Homeward Bound

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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!

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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?

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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.