B = ballet

Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life….
-William Shakespeare

Week two and last night we went to see the most famous romantic tragedy of all time, Romeo and Juliet by New York City Ballet, at the Lincoln Center on New York’s Upper West Side.

Having not been to the ballet since I was very little, this qualified as something new (adult life new) and New York new (the burlesque show involving a cross-dressing ballerina seen two summers ago in Coney Island definitely does not count). The Lincoln Center www.lincolncenter.org is an incredible production in itself, the atrium is full of lights in crystal button shapes, almost like the whole place has been done with a bedazzler and an outside terrace overlooking the spectacular courtyard perfect for a pre-show glass of champagne.

The sound system is out of this world amazing, the orchestra is phenomenal, conducted by the teeniest tiniest lady ever. Juliet twizzles around on her toes so effortlessly, a small bendy creature that can be whipped up into the air without a second thought, moving about the stage in a supernatural way. My fave characters by far were Lord and Lady Capulet, graceful in a slightly more grown-up way, and I loved how Lady Capulet’s costume resembled a giant purple butterfly. Scene VI – The Tomb scene didn’t disappoint and while I had a little tear I thought how strange it was that unwanted arranged marriages still go on today and how sad that there’s probably a modern-day Romeo & Juliet out there somewhere. While I was impressed and moved throughout I don’t think everyone was, the big fatty next to me managed to sleep throughout both Acts, pausing only to adjust his snoring when nudged by his long-suffering and diminutive wife, the mind boggles.

One other people observation to report, a new sighting for me, a woman in her 40s had created an exact mini-me in her 12 year old daughter. Identical skirt, cardigan, tights, shoes, broach, even the haircut was exactly the same. Cloning retro style perhaps.

As for blagging it backstage, I failed last night, however I met a lovely lady who’s given me a name and number of someone who she thinks can help me, I have to call her on Tuesday. My backstage dream, unlike the ill-fated lovers, is still alive.

So if you’re thinking of buying tickets and seeing the performance yourself, definitely do, it’s worth every penny. Fellas take a date, I know it’s cliché but it simply will work.

ps: If you want to pop for a bite beforehand I’d recommend Landmarc just down the street www.landmarc-restaurant.com, great food (chopped salad is excellent and they give you wonderful chewy caramels when at the end) speedy service and fabulous wines at very reasonable prices (the Landmark Vineyard Californian Chardonnay is excellent).

A = art class

Saturday was kick-off day for 26 Weeks. It was icy cold in New York but the sun was dazzling, shame I wasn’t. Friday night’s one glass of wine led to what felt like one hundred glasses and while I would’ve loved nothing more than to stay very, very still and cuddle a never ending mug of hot coffee I refused to fall at the first hurdle so I hauled myself out of bed and got ready to have a go at crafting my very own mug in a clay class.

One sausage roll later from, in my opinion, the best sausage roll makers in the City www.tuckshopnyc.com and I was feeling vaguely human again as we trotted along (by we I mean me and hubby-to-be Simon who generously gave up an afternoon of Premiership football to join me, perhaps regrettably now) to Chinatown to New York’s Education Alliance http://www.edalliance.org/ a non-profit organization that “changes lives and renews the minds & spirits of the weary”. Weary is definitely a word I would used to describe myself, as for the changing lives part well that remained to be seen, lets say I wasn’t holding my probably slightly boozy smelling breath.

In we go to be greeted by a very smiley man who tells us our names sound like movie star names, quite odd as couldn’t really be further from the truth but in my fragile state I’m happy with the compliment and the warm welcome. The classroom is pretty cramped, fairly hot and smells of clay, naturally. We grab the last two seats and settle in for a fairly long demonstration by the teacher. One thing is clear, clay is simply not just roll and go people. It’s all about patience. Oh dear.

We begin and it’s messy and tricky and very repetitive but I’m remembering to be patient. While stroking my clay lovingly into shape I check out the other people in the class, a good hodgepodge, there’s the girl who won’t stop beaming at everyone in a Stepford Wife way, there’s the chatty girl who just wants to make friends but is getting nowhere with me, hangover = not chatty. Then there’s the obligatory guy who smells bad, why is there always one to be found in a classroom? Dance classes, food classes, clay classes, all classes…smelly person. But then there are a couple of people who are just genuinely nice, big-hearted, warm spirited and above all patient. Their mugs are good, very good. Mine isn’t and towards the end I pretty much convince myself that mugs don’t need handles, they’re just for show-offs, until I see Simon’s managed to create one for his mug, clearly there’s no way can I go home with the booby prize pen pot and he gets the gold medal mug so I sort of slap one on and I’m done. It’s not going to start a new career for me and I certainly don’t think it’s going to change my life but I’ve made a mug and in three weeks it will be baked and ready to take home. It felt good, I’d done something new, I’d got off my bum, I’d brought a new mug into the world.

As we walked home we received a text message from our friend who we blame entirely for the night before, he had a new suggestion for letter A….“A is for Aaah f**k it, I’ll start next week”. Nice.

Ps: pictures to come next week with letter B, an oversight with letter A. B = Blagging it Backstage at the Ballet on Friday night, not going to be easy but I’m going to give it a go. Wish me luck!

About 26wks

This week I grew another year older and as it also, rather handily, happens to be the first week of the new year I took a long hard look at myself, you know how you do, you don’t intend to, you tell yourself it’s really just another week in another year but still you go ahead and do it and make a few great resolutions and after the third glass of bubbly you’re convinced that this is the year that you will actually do it, make it happen, be a better, more rounded, more interesting person. Then the ball drops, not just in a Dick Clark Times Square way but in a you dropped the ball, you failed in your resolutions way. Well, this year I say no, no, no, I’m going to put down my wine glass and head out into, arguably one of the best cities in the world, on my very own journey of voyage and return.

As I like a neatly laid out step-by-step plan (I blame it on being an oh-so-sexy Capricorn­­ mountain goat) I will be setting myself a new challenge or booking myself in for a new experience each week according to the letters of the alphabet, A-Z, hence 26 Weeks. I will be taking my first bite out of the juicy big apple tomorrow with “A” for Art Class at the New York Education Alliance, an introduction to clay, for two hours. Art was my worst subject at school and I have pretty grim memories of being huffed over by an Art teacher with severe halitosis and protruding nasal hair so I’m hoping this experience will be an improvement on that. Patrick Swayze….. if you’re out there….I’ll be waiting.

So as I get ready to head down the yellow brick road to test my courage and imagination I’ve realized that the possibilities are endless but there can only be 26 challenges. So if you have a genius idea for a letter I’d love to hear about it, if you’d like to join me I’d love to see you and if you’re up for taking a bite out of the wonderful world we live in I challenge you to launch 26 Weeks in your own Emerald City.

Tune in tomorrow as I tell you about my arty farty experience and I’ll give details of the class too, just in case you fancy whipping up a misshaped mug yourself!

Ps: I’ll be writing up my letters each week until the final installment on July 4th with “Z”. Next week’s “B” is Blagging it Backstage at the Ballet.