We are the stars' tennis balls...

Thursday saw the trip to see the Duchess of Malfi at the Royal with schulefolk. This involved a combination of new experiences, several of which I shall elaborate on, here:

The first of these was being driven by Jess. Jess being the sort of person who, now she has the ability to drive, wants to drive all the time, almost as though simply to prove she can, has been offering lifts left, right and centre over the past few months, but this was the first time I had taken her up on the offer. Luckily she was also picking Ellie up, so the hurdle of her finding her way to my house was easily jumped. Getting to the theatre itself, however, was another kettle of fish.

Now, not being a qualified driver myself, it is probably not my place to say, but I don't think I've ever been driven by someone so inclined to shouting while driving. Some drivers shout abuse from their windows, others tell their passengers to pipe down, some even shout at the radio as they drive, but Jess, Jess shouted at her car, or herself, or both. Though her driving itself was impeccable (this coming from a girl who thought she had broken the thing after stalling twice in as many minutes) the scenario itself was pretty amusing.

The second new occurrence, which made me feel (rightly) like one on the cusp of adulthood, was the opportunity of sidling up to the bar and asking, suave as you like, whether I could please order some drinks to be delivered at the interval. Sure, I didn't request champagne on ice, or a half-crate of cordon blanc, but it felt dashed professional getting a reciept and later coming out of a packed theatre to find my coke, ice and lemon-slice awaiting me. :D

The play itself was pretty darned good. Very religious, very symbolic and quite dramatic to boot! There were bits of Caravaggio painting here and there, and a little group of singers chucking madrigals left right and centre - my favourite of which was the counter-tenor (i.e. practically castrati man) who could sing higher than I've ever seen a man sing in my life. The chaps playing Bosola and Ferdinand were fairly dashing, and ridiculously tall, and the acting was superb, even if they did fluff the occasional like (*cough*Duchess*cough*)

Overall, though, beautiful - I have had Morro Lasso in my head ever since, and now have the really amusing image of Georgie dressed as the pope, as per her plan for my birthday shindig.