Chimes of Midnight

I have been to the Alhambra to see the Royal Shakespeare Company's Henry IV Parts 1 and 2. The first was the matinee and the second the evening performance. They were both excellent, but it was an awful long time to sit still, even allowing for the two hour break between. I spent said break having a Lamb Bhuna and three chapatis at one of Bradford's famed cheap and cheerful city centre restaurants. For the benefit of my Luxembourg correspondent, it was the International; no significant improvements to report.

Star of the show in every way was Sir Antony Sher as Falstaff. I wondered whilst watching how he had aged up, but a bit of subsequent investigation showed to my astonishment that he is 65. If he's that old then I must be knocking on a bit myself. Who knew? Anyway, where was I? Ahh, yes, Sher's Falstaff. Obviously he's got some great comic writing to play with, but nonetheless he squeezed every last laugh out of it, and at the climactic coronation scene he was also pitch perfect in his note of pathos.

Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth
In strange eruptions.

A special mention should also be made of Trevor White whose fiery Hotspur reminded me at least of Billy Idol.