Confessions of a Wino

I went to the opening night of Les Puddings Noir (sic) at Manchester’s Library Theatre.  I have seen so many good productions there.  For such a small theatre it is so innovative and interesting, but this was an amateur dramatic company (MAD).  However, whilst expectations were low, I had a funny feeling that it might be a laugh.

Many have tried and failed to make fun of Lancashire haute-cuisine, and the black pudding from Bury used to be the butt of Bill Oddie, uhm, I mean the butt of jokes by Bill Oddie.  Butt nowadays you can find this modern day delicacy in restaurants the world over – Ecky Thump!

Because it was the first night of an amateur production, of course the audience was full of family and friends.  A credits VT rolled to announce the play with rapturous applause for every actor (many were kids).  As complete neutrals, we thought it would be fun to whoop and holler at random names.  I wonder if it spooked them – there were a couple of ropey performances.  But on the whole, the production was a stupendous hit.  At the curtain the crowd went wild and rightly so.  My sides ached, and my eyes watered, and my black pudding swelled.  I predict that this will be a worldwide hit one day soon, and movie rights are likely to be worth more than the Full Monty.

Funnily enough, a local (Bury) butcher had taken the opportunity to give away free black puddings – step forward Chadwick’s Original.  Tonight I sampled the black pudding (sliced, gently fried in olive oil with an egg) and it was as good as the show named after it.  The best black pudding I have ever eaten and all the tastier for being slightly, albeit accidentally, burnt.

So choosing a wine to go with it was a problem.  I have been on a world tour of Pinot Noirs recently, to the boredom of many, and I have been thinking of moving on.  I have a secret desire to try a few Rieslings but I know so little about the grape.

I like the idea that the 1997 Rheingau Kabinett I found in the fridge was only 9%.  Very light and drinkable.  I also found it fruity and with a sweetness that complements black pudding in the way that a well delivered line sweetens a sour script.

Les Puddings Noir was mostly well delivered.  The two teenage mums (played by Alana Thornton and the awesome Danielle Wrigley) were only marginally eclipsed by James Creer’s hilarious French maid.  The writing was the real star, though.

We Will Rock You was a decent show, albeit mostly performed by under-studies on the wet Saturday afternoon we were in the audience.  Fortunately it was dry inside the theatre and, whilst the programme (£4) did not reveal the storyline, the show turned out to be set in the long distant future and was a McLeanesque retrospective on the day the music died…or didn’t…yawn!

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I’ve just returned from the opening night of the Opera North production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Shakespeare’s play reconfigured as an opera by melody dodger, Benjamin Britten, whose proud boast seems to be never to have written an opera in a major key.

I normally love Opera North (full disclosure, I know one of the chorus quite well), but I am not a Britten fan.  A Midsummer Night’s Dream reminded me of all the negative aspects of the earlier, and otherwise superior, Peter Grimes.  Incessant horns and strings in deliberate discord, keeping the audience on its edge in the same way Hammer House of Horror films used organ fugues to build tension.  Britten never seems to let go, though.  It was like sitting on a train, delayed because of a fatality on the line.  One feels sorry for the victim (or cast in this case) but I just wanted to get home as quickly as possible.  Listening to a gauntlet scratching up and down a blackboard would have been more entertaining, and arguably, more musical.

The humour (what little existed) was 50 years old and could probably only have been written by a tortured homosexual of the repressed mid 20th century.  There were clearly a few from that era in the audience, occasionally chortling and even applauding.  I watched with the same cringingly embarrassed feeling of watching a Carry On film from the Beatles epoch.  Fortunately, to avoid total boredom, I was simply able to stare up at the awesome ceiling of Leeds Grand Theatre, the home of Opera North, and surely one of the best theatres in the world for architectural detail.

Just round the corner from the Grand Theatre is Lounge Bar and Grill, and that is where we chose to eat before the performance.  With 25% off, the bill for two with a bottle of wine came to only £40 plus service.  Even for Leeds that is cheap.

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Last night I went to see a bit of Oscar Wilde.  Born in Dublin, educated and excelled at Trinity College, and Magdelen Colledge Oxford, he then observed in close quarter London Society with his acerbic wit, before being buried in Paris at the tender age of 46.

I didn’t see him in the flesh, even the rotting, grave-sodden sort.  I merely remembered him through one of his plays “An Ideal Husband”.  Amongst the many lessons, most extraordinary above all, was my realisation that political scandals have been around since even before my forefather’s forefather (Great Grandfather, then?) was chased from the office of Mayor of Wimbledon in the 1930s.  This play was written in 1895 when Wilde was about my age, and concerns the dilemma presented when a senior politician is confronted by his secret and corrupt past, in a black-mail attempt.  Does the evil Mrs Cheveley succeed in extorting her demands?  You will have to read/watch the play yourself.  Whilst doing so, you will not be able to resist a snigger or two at how Wilde’s observations are all too relevant to today’s society.

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I went to see Private Lives, the excellent Noël Coward play, at the equally excellent Library Theatre, St Peter’s Square, Manchester.  So needing sustenance to prevent my guests having to suffer the slings and arrows of my outrageous belly rumbles, we pulled in to Gio’s on Lower Mosley St, opposite the Midland Hotel.

There is a brilliant pre-theatre menu at £8.95 for two courses.  I picked the Insalata Caprese and the Penne Tagliatelli alla Francesca.

Here’s a tip.  When you order a pasta dish, always mix and match the pasta with the sauce.

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