What I like about London is that there is always something new to notice. Even in areas that you thought you were familiar with. I have lived here for almost twenty years, but there are still nice little surprises round every corner.
I had my last ever gig at the Arts Theatre tonight - it's closing down to become a hotel next week. I am a little bit sad about this as I have really enjoyed doing my shows there for the last couple of years, but they're opening a new venue and hopefully it will be as good. But still it seems a shame to be getting rid of a great medium sized theatre, which there aren't many of, to build a hotel which there seem to be enough of already. I shan't be staying there anyway. Mainly because I have a house in London and it would be a bit daft.
Anyway, I arrived a little bit early for the show and so went round the corner for a coffee. I wanted a frappe latte which in this particular Caffe Nero were kept in the glass display case under the till. As I passed them I thought that they were behind glass and I'd have to ask the barista to get me one, but as I stood waiting for someone to serve me I looked again and thought that actually it was a shelf with no glass cover and that I could reach in and get my own. I tried to do so, and like a bird that doesn't understand the concept of a window, I discovered that there it was actually a closed glass covered shelf after all. The pretty young girl behind me saw my foolishness and explained that I had to ask the barista for the iced coffees. She clearly thought I was an old and confused man. Which rather put paid to the small part of my brain that had recognised her as attractive and was thinking I should start gearing up to ask her to marry me.
As it turned out the cafe had run out of ice, so I had a skinny latte instead. My humiliation had been for nothing.
I sat outside with my coffee, enjoying the relatively warm evening and looking at the slowly darkening blue sky. I looked around at the buildings opposite me. The large corner building that included one of the exits for Leicester Square tube, had a elaborate burgundy coloured facade and I noticed that directly opposite me, above a tiny doorway fish and chip shop was a decorative plaque proclaiming that this was no 21 and bearing the name of "J Wisden and Compy", with a picture of some stumps, a couple of bats and a ball. I had never seen this before. Clearly that part of the building had once housed the offices of the
famous cricketing almanac. An office right in the heart of London - how successful it must have once been.
But now the building had presumably been colonised by number 20 next door and then the doorway turned into this fish and chip and muffin shop. It seemed to say a lot about the changing face of London, that this once great organisation had become a fast food shop. I suspect W G Grace walked through that doorway, not realising that in a few decades where he was standing would be some chip fat covered men selling overpriced slices of pizza to guileless tourists.
I didn't think it was necessarily a bad thing. In a way it's a bad thing that a book dedicated to the statistics of a quite dull game could have afforded such a prime piece of real estate. But I loved the juxtaposition. I loved the fact that the old sign was still there. And I loved the fact that I had never spotted this in all the times I have passed by Leicester Square, in too much of a hurry to look up at what was around me.
According to their website Wisden is now based in Hampshire. And quite right to. There is no need for it to have such a central office (though I suppose it's possible they still have a room upstairs). It is still going after 150 years, even if its office is not.
Don't you think it's cool the way that London changes and yet that the evidence of what was once there can still remain? I do.
The final gig at the Arts, (alas in the cellar bar, rather than in the theatre upstairs) went really well. Still too long of course and still some way to go, but as I travelled home my mind was buzzing with new ideas for it and I think that once I've got it sorted out it could be twice as good as it is. Everyone I have spoken to seems to think it is a big step on and have maybe been slightly surprised at the sweetness and openness of the show. I think what is probably good about it is that by writing this piece I have genuinely had some moments of self-realisation, considering my life in a way I haven't done before and overthrowing some assumptions I had made about why I was like I am.
These revelations keep on coming to me which will hopefully make the show increasingly layered and complex. I am very much looking forward to Edinburgh and seeing how it is received. It would seem bizarre if this unusual level of appreciation of previews did not translate into good reviews and houses at the Fringe. But I have fallen victim to hubris before, so must steel myself. You can book tickets
here. There are tickets for all days available from
the Underbelly. Hope you can make it.
Oh almost forgot. I wasted a valuable hour this morning, fittingly enough, listening to the Robin Cooper's
Timewaster Phone calls. The one about
The Uncle's Birthday Party is particularly satisfying. The bit about the cake of a mirror almost had me hyperventilating. Very funny.
