All the World's a Stage...

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His act being seven ages." - William Shakespeare

One of the best things about our little, top floor hotel room was its light blocking shades which made sleeping in less of a wistful pipe dream and more of a roll-over-and-snuffle reality.  After our late night Indian feast, Jenny and I had decided to take full advantage.

It was closer to noon by the time we ambled toward the coffin size elevator (drolly announced by a nasal-toned british voice "doooors closing"), down through the marble lobby and out into the summer sunshine.  We had already had a pint in the local pub, the Bree Louise, the day before and were anxious to try put the pub grub we had heard so much about.

Now I admit I would define myself as a closet meat-and-potatoes girl.  Let me just say that the my pub lunch, called Bangers and Mash, was one of the best things I have ever eaten.  And if you know me, that is saying something.  Fat juicy, roasted sausages over creamy mashed potatoes with a thick flavorful gravy. Mmmmmm.  Just thinking about it....

Jenny ordered a tasty Chicken, Leek and Ham Pie with flaky, layered pastry lid and a savory stew inside.  Apparently the Bree Louise specializes, and has won awards for, their handmade pies.  They also have a huge selection of ciders and ales.  We are both big fans.

Our bellies full, and a pint on board making the afternoon seem lazy and relaxed we headed back to our little London garret.  After soaking up some British television, and considering our options, I headed out the door in search of the Churchill War Rooms, the underground bunker where the irascible World War Two Prime Minister had planned and prosecuted the war effort and roused the people to "Let us therefore brace ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, 'This was their finest hour.' ."

Though the weather was sunny and warm, it took several buses and a good, sweaty ten minute walk through Trafalgar Square, dodging pigeons and performing artists, and the chaotic traffic of Charing Cross to reach where my google maps said it was.  And all I could see was the broad, sandy expanse of the Royal Horse Guards Parade grounds.

Twenty minutes of wandering through crunchy gravel, circling steaming horse apples and waiting for a uniformed guardsman to break away from the Chinese tourist monopolizing his time I had almost given up.  It was getting late and I remember thinking that Jenny was wise when she decided to stay in to be rested for our night out at the theatre.

At a nearby park I admired a rambunctious English garden set next to a lake and a tile roofed cottage.  Kids ran happily by and families fed a gaggle of geese.  Finally, I asked a man if he knew where the War Rooms were and he pointed to a small, dark tarp hanging over the corner of a building about a block away.  Squinting, I could see a small line of people waiting to get in.

Well, I was already there so why not.  It would just be a quick visit.  I met a group of college students from Texas in line who chatted away about their exchange course with Oxford University.  Finally, I was out of the sun and descending into the cool, quiet corridors underneath

Whitehall's Treasury building.

I highly recommend this sight next time you are in London.  In August of 1945, after the surrender of Japan, the people working in the bunker tidied up their books and maps, leaving the telegrams and markers in place, and left for good.  It was preserved just like that.  It is fascinating.

Churchill, and his staff of military and civilian advisers ate down there, especially during the German bombing of London.  You see the bed he took his famous short naps in.  Really neat.

I made it back to the hotel just in time to shower and change for our night out on the town.  This was the reason we were here.  Benedict Cumberbatch starring in Hamlet.  I had bought the tickets over a year before ( the season sold out in a few hours).  As you can imagine, we both felt an undercurrent of excitement and anticipation.  Dressed to the nines, we had our friendly London cabbie snap our
picture.

The theatre we were going to was part of a huge art complex, with restaurants, concert halls and galleries, called the Barbican Centre.  It's architecture is very modern and bright accents of orange and blue decorate it's wide, marble halls.  We arrived early to have time to explore the centre and Jenny said "let's splurge on the fancy restaurant overlooking the courtyard fountains" and I gave in way too easily to that suggestion.

I was so glad I did.  We had a table by the window.  We each chose the pre-theatre prix fix menu.  It was a very special meal.  I started with a Gin cured salmon salad with shaved fennel and orange.  Jenny had an apple and walnut salad.  We both chose the Sea Trout fillet for our main course.  Jenny hummed her approval of the Lemon Posset (custard) with strawberries and shortbread she devoured for dessert.







But, of course, the play's the thing.

It was one of the most amazing performances I have ever seen.  The production had a modern bent to its style, costumes and set design, but the language of Shakespeare still flowed in all it's timeless beauty.  They took some chances too.

The play opened with the famous 'To be or not to be' soliloquy that is traditionally in the third act, signifying Hamlet's mental and emotional breakdown.  To do it at the beginning is daring.  I don't know how an actor can begin the play already in that emotional space, able to draw from the kind of raw despair that Hamlet feels.

Benedict did though.  I believed him.  Everyone in that theatre was right there with him as he sorted through his murdered father's personal effects.  It was an electrifying performance.  The whole cast was amazing.  We especially enjoyed the characters of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

The other memorable part of the night was more of a shock.  A few scenes into the first act, two of the main characters, Polonius and Ophelia, were in the middle of an intense dialogue.  Suddenly, the older man playing Polonius hesitated and called off stage for a line.  I knew that this was only their third day of previews (opening night was actually weeks away), but I had never seen anyone do that in a professional theatre, especially of this caliber.

As the stunned audience watched, Polonius tried to get his mouth to say the line, helped by the actor playing Ophelia, but couldn't.  He was obviously having problems breathing and staggered over to a table on stage.  They stopped the play and the stage manager came out to help him off and the curtain came down.

Eventually, the director came out and explained that the actor had been taken to the hospital, and his understudy, who had to carry the script with him, though he rarely looked at it, would take over.  The play went on....and they were all brilliant.

At the end, after taking their curtain calls, Benedict Cumberbatch came out with the understudy who had performed so wonderfully in the clutch.  He told the audience that Jim, the actor who had taken ill, would be alright and then announced, with a big smile and his arm slung over the understudy Nigel's shoulder, that it was 'this man's birthday today!'  The whole theatre sang the new Polonius Happy Birthday.  All part of the same theatre community.

What a great night.