I’ve allowed this blog to go fallow since my daughter Lana was born. Partly because I’ve just been enjoying her, partly because of everything that’s happened since – my creative writing masters at Goldsmiths, which I started at nine months’ pregnant, COVID, lockdown, and an extension that to our house, which has changed our lifestyle incredibly (- darlings, we now have a built-in hot tub).
Suffice it to say, life’s improved considerably, for me at least. I am no longer run from pillar to post chasing my tail, and a million other cliches that applied to working women pre-pandemic. A lot of this I have spoken about in a book I’m writing, called The Nanny, which begins with the relationship between two women who share childcare duties, but ends with the government micromanaging people’s lives during the crisis that ensues.
Will it get published? Who knows, but it’s been keeping me busy and focused – and most of all, happy! Which is far cry from how I felt ‘before’.
Either way, it’s left little time for documenting life’s trials and tribulations here.
So it was with a degree of surprise that I received an invitation to review the theatre premier of one of my daughter’s favourite books, not least because theatres have mainly been shut for months, but also that I hardly consider myself a blogger these days. So it was an opportunity I couldn’t turn down and if it nudges me into resurrecting the blog, well, it’s all good.
Another reason I’ve failed to keep up with the blogging habit is, well, Lana’s not like my other two, who have now largely retreated into teenaged miasma – Jonah, emerging tall and eloquent, with some interesting friends, is still largely addicted to Geometry Dash, while kitteney Ava- well, she came out as a furry, and spends her spare time making things from foam and fur that leave her bedroom looking like she’s skinned Ludo.
Lana, well, she is a joy, partly because she talked early, and is now engaging and diverting company, but also because I had more money for childcare, so I’ve not had to do nearly so much of the slog this time, but also because Tom has been around to help for the last year. Either way, there’s little sign of ASD – yet, and this is something to be grateful for. Despite the brilliance of my other two, it was, I’ll admit, a challenge to raise them.
Thus goes the potted history. And so to yesterday’s extravaganza.
It must be noted that I haven’t been into central London since I last cleared my desk in March 2020, and so my daughter’s experience of the world has been so far, so gentle, a small rhythm of childminders and forest school, she hasn’t been carted into the round of clubs and classes my older ones were subjected to (to no or little avail, I may add), and so going on the tube and experiencing a hot and busy London street were things that may have overwhelmed her. And yet, dressed in a spotty red jumpsuit and ladybird hat handed down from her cousin, sporting a really quite spectacular ladybird dress I’d bought for her birthday tucked in my back pack along with the usual snacks and wipes, she took in all in her stride (although she mainly travelled by scooter).
We arrived at the Palace Theatre to a mess of building work marring Charing Cross Road. Luckily, it being the premier, we were also greeted by an arch of balloons, which caught her attention and, after putting on the ladybird dress to wild acclaim from passers by, some shenanigans with the Covid app and locating my virtual ticket, we were able to take our seats three rows from the front (at a Covid-safe distance from the performer) in a thankfully air-conditioned building (it was pushing 30 outside).
Of course, then we needed to find the loo, which wasn’t easy in the beautiful old Palace building. But no matter, we regained our seats in time for the performance, which was by Lana’s own estimation, fantabulous.
Julia Donaldson’s rhyming book about a fine prize cow and two bad men, lends itself well to the stage, with plenty of giggles as the farmer drags an usher from the audience to take the part of Lanky Len. They proceed to create some convincing animals from stage props before launching into the story of how the thieves hatch a plan to steal the fine prize cow, locating themselves in the dark by the various noises the animals make.
We reached a rather sticky point in the middle where the usher and the farmer, now dressed as the two bad men, looked a little scary, and Lana said she wanted to go home, but, now on my lap (in full ladybird regalia) she was persuaded to stay with a mint humbug I found in my backpack. Of course, it all turned out alright thanks to the clever and hitherto silent ladybird, who foiled the thieves plot with a clever plan of her own.
Spoiler alert, the cow is saved and the ladybird saves the day. But what really made this charming and entertaining little performance – which at around an hour is just perfect for shorter attention spans, like mine (Reader, I’m on HRT!) was the joy and humility of the performers, who were clearly so delighted to be back on stage, and the excitement of the parents in the audience, who were clearly so grateful to be doing something with their little ones that the enthusiasm for the whole spectacular was palpable.
Indeed, as we left the theatre and removed the ladybird outfit in the humidity of a familiar semi-clogged London street, the excitement thronged in the air. Summer is here, and so were the people – all dressed to the nines in their best summer dresses and spilling out of the cafes and bars of the now-pedestrianised Old Compton Street, where we sat afterwards for a coffee and a cheeky glass of wine.
Everyone was so happy to be out! So it’s with rosy tinted spectacles I had the chance to view the brave new world of post-Covid London, with my lovely little lady in tow. I can’t be the only one to have felt metamorphosed by the pandemic and not, thankfully, for the worse. Everything, however tiny and small, can now be looked at through new eyes – the realisation we can’t take the little things for granted is perhaps the silver lining for which we all should be grateful.
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