birds

I finally made it to the Roof Gardens on Kensington High Street. I've wanted to check this place out for a few years, and have even made a few attempts to see it but it's always been closed for some reason or another. Private parties? The Queen? Spice Girls? Anyway, this morning I made a last attempt and found that the gardens were open and actually pretty empty.

The Roof Gardens are three themed gardens sprawling across 1 1/2 acres on top of a six story building on Kensington High Street. The gardens themselves are seventy years old, and once you're up there you have no idea that you are just one hundred feet above the craziness of the High Street. There's a Spanish garden, a Tudor garden, and then an English woodland garden. And these plants aren't growing just in pots and planters, the ground is sod with actual grass growing, rivers and fountains flowing, and ducks and flamingos puttering around. All on top of a Marks and Spencer! It's really surprising in many ways and so peaceful in others. You forget where you are. It's quiet and very zen. I got some great ideas of planting all new flowers and trees on my roof in Provo. Can't wait! (Lisa begins to breathe anxiously.)

Daniel and Emily came with me to Brixton, which is not the sort of destination anyone really looks forward to. But we were headed down there to see the house where Vincent in Brixton, a show I'm directing at UVU this Fall, is set. Van Gogh lived in the house for a year while he worked as an art dealer. He was nineteen. In the play he falls in love with a young lady who lives in the house, and then transfers his attentions to her mother. It was amazing to think of all of this drama happening in this simple, crumbling townhouse. But it did. And the grammar school is right across the street, just like the play says it is. I sat on a curb where Sam Plowman probably did his sketches. It gave me a really tremendous new sense of place and energy for the show. So fun to be able to do that.

After this I parted ways with Dan and Emily and tried to do some errands, but Brixton is not an area of London I know. I act like I knew, because I'm always acting like that so I don't get murdered. I got on buses, I got off buses, I walked up and down streets, and never found the shops I was looking for. It was one of those treks. Finally I took refuge in a Nando's somewhere in Balham and had some chicken. That gave me greater resolve and I jumped back on a bus, then a couple of tubes, and hit up Covent Garden. I bought Margaret some feline paraphernalia per her request, and stopped to listen to this little orchestra combo play Bolero.

Tonight I met up with my friend Peter White in Greenwich. He's a much in-demand musical director here in London, though he''ll be too modest to admit it. He's the real deal. We had dinner at a nice place in Greenwich called Rivington, and I had toad-in-the-hole. It was so delicious that I took a picture, but the picture looks really gross so I'll spare you. But Peter had fish and chips, and claimed that he hardly ever eats that. It was a nice meal. I like talking to Peter; I always learn so much about the UK theatre world. He's smart and he has some really cool ideas for shows, which I also love to hear about.

After dinner we walked to the Borough Hall to see a show called Crow, which was devised by the Handspring Puppet Company. This is the same company who created those amazing puppet horses for War Horse, so I was excited to see this. It's a version of Ted Hughes' poetry collection Crow told with crow puppets. Peter and I both liked it a lot. It was super ambiguous and sort of mysterious, but that was half the fun. The music was grinding and dissonant, and the crow grew from a little hatchling to a giant behemoth who took up the entire stage. Along the way he tempted Eve in the garden, ate a worm, grew some legs, and ran around terrorizing people. The actors controlling the crows made some really effective squawks and caws. And there were contemporary dancers huffing, puffing, and shrieking up and down a hill, and nothing made sense, and it was kind of awesome. Peter has been on tour with Legally Blonde and I just finished The Sound of Music, so it was nice for both of us to take a little detour into a world of bizarre puppetry and non-linear storytelling. Just for the sake of balance.

the air is humming

Yesterday we woke up to the seagulls, but this morning even they were  drowned out by the insistent bells of the Chichester Cathedral, who were more than hinting that we, and all of southern England, should come to church. As you can see from this picture, the Travelodge where we stayed was directly next to the cathedral, so it was sort of hard to sleep through it. The bells were the typical pattern you get all over the UK on Sunday mornings, except once they finished a cycle of scales and arpeggios they went surprisingly double time. It's gotta be the most exhausting bell job of all time. Crazy, crazypants bell ringing. Rob suspected that the bell ringer was on some kind of illegal stimulant, and I would have to agree. But then the bells went silent, and it seemed to work: the streets of Chichester were empty and eerily quiet. I ran into Rob and Steven down on the corner, and Jena and Kaitlyn on a different corner. Topher, Alayna, and Lauren were having an English breakfast in the pub. Everyone else, apparently, was at church. Kudos to you, psychotic bell ringer! Mission accomplished.

I also had a breakfast. A massive, huge breakfast. The lady asked me if I wanted regular size or large size, and I asked for large. And that's what I got. And I ate it!!!!


Before long we were back on the train headed home. The fields were green and I got one more great look at Arundel castle through the window before the rain started streaking the glass.

London, however, was sunny. Which was really nice to come home to. For lunch, I met up with my buddy James, who lives in Chalk Farm. We had a croque monsieur and then James gave me a little tour of his neighborhood and Primrose Hill, which is on the outskirts of Regent's Park. It's where Gwyneth and Chis live, you know. We hiked to the top of Primrose Hill and had the best, most unobstructed view of London from there. James waxed philosophical:

while I was busy looking at this cloud in the shape of a rooster:

After saying goodbye to my pal, I walked back to the tube stop through Primrose High Street, which James proudly told me "has no Starbucks." I caught the tube, but there was some construction (always, always on the weekends) and had to wait at Camden Town for an inordinately long time.

On the way home I stopped at Knightsbridge to see one of my favorite London things: the Harvey Nichols windows. I like working out a narrative for each window. For example:

"This colorful, stringy wig is so heavy. So heavy I turned upside down. Luckily my mylar pants are filled with helium!"

"Is that a lady-tiger? Yikes! I'm out of here. Good thing I'm wearing track shoes."

"Help! It's a giant leopard made of string!!! Where are my tangerine trousers?"

Shelby did a backflip. At almost the same moment, a giant pony crashed through the wall.

"We were just there, you know, minding our own business. Then this enormous fish from the Emerald City came out of nowhere and bust through the wall! I wish I got a better picture. It was banoodles!!!"

James recommended that I see West Side Story at Royal Albert Hall, so I snagged a ticket on my way home. I changed clothes into something classier (this is, after all, the Royal Albert) and headed back over. To celebrate the 50th anniversary of the film, the Royal Albert is projecting the movie in high def onto a giant screen. Then, the royal philharmonic plays the entire score along with the film. So the original vocals and dialogue are there, but the music is entirely played live, with a full orchestra. To say it's powerful and moving is maybe an understatement.

I know my mother-in-law Shauna Valentine may disown me for this, but I've never really loved West Side Story. It always felt so hokey and dated to me. And the thing is, it is hokey and dated. The Jets all look like they are thirty, and their "gang" clothes look like they came from Forever 21. The Sharks are just white guys with a lot of pancake makeup. It took me a long time to get accustomed to the "dancing for fighting" motif, and the language is so dated and ridiculous. Nothing in it feels dangerous to a modern audience anymore. But all that aside, there's no getting around that Leonard Bernstein score. The syncopation, the rhythms, the frantic, racing energy of that score is like nothing else. And played live? At full volume with a full orchestra? It's a masterpiece. The light pulsing strings at the top of "Something's Coming" were incredibly beautiful. And the full force of the dance music at the gym pushed me into the back of my seat. And these sounds, coupled with Jerome Robbins' choreography, reminded me that, despite it's flaws, West Side Story is an incredible work of art. It's rare that a 50 year old movie still manages a standing ovation, but when names like Robert Wise, Jerome Robbins, Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim come up in the credits, it's kind of hard not to stand for that. Absolutely amazing.

hoo! hoo! by the beautiful sea

We had an open day today, and it was hard to wake up to the screeches of seagulls and not think about the ocean. So that was the plan. We were headed to the sea!

At first we all kind of did our thing around Chichester. A few folks grabbed a full English breakfast at the pub next door, a few folks slept in, and some, like Alayna, went to the cathedral to watch the Peregrine falcons. But eventually we all met up and headed to the train station. Everyone seemed to walk to the station like they had ants in their pants. We sort of had the sense that we needed to get to the beach before all the sand was taken up.

Luckily it was a little overcast and a lot windy, so there weren't throngs of people at the beach. It was actually kind of nice. I didn't mind the wind - it's that great sensation of feeling the ocean spray on your face and hands, and there's something calming about the ocean coming in and going out. The sea was a changing shade of green and gray, and the waves were pretty dramatic. Because of this, we struck many dramatic oceanic poses.

After a bit we headed into a town, whereupon we realized it was a Saturday. The beach didn't feel like one, but the town certainly did. Still, it was part of the vibe of Brighton; all these side streets and alleys full of shops and bunting and people. It's really fun. I could wander around that city for days and still find interesting new things to look at. We walked into vintage stores, record stores, and even pound shops. Finally we decided to eat, and I knew the perfect place.

After only 45 minutes or so of wandering around (ha!) I finally found Bill's, a great breakfast place that Loraine and Adam Boulter had shown me years ago. Bill's is fantastic because they only claim to serve breakfast until 1:00, but it's a total lie. And everyone knows it. The breakfasts are massive, even though I ordered a hamburger and fries. Bill's has become sort of famous, and I learned from our waitress that there's one in Covent Garden now - under my nose this whole time! Ah well. The first Bill's is the best Bill's, and it's one more great reason to go to Brighton.

After lunch we did a little more shopping. I picked up a few things for my kids (who might read this, so I won't reveal what.) We found a really great vintage shop where Steven took this picture of me wearing pony mask:

And Topher looked at some old slides:

While across the street, Nick got his hair cut by a friendly old barber who told us all about The Ascot races, which are happening this weekend:

Then we headed to our designated meet-up spot on the beach, where Topher and Nick grooved to a three piece rock band playing the Star Wars Cantina:

We reunited with Alayna, Lauren, and Bonnie and headed to the Brighton pier. The weather was still windy and cloudy, but no rain. Despite all the weather reports we'd had, it was a really nice day at the sea, Mr. T. We walked the wooden planks of the pier and watched the green waves rolling beneath us. We looked at the House of Horrors, the Ferris Wheels, the carousels, the wild mouse, and then settled on this behemoth, called "The Scream." They claim that it accelerates if you scream louder, and I wouldn't be surprised. We screamed pretty loud. I screamed like a giant ladybaby. This thing shoots you out over the ocean with a force of over 3.6 G's in 3 seconds. And it's 130 feet tall and turns over 360 degrees. It's pretty awesome. I'm turning forty next month. When will I get sick of stuff like this?

After this we played around on the beach for a bit, and took pictures of these massive waves. But the sun was dropping and it was time to catch the train back to Chichester. So we snaked back through the alleys of Brighton, stopping for a few moments only to look inside the creepiest joke shop of all time with the most stoned employee. Brighton was shutting down as well. All of the people seemed to be trickling out, and the shops were rolling up their gates. So we headed back to the station, just in time to jump on board. We sat in First Class seats, because we're first class people! And also because no one ever checks.

I saw this abbey out of the window. It was hard to get a good shot. But I can't imagine seeing like this out of the window of a train back home. Or even being on a train back home. There are just some things about Europe that will never cease to impress me. We told knock-knock jokes on the train and I heard everyone's silly voices, and suddenly we were back in Chichester. Starving. So we ate pub food. And, finally full, I crashed in my hotel room just as the promised rain finally came down, drowning out all the noisy drunks and gulls outside my window.

why can't you behave?

My friend Loraine has been trying to get me to come to the Chichester Festival for I don't know how many years; she pronounces it like "Ch-chsta," as if there's no time for vowels. And even though I've heard of the famous Chichester festival, I've never actually been down there. So this was the year for that.

We gathered this morning at ten (which somehow felt like eight) and headed to Victoria Station. Emily, knowing she was going to be performing in a play later in the afternoon, came prepared and wearing curlers.

Victoria Station is bustling and packed. Any minute Jason Bourne might dart through. It was a little overwhelming for poor Topher.

But Dan seemed to settle in just fine on the train. Here he is, enjoying the 11:02 into Grand Central for another day at Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce.

This was one of those funky trains that splits halfway through the journey. There was a lot of consternation and worry about whether we were in the correct car, but this man assured us that we were. Then about twelve different passengers came and asked him train questions. And he answered them all. He claimed that he should start charging for information, and I kind of agreed. Who made him train captain? He was just a nice guy headed to a wedding in Portsmouth with his wife. He was super awesome, though.

I had a pleasant journey, even despite this horrible gypsy who talked and gobbled the entire time. Sidenote: I have some really great skullcandy headphones!

(do you think I will get a curse for posting this? Don't care. She was so irritating.)

We arrived in beautiful Chichester and headed to the Travelodge for check-in. Checking 19 people into a hotel is never fun, but Walter at the desk was very accommodating and patient. Once everyone was checked in Loraine Edwards showed up and took our world by storm.

Loraine is my good friend from BYU, and she's always been funny, energetic, and great conversation. She teaches at Chichester College now, so we barely see her anymore. But she's the sort of friend you pick up with immediately, as if it hadn't been two years since you saw her last. She walked us to the college where we got to see some scenes from the show she's directing there, Terra Nova. It's all about Robert Scott's fatal expedition to the South Pole. The script seems really, really interesting and it was fun to see her students in action.

Following this, my students performed their piece, Waiting, by Ethan Coen (he of the Coen Brothers.) I had seen this performed at UVU last month, but it was fun to see it again with an even more enthusiastic and appreciative audience. They seemed to like it. And they should. It's delightful and funny and Nick did a great job directing it. I look forward to seeing it back at UVU again in the Fall.

Loraine showed me around the Chichester Cathedral which, we were immediately informed by a cloaked volunteer, was built 903 years ago. No small shakes. It's a beautiful cathedral, and I love the artsy mixing of styles. For instance, in one room you have Norman burial tombs, and then just outside that room is a stained glass window by Marc Chagall. It's fancy and awesome and I always love cathedrals. I always think of my beloved Exeter cathedral, with little Miles and Owen running up and down the nave in their yellow slickers.

Oh, here's Voldemort! Watching over us all.

After the cathedral Loraine and I found several back alleys and took pictures in which we were pretending to be sneaking around back alleys, but which just look really dumb. Oh well! We thought it was funny.

And then we had a glorious dinner at Isle Belle, which is perfectly situated right next to my hotel. It's very American and the portions are huge and I dug myself right into a big old steak fajita. Loraine insisted on onion rings and a brownie dessert. And we had a great talk. We talked about you a lot. Could you feel it? Were your ears burning?

Tonight we saw Kiss Me Kate at the Chichester Festival Theatre. This is where a lot of big shows "tryout" before heading to the West End. Sweeney Todd and Singin' in the Rain, for example, both came from here. I have a hunch that Kiss Me Kate will transfer as well. It's fantastic. I directed this show a few years ago, and it's still one of my favorite directing memories. So it was great to see it again, and so nicely directed by Sir Trevor Nunn, who directed the original Cats and Les Mis. I've also seen Nunn's productions of Aspects of Love and A Little Night Music. He's a legend. This production also starred Hannah Waddingham, who is incredible and who I've seen in Into the Woods, A Little Night Music, and Spamalot. The show had so much energy and charisma and the dancing was incredible. Really funny and tight. I told Kate that this is the perfect mix for me: Shakespeare and Jazz Standards. And it really is. It's one of the few musicals that can rhyme "puberty" with "Schuberty" and get away with it. When it's directed with this kind of creativity and deftness it really has a perfection all it's own.