American television

Last night was the last of the season of Boston Legal. I have been following that programme with interest as one of the best programmes to come out of America since M*A*S*H.

I love the acting and the scriptwriting. I know it is ludicrous but it doesn’t pretend to be anything else. It is a great drama full of comedy and issues and, unusual in American dramas, satire.

I also enjoy House, Brothers and Sisters, and Desperate Housewives.There is a glossy glamour to all of these shows which combine some good acting and assured directing.

Hugh Laurie is a wonderfully cantankerous old man, and his American accent isn’t too bad either – someone I know recently expressed surprise that he was British – but then she is 22 and has no memory of his comedy excellence from A Bit of Fry and Laurie onwards.

I know that Brothers and Sisters is emotionally manipulative, and yet I am prepared to be seduced by this big dysfunctional family with their overwhelming problems and their underpinning love for each other. I can even tolerate Calista Flockhart, who isn’t as annoyingly irritating in this as she usually is.

And I could watch Rob Lowe ad infinitum – I have been a fan ever since my teenaged days of watching The Outsiders and believing that nobody understood me. I was horrified recently when my mum confessed to having a thing for him too – it’s just not right to fancy the same blokes as your mum! I told her to leave me Rob Lowe and Robert Carlyle; she can have Robert Redford and Sean Connery.

I can even persuade my husband to watch Desperate Housewives, although he pretends to watch it under sufferance. He is not so secretly hoping that Eva Longoria will get her kit off and Teri Hatcher will keep hers on. I recently read that Calista Flockhart auditioned for the part of Susan Mayer, but lost the role to Teri Hatcher. Interesting…

Horror of all horrors, I have just taken the on-line test to see which Deperate Housewife I am, and it turns out I am Susan! Best not tell my husband.

Devils review

There is a review for our play of The Devils on the Lumiere website.

You can now read what someone else thought of our demonic possession, although the reviewer mentions that the play was set in 'murderous medieval England', when in fact it is seventeenth century France - where there were tens of thousands of people persecuted and killed for their religion.

During this period, there were about sixty people murdered for similar offences in England. This is a big distinction, as it reveals the terror and the pervasive evil of the times. However, of course when referring to religious persecution, one death is one too many.

Food and drink in Auckland

When we were in Auckland for the weekend, we went out to dinner at a Chinese restaurant. A strange place, but it was full of Chinese folk; always a good sign. The fact that we couldn't read the menus - all in Chinese characters - was a bit daunting, but we pressed ahead and they did have an English translation.

As soon as we sat down we were brought bowls of steaming soup. We tried to explain that we'd not ordered anything yet but were assured it was free. It was also grey and very watery, probably just the drippings from the duck fat tray, but actually quite tasty, especially as I was still nursing a hangover and the others were recovering from their race. We also had a pot of red tea delivered to our table, which was free too and 'better than green tea', or so we were told.

The food that we did pay for was very tasty. Spaz was a hungry monster and in refuelling mode he shovelled up the remnants of anything anyone couldn't eat - hence he had a tasty sweet and sour pork with black bean sauce and deep fried noodles - an authentic Chinese combination.

His hunger pangs were killed off with a few pints of Monteiths Black, so we didn't stop off at the demonic pie cart on our way back to the backpackers. I saw this place the next day in the light, and I can imagine that the demonic aspect is well and truely deserved.

And here is a picture of his favourite street in Auckland - no prizes for guessing why!

Weekend in Auckland

We went to Auckland this weekend so Spaz could compete in the National Age Group Duathlon Championships. He ran and cycled his way to a silver medal, of which we're very proud. All the Wellington athletes did well and it was a grand day out.

Auckland's not too bad either. She's scrubbed up okay, since the America's Cup. The Viaduct Basin actually looks quite nice these days; a lot finer than the impression it left when we first arrived nearly twelve years ago.

We went down to the waterfront to look at the boats - what is it about boys and boats, no matter what age they are? What fun it is to imagine yourself aboard one of these floating gin palaces, cruising around the harbours and the islands in fine weather with the sun glistening off the water. Of course it wouldn't be so appealing in a howling gale when you haven't seen land for days, but this is just a dream, remember.






So which one would you have?

Final night

Well, The Devils is over and I feel slightly bereft. I keep getting a strange feeling approaching panic as I think that I should be somewhere, doing something, and then I remember that it is all over - for now.

I met so many great people and renewed some old friendships. I just love theatre people and doing shows is so much fun - all these people come together from different backgrounds and combine to produce an ephemeral work of art that means so much to the peole involved and can never be duplicated. I hope to stay in touch with as many of these folk as possible - you know who you are!

I learned so much from my fellow cast and crew members, led by Phil Mann who was a colossus of a director and one of the best I have ever worked with. Many thanks to all involved, and to all the audience who came to see it. I am now going to attempt to catch up on my sleep and empty my mind of some of those weird lines. Croak!

Ballet costumes

Last month the very beautiful and very talented Kate Venables (pictured front, rehearsing Banderillero - photo by Maarten Holl) took us on a tour of the Royal New Zealand Ballet (RNZB) headquarters at St James Theatre in Wellington.

When I was a little girl I used to want to be a dancer, despite the fact that I was clearly never going to have the grace, poise and slender strength of these amazing athletes – my father reinforced this by calling me ‘the sugar plum elephant’ each time I not-so-nimbly pirouetted down the stairs.

It’s partly the costumes that attract me. They’re so beautiful and so practical, having to withstand the rigours of vigorous activity while looking simply exquisite. I thought this was a perfect opportunity to get a peek behind the scenes, and I spied upon an entire room for making costumes, where materials, threads, and silent sewing machines wait on stand-by ready to spring into action.

Kate showed us that dress from Cinderella – the white satin tutu designed by Tracy Grant Lord studded with about 60,000 small, sparkling Swarovski crystals in a delicate rose design. It is shown here worn by Katie Hurst-Saxon in a photo by Rob Kitchin.

Kate also showed us a jacket and explained that there are three settings of hooks and eyes so that it will fit whichever principal is dancing the role. Sometimes the part doesn’t necessarily go to the ‘best’ dancer, but the one who fits the costume, although this isn’t too much of an issue as many of the dancers are equally talented, and equally tiny!

The costumes for Romeo and Juliet are being worked on at the moment. The costume budget for a major show is about $70,000, so it pays to be able to reuse things. The RNZB owns the performance rights to certain shows – like Romeo and Juliet, and Swan Lake – that they put on periodically; by the third time they might actually make money on one.

Kate also showed us the shoe cupboard and explained how dancers try all sorts of methods to soften the pointes of their ballet shoes. These are made from layers upon layers of cardboard, and the dancers bend them back and forth, whack them with hammers, soak them in water – anything to mould them to their feet and attempt to make them more comfortable. Dancers have a limited number of shoes, so when they have got them the way they want them; they write their name on the pair they have individually customised.

The shoes hurt and pinch when they dance. Many dancers get foot infections – the fiery red fungus creeps between their toes and can spread up their legs. When they finish a show their shoes can be full of blood and pus, and all the while they smile and look pretty. It is such a tortuous art form!

Despite all the back-stage horrors, the façade that gets presented to the public is magnificent and beautiful. I see that the RNZB are auctioning off some of their costumes from Queen’s Wharf in the last weekend of June. Even if you’re not interested in buying anything, I recommend you get down and have a look, inviting a little make-believe and glamour into your life.

Rhubarb crumble

Last night we had a rare night in, so we curled up on the sofa with the cat and a bottle of pinot noir, watching cheesy dramas (Robin Hood and Desperate Housewives) while the wind and rain howled and hurled outside.

On the menu was Lancashire hotpot and rhubarb crumble. I love rhubarb crumble, and it is my husband’s favourite dish. Okay, so I know that to some people rhubarb is ‘war food’ but I admire its honest simplicity and its ubiquitous durability. My husband laughs that he had never eaten ‘posh people’s food’ – avocados; olives; cherry tomatoes; guavas – until he met me. But he had always eaten rhubarb.

My granddad used to grow it in the garden. We would ‘help’ him to dig over the vegetable patch when we were children. I was easily distracted by the worms and the archaeological finds I made. I was convinced I had discovered treasure once when I slammed a spade into one of my brother’s toy soldiers, buried during some long-forgotten military campaign.

And crumble – well, it’s just edible perfection, really isn’t it? It has to be made with butter and the texture as you roll it between your fingers is satisfying to the soul before you even eat it. I’ve never been fond of pastry – it’s too fiddlesome and sticks to things when it shouldn’t. My hands are never the right temperature to mould it and then roll it out, and it just never looks right. But crumble – well, any fool can make that!

Rhubarb with strawberries or ginger or coconut or orange peel – but rhubarb every time. And then the addition of cream (preferably double) or icecream (Kapiti gingernut is a current favourite). I’m not a crème brulee or a tiramisu girl. I’m not interested in pavlova or pannecotta – but I’ll take the rhubarb crumble for an effortlessly sincere taste of home.

I used a recipe from the BBC Food website, and the above image is from the kitchen gardens website.