The woman in the row behind me had a plan. ‘If I win the lottery, I’d like to buy this theatre.’ I feigned interest. ‘For my daughter,’ she continued. ‘She’s a drama student. I’d spruce it up a bit.’ It’s true that the Theatre Royal, Margate, would benefit from a fairy godmother. It was built in 1787, with pretty plasterwork and elegant, if inconveniently placed, columns, but popularity spoilt it, because, in the 1870s, it was barbarously enlarged.
How glorious it would be to restore it and create a proper entrance and foyer, making a restaurant and studio theatre. In the meantime, it has something of the charm of a village hall, slightly rundown, but cosy. The usher pops into the street during the interval. ‘Five minutes to go,’ he says to the five of us who are there.
We’d come to the touring production of Shakespeare’s Globe’s Romeo and Juliet. What was actually performed was Romeo and Juli-ette, with the stress on last syllable. For the thespian friend who had bought the tickets, this was a trial. ‘Isn’t anyone taught to speak Shakespeare now?’ he lamented at half time. Thereafter, my ears were plagued by the emphases that fell on apparently random words—sometimes prepositions or conjunctions. Another task for the lady in the row behind, if she wins the lottery.
Spectator: Dead, dead, dead
Lucy Baring doesn’t have green fingers.
Country mouse celebrates spring
Country mouse revels in the joys of the new season.
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'The city has always held an important creative space within our design studio': A luxury townhouse in Tokyo, courtesy of Aston MartinA new four-storey property in the Omotesandō district is the first single home private residence by the British ultra-luxury performance brand.
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Tuning in with the past: Monk music will ring out for the first time since the Dissolution after medieval manuscript is rediscoveredBuckland Abbey once thronged with monks who sang for hours every day. Now, some of their newly rediscovered medieval music will ring out once more.
