Lail's Lament

All the world's a stage...

August Already! I hope you’re keeping cool. I am not. Apologies in advance for this overly emotional instalment.

Going to see Nicholas Hytner’s production of Guys and Dolls was always going to be a big night for me. My long-awaited birthday present from JF, three-times postponed due to I can’t even remember what. I was hyped. I’m not sure the image of my 14-year-old self winning first prize in a musical theatre festival with a rip-roaring rendition of Adelaide’s Lament is good for my street-cred, so let’s just say I am familiar with the material. (Full disclosure: I also performed Take Back Your Mink, the genius showgirl number in which Adelaide feigns outrage at her suitor for trying to “remove” all the expensive gifts he’s given her… pearls, gloves, shoes, gown... whilst proceeding to remove them herself in coquettish indignation…)

Miss Adelaide aside, I hadn’t been to the theatre since before the pandemic. In fact, the theatre was my last real outing before the pandemic. I know that because the ticket stub served as my bookmark throughout lockdown. March 9th 2020. We’d seriously considered cancelling because everyone was worried about this thing called Coronavirus — we too were worried about this thing called Coronavirus — but we’d booked it such a long time ago, we couldn’t possibly cancel! I remember wrapping my scarf over my mouth on the underground, no masks yet, trying not to fall over because I didn’t want to hold the railings.

I arrived first and headed straight to the bathroom to wash my hands. The foyer was hung with tiny lanterns, sparkling down at the crowd as though everything was ok. When my friend arrived we decided not to hug, which felt so sad. I was ahead-of-the-curve in my caution because I was starting IVF. Literally that day. I took my first little pill right there at the bar, asking the barman for tap water and then panicking that I shouldn’t have drunk from a glass that someone else had touched. It was not good timing for me to catch a deadly virus. Ten days later the world had shut down, including every fertility clinic on earth. My IVF cycle was cancelled, indefinitely. Curtains.

It felt modestly miraculous then, four years later, for JF and I to be on our way to see my favourite musical, with our three-year-old happily conducting a “sleepover” at his grandparents’ house. It was a wonderfully warm London night, the river Thames was sparkling, a dance troupe was delighting the tourists, the city felt alive and we were part of it… Curtains Up! And drumroll…

Birds-eye view. Guys & Dolls about to start at The Bridge Theatre, London.

Imagine my surprise when, approaching The Bridge Theatre, to which I’d never been before, it started to dawn on me that I had in fact been there before. Four years ago. On March 9th 2020. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world... What are the chances? I couldn’t believe it. All those lanterns, still sparkling. Have you ever swum in the ocean when a huge wave curls over you so you see it from the inside for a moment before it throws you up and knocks you down? This wave was made of memories and the salt stung my eyes.

Just the weight of these past four years. I was overcome by all we’ve overcome. I may be the first person to ever have cried during the overture of Guys and Dolls! The orchestra was so brilliant. As was the staging, the performances, the songs… those songs! The lyrics are sharper than anything my 14-year-old self could have fully appreciated. If you’re in London and able to catch the show, do it! I can’t promise you my own cathartic full circle experience, but it’s so much fun. Alternatively you can just watch Sinatra…