With younger daughter's birthday party in less than a week, I'm battling back the panic with a clever combination of small accomplishments and major procrastination. However, finding a focus for younger daughter's Saturday since her tutor moved away is a weekly must. This week we decided to try one of the artistic offerings at the local cinema. I've noticed them in the paper for the past couple of years. For about twice what you'd pay for a movie ticket, you can go see a sort of one-time-only screening of a recent production of an opera or ballet from New York or London. We decided to take the leap with the Royal Ballet's production of Frederick Ashton's ballet Tales of Beatrix Potter
Younger daughter is thoroughly familiar with almost all the stories, so we set out in the oppressive humidity (which, sadly, isn't nearly as bad as it's going to get) via a thankfully air-conditioned bus to the air-conditioned multiplex at World Exchange in downtown Ottawa (and it better damn well be, at those prices). The higher price gets you greeted at the door of the designated showroom by one of the older ushers, who hands you a programme. We entered to find a sea of white heads. No complaints there; I'm rapidly joining their ranks and they tend to be more considerate to fellow-attendees. To my relief, a number of children, all girls of course, arrived closer to the screening time. This is supposed to be in high definition, but these shows are usually shown in Silver City which has the big bucks equipment, so I didn't notice anything fabulous about the clarity.
Younger daughter was entranced, and I enjoyed the ballet in-jokes: Jemima Puddleduck departs the stage like a combination Dying Swan/Odette; Pigling Bland and his partner use moves from the Sleeping Beauty pas-de-deux. Oh, and the steeper ticket price also gets you an intermission and a bathroom break which is a welcome thing, considering real ballet-goers aren't usually eating popcorn and sipping on pop during the show. It's Sleeping Beauty in a couple of weeks; maybe we'll go.
Now, wouldn't it be lovely if they decided to film David Tennant's Hamlet like this? I understand it's sold out...
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8 comments:
Dear Sharon,
Thank you for your kind words! I was much appreciated in the making of them. I am deeply moved with flattered sincerity.
As for littleradge, the answer to your question is, perhaps maybe no. Our relationship I suppose becomes more complex by the moment which can be heartwrenching at odd times, but, no, he is not frightened. We will get on in due time.
Cheers,
-JRD
You get an interesting, if puzzling, class of spam in your comments box.....
I see no spam in my comments box, just a supportive note from my fellow-blogger Jonas ("JoDick") Dickinson who, I believe, calls everyone "Sharon"....
Dear Sharon,
My finest threads to you as a best interested party of three. I have, of late, only taken identity as a measure of honourance to the inflammable littleradge, whom I adorate with much specification of qualities. As much as his lack of acknowledgement in terms for my dear person cut deep as marrow, I do prefer honestly that it is as similar as a flame in remembrance towards a forgotten poet of centuries.
Is he in offensive office? I do mean to lark about in anticipation. I hope his unregard for me is sheltered as I merely wish to deliver my indulgences. I do not tread on toes - merely, in want of news shoes.
In sincerest apologies I express my lengths. In glow of my emotional state the most of all words were necessary. Perhaps incoherence is the father of enjoyment!
Cheers, your adulation,
-JoDick
Well he certainly calls me Sharon, which is rude of him when we've never met.
Dearest Jo-Dick,
"Measurance of honourance" or no, if the delightful and usually even-tempered littleradge should turn out to be inflammable, you might want to stay on the right side of the law. (Perhaps you could choose the image of a delightful, inflammable dead person? How about the forgotten poets of centuries? They tend to not be able to litigate...)
Best regards,
Un-Sharon
Dear Sharon,
I am most ill. It is of a painful diet that I hope to represent to you my most infractious wishes. You know that I am always of a most of available nature, and would with never ending potency remain free-hearted, and light-spirited. This is fair.
In my overdue recriminations I am most taxed. I feel if I am working in the party of the IRA because the people's have forcefully placed their hard battled money in my pocket! This is not so!
So in importance, I delegated my honourance in hindsight of your motivations. I do hope that littleradge remains stoicismly featured. In only utmost regards.
Please accept my ginger condolences.
Cheers,
- Jonas Dickinson
Dearest Jo-Dick,
Your new profile picture is an impressive example of poetic justice and accomplishes the triple-task of honouring littleradge, David Tennant, and my friend Rob who I believe featured this portrait somewhere on his eclectic and informative blog.
I hope your illness, whether of body or spirit you do not say, abates, and you may forge ahead in your artistic and benevolent endeavours in wholesomeness.
Best wishes from
the un-Sharonish Persephone
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