Black power

Satruday past to Guildford to see 'Two Trains Running' at the Yvonne Arnaud Theatre, by the river there. A play about a small group of black people in a run down part of Pittsburgh - then a dying steel town - by August Wilson. See references 1, 2 and 3.

As on the last occasion, much discussion about how to get to Guildford, but in the end we settled on the train, which worked out very well. Door to door, probably faster than attempting to drive, with the theatre turning out to be just a short walk along the river from the station.

A bright cool day and the road under the West Hill railway bridge was still closed, at least there were still signs up. But there were no workmen and cars were not paying too much attention to them as they wriggled through the holes in the road. We did not hear of any accidents, but it would have been easy enough for one to happen, say at chucking out time. Given that the road was more or less open, one might have thought that traffic lights should have been provided. Or perhaps they thought that we were mature enough to manage without lights? I associate now to the school of thought that says that we have become far too nannyish about road signing and we might do better with less of it. I seem to recall that one of the central London Boroughs even ran a trial.

Intrigued on the station by the large posters of the face of an older Helen Mirren playing Catherine the Great for HBO (Home Box Office) and Sky. Cortana told me that Mirren was rather older now at 74 than Catherine the Great was when she died at 67, although I suppose one should make allowances for our wearing rather better these days. In any event, not my favourite actress - notwithstanding which we will no doubt watch the series when the DVD's make it to the charity shops.

Entertained on the train by a youngish lady, perhaps Australian, displaying a great deal of attractive leg and telling her mobile phone all about her experiences of the night before, an experience which appeared to include a one night stand. Furthermore, a lady who appeared to be very into diet and diets. Maybe I am old, but I find it odd how people are perfectly comfortable with telling the world about such stuff - this despite the fact that we did not know her, are unlikely to come across her again and might just as well, for all practical purposes, not have been there at all.

Arrived at Guildford and found a bench overlooking the Wey, complete with railings and a very busy clump of ivy, that is to say busy with bees - or some flying insect very much of that sort. At least it seemed very busy at the time, with not so many to be found on the snap, even with zoom.

With the map snap revealing that the Wey flows roughly south to north at this point, and the High Street east to west. For some reason I had thought that the High Street ran south, down to the river. Also showing clearly the railway junction, north of Guildford, strikingly visible from the footbridge noticed at reference 4. We did not get into the large church with tower, southwest of the railway station, seemingly now some kind of arts centre.

Impressed by the strength of the slender concrete columns supporting the extension to the building above, presumably full of reinforcing bars. Puzzled by the chimney left, slightly too high from the point of view of appearances, but we were not sure what it was for - beyond being sure that it was for something: too big and expensive to be no more than a decorative feature. Perhaps a vent from a waste water pipe? Not so impressed by the arrangements for attaching the life belt to the railings. And then a new-to-us sort of plastic pallet. Various pubs and a playground on the way to a waterside area, complete with strip iron footbridge and lock which reminded us of Jesus Green at Cambridge - with its footbridge which I must have crossed, hundreds of times, on the way to the swimming pool, early in the morning, when a child. Parents did not drive one to such activities in those days! Plus a bollard which looked far too serious to have been installed for pleasure craft.

Guildford's answer to Jesus Green, with the strip iron footbridge just about visible, if you click to enlarge, by the lamppost.

The rather fierce looking outfall from some modest hydro power operation, not far from the theatre.

Decorative art for the smoking den attached to the upstairs bar in the theatre. The wine seemed cheap for a theatre bar, but the barman explained that care was needed: some things were priced down while some things were priced up.

The downstairs bar was decorated by a tablet in the floor which explained that somewhere below, in the concrete of the foundations, Vanessa Redgrave's footprint was to be found.

Downstairs reasonably full, with  sprinkling of black people. Just the one set, which we liked, for the whole show, around two and a bit hours excluding interval. But the show was a touring show, and we wondered how long it took to take it down and pack it up in the van.

I found the first half a bit heavy going as I found the language difficult - and a party of black girls whom I asked about this in the interval at first said that the language was fine, but when pressed a little admitted that they too found it a little fast for comfort. Fortunately I had much less trouble in the second half. And, language apart, the acting was strong. Interesting to us as a portrait of black life in a run-down bit of a run-down city; very much what my mother would have called a kitchen sink drama and a far cry from the doings of the middle and upper classes which used to occupy most of the dramatic time available. At least, that is my impression. A couple of snippets. First, we are now much clearer about the numbers game, which appears to be a form of low-tech lottery, very open to abuse by criminals; just the sort of thing organised crime might muscle into. Presumably there was little or no legal gambling in the US at that time and no betting shops. Second, there was a form of sale in the US whereby you paid so much for a bit of farm land - but the sale would become void if water were subsequently found on the land, perhaps down the bottom of a lucky well. We were not told whether the purchase price was refunded. I wonder if it would be possible to sell land in this way in this country?

Audience very enthusiastic at the end.

We made our way to the Britannia, a Shepherd Neame house, a place which might once have been a bikers house, but now does a very good thing out of casual-fine dining. We had an entirely acceptable sausage and mash, only marred by my forgetting to ask for the gravy in a jug. Plus lots of dogs, children and vaping.

Following the Bullingdon-like system for bicycle hire on the Stag Hill campus noticed at reference 4, the Bullingdon-in-the-box system operated at Guildford railway system. Not sure now whether the idea is to take one out when you get onto the train or when you get off the train. The former having the down side that that the train gets cluttered up with small bicycles. The latter that Guildford is a rather hilly place for the occasional cyclist.

No moon to be seen at 1900, although we felt sure that there had been moon in the recent past. However, intimidated by the snap above, I decided not to pursue my lunar education on return home.

PS: I am reminded that prohibiting gambling works no better than prohibiting drink or other recreational drugs. When we will learn?

Reference 1: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Two_Trains_Running.

Reference 2: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/August_Wilson.

Reference 3: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_Pittsburgh.

Reference 4: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/10/dignity-in-dying.html.

Reference 5: https://www.yvonne-arnaud.co.uk/.