Heading Home For the First Time

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens, Delta Airlines, Dodge Charger, Ebenezer Scrooge, Hertz Car Rental, Hidden Creek Falls Park, The Minneapolis Club

A daily service provided by The Minneapolis Club is to slip a little card under your door to inform you of the likely weather – low and high temperatures and a brief description of the likely conditions. On Monday morning the words ‘Light snow flurries’ had been written. The card had obviously been written by a native of Minnesota, for when I opened my curtains the ‘light snow flurries’ were the sort that would bring Britain to its knees. The snow seemed heavy, and the roads were white. As I would be flying home later that day, I may have been concerned at this turn of events, but from long experience I knew that a bit of snow was not going to affect flights from Minneapolis/St Paul. Actually, my biggest concern was the prospect of taming my big, powerful, rear-wheel drive Dodge Charger on the slick pavement (how American have I become?)

The dining room was much busier as a new working week began, and club staff fussed over me and told me that they had only heard very positive reactions to the shows. I had a good breakfast, including a bowl of hot, creamy porridge, which seemed like a good idea with such an arctic scene outside the window, followed by eggs and bacon, with a couple of slices of toast.

As my flight was not until 5.15 in the afternoon, I had plenty of time to kill, so I packed slowly, making sure that I had retrieved every item of clothing from every draw and wardrobe.

Having checked and re-checked that I had not left anything that I didn’t need in the room, I left the club at 11 and loaded up the car. I guided it onto the road very gingerly, and sure enough at the first green light as I squeezed the accelerator pedal, the rear of the car squirmed and slid around before the big fat tyres finally found some purchase and moved me forward. I also concentrated on leaving a big gap to the cars in front to give me ample space to brake without sliding ignominiously into them. It was a pleasure to be on the road among others who understood how to drive in the wintery conditions, but of course the Minnesotans have to put up with it for 6 months of the year, so it is just a fact of everyday life for them.

I had decided to go and walk somewhere and chose the intriguingly named ‘Hidden Creek Falls Park’. I found a parking space and walked through the snow to what appeared to be a picnic area at the centre of the park.

There were no signs to the hidden falls, well I suppose there wouldn’t be, would there, so I set off along what looked like a path through the thick woods.

I at least new that I would not get lost, for my tracks in the snow were the only ones there, so I could always follow my route back to the starting point, Hansel and Grettel style.

Eventually I reached a perimeter fence but of a creek, or falls, there was no sign, so I made my way back to the picnic area and struck off down a different path which this time proved more successful, leading me to a part frozen, part flowing stream and eventually to the site of the falls which, I have to say, were a bit disappointing. Maybe if I had visited when the stream was in full flood it would have been more impressive, but as it was the trickle of water fell off a concrete, graffiti-covered wall. Some pretty icicles had formed, but it was all a bit of an anti-climax. Even more so when I found a flight of steps which took me right back to the car park – my adventurous treks through the wood had been a bit pointless, although quite exciting and fun.

By now it was getting on towards 1 o’clock so I decided to make my way to the airport which was very close (I had heard the sound of jets taking off in the thick cloud). although it really was still very early to check in. I settled into the Charger again and slid in a rather nice broadside manoeuvre out of the carpark and asked Google Maps to find me a petrol station where I could top the tank up before returning it to Hertz.

The check-in at the airport was quick and easy and I had plenty of time to have some lunch before perusing the various shops in the impressive terminal, and eventually going to my gate. As boarding time came closer it became apparent that this would not be a full flight, and indeed when we were called to board it seemed while First and Business classes were quite busy, economy was practically empty – the few of us back there had so much room to spread out in.

We pushed back from the gate at precisely 5.15, but our actual departure was delayed due to the requirement to have the plane de-iced. We taxied out to a remote corner of the airfield and there two praying mantis-like vehicles emerged from the darkness and coated the craft in a green gunk.

The Airbus being deemed safe to fly we sat at the end of the runway, throttles were opened, and I started my journey home. In a little over two weeks I will be back again, this time to Boston, and the main bulk of my American tour. But I must say a huge thank you to everyone in Kansas City, Omaha, Burlington and Minneapolis who have made this stay so enjoyable and so successful.

A Challenging But Rewarding Day

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens, Dodge Charger, Ebenezer Scrooge, George Floyd, Minneapolis, Minneapolis Institue of Art, The Minneapolis Club

My first day in Minneapolis stretched out a long way before me when I woke, for I only had one show to perform and that would not be until 7.30 in the evening, so I had many hours to kill. Breakfast was in the club’s dining room, and it became apparent that I was the only person staying there. The server asked where I would like to sit, and upon my suggestion that it would be nice to have a view, she took me to a small table by a window, as far from her station and the kitchen as could possibly be, meaning that she had a lot of walking to do every time she needed to either ask me anything, or serve me anything. My view was actually of the entrance to the club’s parking garage, and as I sat, I became aware of a number of cars going in, and the strange thing was, they were all black (as indeed was my car, parked in that same garage).

I ordered a breakfast of some French Toast, bacon and scrambled eggs, and went back to gazing out of the window, it was grey, and the air was filled with flurries of snow, whilst the very few passers-by hurried on, well wrapped up in the way that folks from Minnesota know how to do. A little time past and then a car come OUT of the parking lot, and it was silver, shortly afterwards another emerged and it was the same colour…What was going in there? Was there a car body shop that did Saturday morning resprays up on the fourth floor: ‘any colour you like, so long as it is silver!’

I finished my breakfast and headed back towards the fourth floor. As I mounted the stairs I stopped at the library room, where I was to perform that evening, and which had already been set up with a stage and chairs. There were speakers and a sound desk already in place, but the room seemed small enough not to require any amplification. I went in and stood on the stage and tried a few lines, and sure enough my voice reverberated back to me – definitely no need for a mic. With that knowledge I went on to my room and planned the next part of my day. I decided to completely unpack my suitcase, as I have been living out of it for almost two weeks, and filled a draw with my socks, another with my costume shirts, and hung my regular clothes in the wardrobe, next to my costumes. It felt good to have a sense of permanence, even though I will only be here until Monday morning. I had decided to devote the morning to a visit to one of my favourite places in Minneapolis, and that is the Minneapolis Institute of Art, a wonderful gallery just a short drive, or even a walk, from downtown. I retrieved my Charger from the garage and rumbled through the streets of Minneapolis and headed towards the gallery.

I parked in a lot nearby, paying $10 for the privilege, and then spent a very relaxing and inspiring two hours wondering the many rooms, admiring a wide variety of art, from 4th Century Chinese pottery to beautiful Japanese calligraphy, African tribal art, American impressionist paintings and an amazing collection of European paintings. It was past 12 0’clock, when I decided that I had seen enough, and I went to the little cafe and ordered a simple salad for my lunch. It had been a perfect morning.

I drove back into town and got to my room in time to listen to radio coverage of the first race of the weekend from the Brazilian Grand Prix. Unfortunately, the club’s TV package doesn’t include the ESPN channel that shows F1, so I got the official F1 radio feed on my phone and lay on the bed listening while the action unfolded.

When the race had finished, I walked into town just to get some fresh air, and to buy a couple of things that I needed, and to my dismay I found that downtown Minneapolis is a ghost town and most of the stores are closed. Many that are open have their doors locked and only admit customers if you ring the bell, which rather discourages idle browsing. Last time I was here, the city was preparing to host the Superbowl, and there was a sense of excitement and optimism in the air, but it has taken the double blows of Covid and the tragedy and scandal of the death of George Floyd on the very streets I was walking in, and it has not recovered. It is such a sad sight to see one of my favourite cities in this state.

I made my way back to the club, which felt equally empty and deserted and went back to my room, where I watched tv until it was time for my sound check. Back down in the library I greeted Jeff Arundel, who had arranged for me to perform in the club, and we chatted about old times, and the Pickwick Club, of which he is a member, as is my brother Ian. I re-arranged the furniture and having done a quick sound check we agreed that there would be no need for a microphone, although the sound equipment would still be required for the various effects. Jeff and I huddled around the laptop and ran through the script, so that he was completely confident in where each cue was and how long it needed to be played for. The set looked beautiful the little stage in an alcove surrounded by wood panelling and ark, somber wallpaper that has been there since the club was built in 1907. Lit by a yellow LED spotlight which cast a golden glow on the scene, it really looked as if we were in Ebenezer’s apartment in 1843.

When our arrangements were complete, I went back to my room to relax until it was showtime.

The audience, all members of the club and their guests, were to arrive at 6.30, and spend an hour enjoying various libations in the 1st floor bar, before they gathered in the library at 7.30. Jeff had suggested that I get to the hallway at 7.40 and the show would begin slightly after that. I have had a few difficult experiences in private members’ clubs in the past, when the members have been too stuffy and self-important to relax and enjoy the performance. There have been occasions when I have felt that I am observed with a sense of pity, and my various voices and expressions are regarded with disdain, so I was not sure how this performance would go. I took a deep breath, walked up to the stage and began.

The reaction from the audience was certainly quiet and reserved, and there was little response to those key moments that tell me if the show is working well, but there never seemed to be a sense of boredom or belittlement from the crowd, instead there was a concentration and an intensity to them. I put aside any negative thoughts and concentrated on simple storytelling to the best of my ability, and when I reached the end and left the room through the central aisle, the burst of applause and shouting was immense! It was a wonderful reaction and one which filled me with a great deal of satisfaction – I could easily have let my head drop and been disheartened, but I had given my all and been rewarded with an amazing ovation.

Jeff had asked me if I would do a Q&A afterwards and the questions came in thick and fast, which is just as much an indication of how much an audience enjoyed a performance as the amount of clapping. I was asked if I believed in Spirits, what was the probable solution to Edwin Drood, what was my favourite novel, what was Charles Dickens’ favourite novel, how did I go about learning the script and so on. Eventually Jeff brought the session to a close and everyone began to stand and gather their coats, and I stood at the door and chatted more as people left, the overwhelming reaction was positive, and everybody seemed to have enjoyed an amazing evening. One group, a party of four younger guests, introduced themselves and told me that they were the wine distributors who supplied the club, and they were all members too (Jeff had told me earlier that the club had suffered in the same way as the city, and he was trying to inject young blood into it). Would I care to join them with some wine, in the lounge downstairs? The chance to gently wind down after what had been quite an intense show was an offer I could hardly refuse. The company was excellent, as naturally were the wines. We sat and chatted for an hour, or so, and parted the best of new friends!

It was getting towards midnight when I returned to my room and so brought a fascinating day to an end

Return to Minneapolis

Tags

A Christmas Carol, Bill Bryson, Brit's Pub, Charles Dickens, Dodge Charger, Downton Abbey, Ebenezer Scrooge, Hertz Car Rental, Highclere Castle, Notes from a Big Country, Philadelphia, Steve McQueen, The Minneapolis Club

Friday would be another day of travel, as I made my way back from the East coast to the Midwest once more, and to my final destination of this part of the tour: Minneapolis.

Having had a coffee and completed Wordle, I opened the curtains to find that the skies were grey and depositing copious amounts of rain onto the ground, as the storm that had been promised for days made its way up from the south.

I had my breakfast in the lobby of the hotel, and then returned to my room to re-pack my case, which thanks to my diligence the day before was an easy job, just stuffing pairs of socks into my top hot and wrapping the thick scarf around the outside, so that it didn’t get crushed, and slipping it back into the space from which it had been lifted 24 hours before. I once again packed both of my costumes into the little roller bag and was ready to get on the road once more.

Before I set out on my journey, I spent some time connecting my phone to the car’s audio system, and was delighted to discover that on this model of Malibu my phone’s display would be shown on the large screen, meaning that navigation into Philadelphia would be much easier than it had been two days before when I had been trying to prop my phone up near to the gear shift, and hoping it wouldn’t fall onto the floor every time I took a curve. I was accompanied on my journey by the first practice session from the Brazilian Grand Prix, and also the audio book that I am currently listing to, Bill Bryson’s ‘Notes From a Big Country’. The journey took me onto I295, and along the route were ‘witty’ signs displayed on overhead gantries, designed presumably to attract the notice of drivers who had become blind to more traditional warnings: ‘SLOW DOWN. THIS AINT THUNDER ROAD’, ‘DONT BOOZE AND CRUISE’ and ‘BE A DEER, LOOK AFTER WILDLIFE’. All very laudable, but what if I had been looking up at the sign and chuckling to myself just as a deer ran out in front of me, meaning I didn’t have time to react?

After thirty minutes or so I was arriving on the outskirts of Philadelphia, and through the murk I could just about see the shadowy outline of the city skyline, bringing to mind Charles Dickens’ description in A Christmas Carol, ‘…and the houses opposite were mere phantoms.’ I skirted the spectral city and was soon pulling up at the Hertz Car Rental drop off. The wait for a shuttle bus was a long one, and by the time it arrived there was a quite a crowd wanting to board. A large crowd at the car rental office inevitably means a large crowd in the terminal, and I was glad that I had left plenty of time, for I was resigned to standing in line for a long time at security. Actually, my flight was departing from Terminal F, a much smaller satellite terminal, where the tiny planes that don’t require jetways depart from, so the queues were not too long. It was 12.15 when I cleared security and as the flight would be over three hours, I thought it would be good to get some lunch, so sat down to a burger and fries, before finding gate F14 (at least I hoped that was the gate number and not the plane we would be flying in) and sitting down with my fellow passengers until we were called to board. It was a very full flight, and we were all packed into to our little sardine can. As we taxied to the runway the rain lashed down ever harder outside and the captain warned us that it would be bumpy ride until we reached our cruising altitude above the clouds – and he was right. Once the wheels left the ground we bumped and tipped and dropped and soared in a way to remind a nervous passenger, and even a less nervous one, how very fragile an aircraft is when faced with the might of nature.

Being back on an American Airlines flight I was hoping that I may be able to find Ford v Ferrari again on the entertainment system so that I could finish it, but the choices had changed, or perhaps are just different on the smaller planes, so instead I watched the sheer tosh that is the second Downton Abbey film. It really is very silly, but it was lovely to see Highclere Castle, and to know that I will be performing there again in little over a month’s time.

Eventually we began our descent into Minneapolis/St Paul airport and touched down in a region I know very well and feel very at home in. Over two years I performed in the play ‘To Begin With’ in Minneapolis and lived in two apartment blocks throughout the rehearsal periods and the runs, meaning that I walked to grocery stores, strolled in the parks, went to the Art Museum, had Sunday breakfast in a little diner, and thoroughly enjoyed myself. One year Liz stayed with me, and on another occasion my brother Ian came and took some amazing production photographs of me playing Charles Dickens, complete with a specially made wig, (the wig was for me, by the way, not for Ian!) They were happy days, and it was great to be back.

I found my way to the Hertz garage and discovered that on this occasion I was allowed to choose my car from ‘The President’s Circle’ aisle, rather that the Gold member’s one, and this gave me a fantastic choice – I could have selected another convertible Mustang, like the one I had driven in September, but a convertible in a Minnesota November didn’t seem suitable, and in the end I decided to channel my inner Steve McQueen and slipped into the driver’s seat of a black Dodge Charger, which trembled and shook as I started the large engine.

The drive into the centre if the city took about 30 minutes, and the traffic was heavy, but there were occasions when I could accelerate hard, and the beast just leaped forward with a magnificent surge of acceleration which brought a big smile to my face.

My destination was the very exclusive Minneapolis Club in the heart of the city, where I will be performing on Saturday and Sunday. A few years ago, I performed in The Aster Cafe in the city, which was owned by a fine Pickwickian named Jeff Arundel, and Jeff is now the Managing Director of the club and was keen to have me preform in the sumptuous wood panelled elegance of the old building (the club was formed in 1907). Not only would I be performing at the club, but I was fortunate enough to be staying there as well. I gently guided the Charger into the club’s parking garage, and in no time was checked in and taking the elevator to the 4th floor. The Elevator itself, and I use the American term because it seemed such an American style, was tiny, with just room for my cases and me, and had a large rotary handle that, in former days, an attendant would have operated on behalf of the members and their guests.

When I had settled into my room, which was spacious and very well appointed, I drew a bath and luxuriated using some of the hand-made soap that had been given me back in Kansas City, and just felt a little bit spoiled and pampered. At seven o’clock I went out to dinner. Rather than availing myself of the club’s restaurant, I wanted to return to a regular haunt during my ‘To Begin With’ years, and that was to Brit’s Pub. I found walked the few blocks through the city and was delighted to discover that my navigational skills had not deserted me. Brit’s was bustling and busy, but I was shown to a seat in the upstairs room, and admired the portraits of the Queen, Churchill, various football teams and numerous Union Jacks, flags of St George, the Welsh and Scottish flags and plenty of other memorabilia. As a nod to home, I chose a Shepherd’s Pie, which was delicious.

It wasn’t late when I walked back to the club, perhaps 8.30, and the city’s buildings looked magnificent lit up against the night sky. It was cold, but not truly Minneapolis-cold. When I was here before it was February, and the temperatures were so far below zero as to make my beard freeze!

In the dark of the night, the old building nestled beneath the surrounding skyscrapers, bringing to mind another passage from A Christmas Carol, when Dickens describes Scrooge’s home: ‘He lived in chambers which had once belonged to his deceased partner. They were a gloomy suite of rooms, in a lowering pile of building up a yard, where it had so little business to be, that one could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it was a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other houses, and forgotten the way out again.’

I returned to my room and spent the rest of the evening watching television, before falling asleep. On Saturday I have the larger part of the day to myself, so will have the opportunity to indulge in some more nostalgia in Minneapolis.