salads and we all had a lovely time chatting. On a practical level we pondered how best to negotiate a question and answer session for the large audience’s that typically attend the Byers’ Choice shows, and decided that the best solution would be to get audience members to write their questions as they arrive and then at the end of the show Bob will host a sort of ‘audience with’ type session. So, if you are coming to Byers’ Choice in December, think of your questions now!

Lunch finished, I drove back to the City where I had to find a charging point to re-energise the Tesla. There was a charging point very close to the Barnes Art Gallery that I had visited a couple of days before, so I plugged the car in and then had a very pleasant coffee at a café just off Logan Square. 45 minutes and the car was raring to go again but my final drive in it lasted just five minutes, back to the parking garage in the basement of the apartment block, where I would leave it for Bob to pick it up later.

It was now time to pack my cases again as I would be leaving early the following morning, and I wouldn’t have much time to pack that evening, for the ever generous Byers family had arranged a very special treat for me. At 4.30 there was a knock at the door and I opened the door to welcom Bob, Pam and their son George into their own property, which seemed a bit odd.

Through a rather complicated set of circumstances, too complicated indeed to fully explain here, Bob and Pam had secured tickets for the touring production of Hamilton which was playing in Philadelphia. Liz and I have never seen the musical itself but over the past year or so we have both become rather obsessed with it, listening to the sound track repeatedly and, in my case, reading the Ron Chernow biography of Alexander Hamilton which inspired Lin-Manuel Miranda to create the show. I couldn’t believe it when Pam told me about the trip, but I did feel very guilty and a sad that Liz could not share this evening with us.

We dined before the show and then at around 7 o’clock made our way to The Academy of Music, a very grand looking theatre and joined the throng of excited people waiting to be admitted.

We all had to wear masks throughout the show and also show certificates of vaccination before being admitted (I was worried that my British paperwork would not be accepted, but it was all OK). Our seats were close to the stage, to one side and I loved watching the audience fill the 5 levels of the impressive auditorium and hearing the buzz and bustle as the anticipation increased.

Eventually all of the doors were closed and the house lights dimmed to black, which produced a round of applause before anything had even happened on stage!

I wont offer a full review of the show, but my word it was just as great and as exciting as I had wanted it to be. It was wonderful just to be in a theatre again, and to witness such amazing performances of such a brilliantly conceived piece of art made it a very special evening. I cannot thank Bob and Pam enough for treating me to such an amazing final night in Philly.

After the show we walked through the streets of the city chatting about the show, humming the songs and discussing the actual history behind the story (Bob in particular has a fascination in that particular period and is well versed in the facts), Eventually we arrived back at the apartment block, where I sad good bye to all. It had been a really fun few days but now it was time to move on again once more. The next time I am in a theatre it will be back on the stage again.

What Should a Brit do in Philadelphia?

Tags

Barnes Foundation, Cezanne, Chestnut Street, Declaration of Independence, Museum of American Revolution, Renoir, Van Gough, William Penn

When I woke on Monday, after of course having a cup of coffee and writing my blog post, I left the apartment to go and do a little shopping so that I would have a few things in the pantry for my stay. I found a Target store close by and was soon back ‘home’ where I had a breakfast of orange juice, granola and blueberries, followed by a plate of scrambled eggs. In past years I have awarded an imaginary prize for ‘Best Breakfast on the Tour’ – fortunately I don’t think that my attempts will be at the top of the table when the December comes around, (I would have to disqualify myself for insider dealing), but it was a pretty good effort I have to say.

The next job was to decide what to do with my day, and as I was right there, in the middle of Philly, it made sense to stay in the city and see what it had to offer. I have stayed here before in previous years and have visited the Art Museum, the Free Library and The Eastern State Penitentiary before, so I decided to try something else this year and the answer I came up with was a trip to The Museum of the American Revolution – a strange choice for a Brit in the very seat of American liberty, but it was a subject that has fascinated me ever since I become a little bit obsessed with the musical Hamilton during lockdown. I booked a ticket for 11am (thereby saving myself $2 over purchasing one at the museum itself), and set off to walk. It was a beautiful warm day and the light through the trees and sparkling on the fountains made for a very happy and relaxing stroll.

One of the main thoroughfares in Philadelphia is Chestnut Street, and as I made my way along it it was fascinating to feel myself walking back in time. At first the skyline was dominated with tall glass skyscrapers and it was similar to being a modern city such as Minneapolis, but nestling among them were older buildings, Victorian warehouses and houses, and occasionally a wonderful painted sign from long deceased trader or business, hinting at how Chestnut may have been 150 years ago or so.

On and past the City Hall with the statue of William Penn standing proudly atop it. The Hall was completed in 1894 and for a long time dominated the skyline as a City ordinance was passed stating that no building could rise higher than the level of Penn’s bronze hat.

Eventually in 1986 the need and greed of big business overcame the statute and the statue as 1 Liberty Place soared up and beyond, opening the doors for other developers to build their own towers. Soon William Penn was hidden, but he exacted his revenge by cursing the city’s sports teams, suddenly results dried up. It was only when it was decided to put another statue of Penn at the very top of the Comcast Centre building in 2017, that the curse seemed to be lifted for The Eagles won the Superbowl of that year. Further along Chestnut and the buildings changed again. The Gothic excesses of the Victorian age were replaced with simpler, sparser houses and homes, less akin to Minneapolis and more akin to Williamsburg, and for good reason for I was now walking through the age of Revolution – 1776 and all that. If I had been a British soldier standing on that very spot in the 1770’s I may not have been quite as welcome, for it was there that the Declaration of Independence was drafted, approved and signed at the Second Continental Congress on July 4th 1776.

I arrived at the museum in perfect time and checked in at the front desk, quipping ‘I am from Britain, be gentle…!’ I was aware that a phone call may be coming in for an interview, so checked that I would be able to leave the museum and return if necessary, and then made my way into the small movie theater where I would watch an introductory film about the war.

The whole morning was fascinating and I learned so much. I was able to add facts to battle names that I had heard of but knew nothing about: Kipps Bay, Concord Bridge, Bunker Hill and others. The most surprising revelation to me was to discover that The Battle of Brandywine was fought at Chadds Ford on the Pennsylvania-Delaware state line. Chadd’s Ford is where I stay when I perform at Winterthur, and is one of the most gentle, beautiful places that I visit.

Another exhibit that the museum is very proud of is Washington’s Tent. In another movie theater visitors watch a history of the tent that General Washington used in the field, for he wanted to be among his soldiers, rather than being a remote commander. After Washington’s death the tent was kept by Martha at Mount Vernon before eventually becoming the property of her grand daughter Mary Anna who married Robert E Lee. During the Civil War Lee’s house at Arlington (where the tent was kept) was ransacked and the tent became the property of the Federal Government. It saw a lot of action, that tent. Now it is carefully preserved and shown for a few moments once an hour under restricted lighting conditions to preserve the canvas (and to build the mystique for the visitors). Our guide grandly announced that the Museum would preserve the tent for as long as America was an independent country – ‘And how long will that be?’ he asked a guest, ‘Forever!’ was the patriotic reply. Although apparently in the last crowd the answer had been ‘Three years and two months……’ Our genial host admitted he hadn’t asked any follow up questions to that rather alarming assertion.

Much as I enjoyed the museum, I was now ready for a change of pace and walked out into the sunshine again and forwards in time once more. Somewhere along Chestnut I bought a salad and sat in the open air outside the City Hall (under the watchful gaze of William Penn). My next stop was an art gallery recommended by Bob the evening before – The Barnes Foundation. Dr Barnes was a collector of art and most especially impressionists, post impressionists and early-modern. He had a particular passion for Renoir, Cezanne, Matisse, Picasso and Van Gogh, but his great interest was how the art was viewed, so rather than displaying his collection in rooms dedicated to a certain artist or a certain time, he would mix and match, seeking links through colour or form or structure or subject.

The collection is housed in a modern building with a tranquil reflecting pool alongside. This was a gallery for serious art lovers and throughout little groups stood together stroking their mask-covered chins, nodding wisely and pointing out some detail on either a painting or a collection, that astounded them. I am was in that league, but I did enjoy the art! To be honest there was too much Renoir and after a while the rather highly coloured, swirly, out of focus nature of a lot of his art began to make my eyes go a bit strange. For a while Liz and I were were chatting via WhatsApp (which was very nice, it was as if we were in the gallery together) and she admitted not to being a great fan of Renoir either: ‘It feels like eating too much sugar’!

The Cezannes and Van Gogh’s were amazing however and it was very nice way to spend an afternoon.

As I left the Barnes Collection I realised I was feeling tired, so made my way back to the apartment block where I had a little nap before getting up to cook dinner – Meatballs in tomato sauce with spaghetti.

It had been a most enjoyable day and yet a contrary one – a Brit visiting the Museum of the American Revolution and a man not very keen on Renoir visiting one of the largest collections of his work! But I had had fun – I had pursued happiness and I had found it.