Concorde, Covent Garden and Confession...

Dear Juliet

Risked the train going to London on the 18th (seats were like hard benches from the nineteen-thirties, complete with large spikes), but it was still warm in London town with the buzz of the city around me and opportunities at large.

This quote on the side of a train at Euston somewhat summed it up:

Helped an older lady find her way to Waterloo. She was a literary fan, told her she was sitting next to an author, made her day...

Henry Pordes had a new/old copy of Cannery Row (1945) in, the Tartt was still on the shelves and I saw The Usual Suspects!

Then I walked down towards Wyndham and Garrick theatres, and stumbled upon the one play in London I really did want to see.

And herein lies my confession.

I got a ticket for Aaron Sorkin's To Kill a Mockingbird. Royal Circle, F26.

And here's the thing, wherein lies the conscience of the king...

I know you're a stage actress at heart, and of course I'd have casually told anyone who asked that you love the tread of the boards and even the smell of the greasepaint. But as I considered the costs of the ticket and reminded myself of the once-in-a-lifetime scenario (coming up on sixty-two, September 4th), it was subtly borne in on me that, indeed, you really are a stage actress at heart and that you really do love the theatre.

And you couldn't be there.

I know you couldn't just hop on Concorde and cross the continents. But it was a sunny London day and, to paraphrase the classic Zombies song, you weren't there...

And I'm sad about that 😢.

I did go to see Mockingbird, yes. Most people turned their phones off, I don't think Calpurnia (whose role had been enlarged) would have been quite that sassy, Dill seemed like a bit of an idiot and (courtesy of Breitbart) Bob Ewell was well fleshed-out.

I think you'd have liked it.

I got a couple of good candid shots. David Irving and disciple outside the National Portrait Gallery), and a young lady asleep behind George Washington (I wonder what he'd think of things nowadays?)

Explored Soho, which seems to be full of Romanian good time girls, found the legendary Bar Italia on Frith Street and just happened to be sitting at the stage door when the stars of Beetlejuice came out!

The equally legendary Ronnie Scott's Jazz Club was on the other, sunnier, side of the street...

And Spiderman saw me off!

Better seat on the train back, too. Glad I've been able to share this with you...

Love,

James