Showtime. Thursday July 21st

Second day of taking vitamins & supplements, no changes yet, maybe it will take another day or two? 

Went ‘Up West’ to see the show Jerusalem with my Son in the evening. 

I’ve seen a version of this show once before, with my Son in the lead when he was at Uni.

He was fucking brilliant but then people might say I am biased, which I am.

Anyway this show is on at The Apollo Theatre in Shaftesbury Avenue with the lead being played by the original actor of the first run in London & New York, Mark Rylance. 

I wonder if he will measure up to my Son?

As we approach the theatre we can see a long queue which stretches to the corner of the block, when we get there it’s clear that the queue snakes all the way around that corner, and all the way to the next and beyond.

We pass all the people waiting, it feels like there are hundreds of them, how on earth they are going to fit everyone in?

It turns out to be fine, we get our seats. They’re those old fashioned red velour type and a little bit too small for the fuller figure, like mine. 

But sometimes it’s necessary to suffer for the sake of art.

I say to my Son Saul that I’m looking forward to seeing Rylance, and Mackenzie Crook – I loved one TV show he was in The Detetctorists, I mention this to my Son, yeah funny you should say that, says he, apparently it really appeals to older blokes. 

And there was me thinking I was just a connoisseur of good TV.

As we are waiting for the show to start I gaze upwards at the victorian gilt and cherubs on the ceiling, what was the name of that theatre where the roof collapsed a few Years ago? I google just in time to read a few lines, Apollo Theatre, 2013, roof collapse injures 76 people. 

The lights dim and I turn off my phone.

I won’t over share by giving away the plot except to say that in essence it’s a story about a geezer by the name of Johnny ‘Rooster’ Byron – a middle aged drunken, substance abusing anti-hero who lives in a trailer in a wood in Gloucestershire. Johnny has a problem with authority, and the local council. 

It’s a fab show & I love it. Three and a half hours later we rise to our feet and applaud.

I turn to my son and say earnestly that I love Rooster Byron & would like to be him.

My son laughs and says I’m sweet. 

On reflection I come to realise that having aspirations to be a drunken drug taking trailer trash kind of geezer may be slightly eccentric.

We trace our steps back down Shaftesbury Avenue, at Picadilly Circus the neons are working overtime and the streets are buzzing, the young folks are just heading out to the clubs and the bars & as it gets near to midnight me and the Boy wend our way back to Norf London & bed.

Back home I check my step counter, 12,866. Not bad at all, and how do I feel, well, happy.

What fun to have had a night out up West, maybe those vitamins are kicking in after all

I drift off to sleep with some of Roosters lines in my head – giving advice to his six year old son:

‘School is a lie

Prisons are a waste of time

Girls are wondrous.’

Those are the words of a Sage.

I still want to be Rooster Byron.

A good old interview with Rylance about the show

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