Priscilla, Queen of the Desert & Fun at the Fair

I went to two shows today, one a simple story about a fair ground and the other, a story about a trip to central Australia.

All of the Fun at the Fair has a story built around the songs of DAvid Essex, who must have had a cult following in England, for people applauded when he came out onto the stage. And at the intermission, I overheard the woman behind me telling her companion about Essex's illustrious composing and singing career.

I didn't have the advantage of any of her knowledge, but got to hear the songs -- a the music was basic and the costuming looked like it could have been done by wyona or me, for I am sure we each have a copy of the pink scarf with gold threads that the heroine was wearing.

Because there was a scene that referred to motorcylces wdoing tricks in a long, deep well, like the event I watched once when I was very young, thinking about fairs from long ago and how what is politically correct has changed the shape of those carnivals.
As well, I saw Priscilla, Queen of the Desert today. I did see the movie, but the stage show is even more over the top, though the script is essentially the same plot and the same music.

For some unknown reason to me, I missed the ABBA group when I was growing up. I didn't know one piece of music. But it was people of my generation who clapped the loudest when the show was over.

To go to that show, one must not hold any prejudice towards female impersonators, nor rauncy language.

Charise is the one who gave me the word ranchy, when we were talking on the phone about our common experience there. Charise has seen the show twice -- she can give a better critique than I.

The costuming is so extravagent that it was hard for tonight's show to complete with the wild colours, the sequins and the glitter on lips of performers at the afternoon matinee.

The performers came down into the audience to pick up 20 people to do a hoe-down number with them. That was a time when I was glad to have a centre seat as it was the people in the isles who were picked off.

As well the props included a tour bus that lit up with neon lights and a large sequined high heel on top of the bus. A good thing for me that I stood outside the theatre and studied the costuming on the posters for a long time, so that I wouldn't have the intial shock of all of those vibrant colours on the stage.At one point confetti rained down from the front of the house on everyone who was in the first 15 rows. I picked up what had fallen on my shoulders and sweater and brought it home to put it on the wallboard on which I am tacking all of the tickets to remind me of what fun I am having.

I don't know what got into me going to two shows. Perhaps it is because Wyona has gone to Paris and I have a tradition to uphold. The buses were held up on the road, and I could see that I wasn't going to get to the matinee on time. So I must be modelling myself in Wyona's image, for I asked the driver to let e off the bus, ran for Oxford Circus Metro, read the signage to find out that I needed to take the Bakerloo Line going south for 2 stops, and indeed I made it there with 2 minutes to spare.

She would have been proud of me.