Becoming Elizabeth

 

The six year reign of Edward V1 can be divided into two. When Henry V111 dies in the January of 1547, the new young king falls under the nearly three year protectorship of Edward Seymour, soon to become the Duke of Somerset. The series Becoming Elizabeth spends six of the eight episodes on this period which ends with John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland taking over as Somerset is locked in the Tower of London in October 1549.

Only the first two of the later three years of Edward's reign are portrayed in the final two episodes which end with the execution of Somerset in January 1552. So it is obvious that those first three years are far more interesting and that is why my screenplay called The Seymours concentrates on that period. I'm not surprised that Becoming Elizabeth was cancelled after the first series as viewing figures plummeted. My screenplay is for a one off feature of a couple of hours instead of six episodes over four and a half hours.

Becoming Elizabeth could therefore easily have been titled The Seymours as Edward and Thomas are far more prominent than King Edward and his sisters.

But Elizabeth's name sells tickets or viewing figures. One critic tells us that the series "belies any historical accuracy". Having studied the period I cannot agree. Of course there are elements that are there for dramatic effect, there is far too much padding in the romantic scenes, and too many profanities for me. But the main historical facts are there. Even if a one off feature would have been better.

However, I felt that it was the final episode that was far better written than anything that went before. I thought that Jamie Parker (famous for playing the adult Harry Potter in the stage version) as John Dudley was the best thing in the whole series, except maybe for Romola Garai who was wonderful as Mary. Although I had invested a lot in writing about the Seymour brothers and, despite their excellent casting, they were not quite top drawer actors. And then there is Elizabeth played by Alicia von Rittberg. I have no idea why they chose a minor German actress. She seemed straight out of drama school. 

We then get that awful cliff-hanger ending to the final episode that so many TV series now play for the next series to come. Edward has revived from near death, Somerset is executed, and Mary and Elizabeth disappear. However, there is to be no more as any new series has been cancelled and I'm not surprised. Maybe the best idea is to consolidate those existing episodes into that one feature and call it The Seymours. With a decent ending. Now isn't that a good idea.

Meg2 - The Trench, the Haunted Mansion and Oppenheimer

 

What can I say. The original was reasonable fun and Meg2 - The Trench had OK reviews. It does try hard to be witty and sometimes succeeds. Jason Statham plays Jason Statham and the rest of the cast are fine. I never really enjoy underwater sequences (I did drop off during Thunderball but it was a midnight showing). When we arrive on dry land, we are in for that big finale. But it's the submarine that is made for a fairground ride with all it's battering and danger.

From movies made for a theme park to a theme park ride made into a movie. The Haunted Mansion could have been so much better with a half decent script. But this was just awful. The dialogue was the worst I had listened to in a very long time. Rosario Dawson is the best of a motley crew who are outshone by the ghosts. 

In the absence of any decent new films, I was very glad I went to see Oppenheimer for the second time. The three hours seemed to go faster this time round. It's the politics that are so incredible. Just who can you trust in 1940's America. However, there was that point about a third through when Matt Damon as General Leslie Groves interviews Cillian Murphy's Oppenheimer for the big job. It might have been the music or the intensity of the acting as both gradually ramp up as Oppenheimer gets to the blackboard. I felt this was one of the best things I had ever seen at the cinema. Yes, a job  interview!

The last section is again excellent as Oppenheimer chooses to face the enquiry where he knows the odds are stacked against him. All taking place in a tiny room and very theatrical in it's setting. The acting is all top drawer. But for me, the best of all (and I never thought I would ever say this) was Robert Downey Jr as Lewis Strass. He's not even mentioned in Tom Shone's five star review in the Sunday Times. 

Wendover Woods Walk - low level and part parkrun

 

This is now one of my favourite walks, especially when I need some shade this time of year. I park on Babington Road in Wendover, which is usually deserted, walk up the lane and enter the woods via a short climb where a metal handrail has been recently installed. Instead of going up the steep hill (that now has a rope handrail) I turned left along the path at low level. I sometimes turn right but today I headed towards Halton camp.

After nearly a mile, there is a meeting of paths where I turn a sharp right and head up the hill, a steady but reasonable incline on a wide well made path. This takes you to the top of Wendover Woods where you meet the main path to the cafe and car park. This is where you join the route for parkrun and follow it all the way. Near the cafe the path goes back downhill until you reach a right hand turn to go back up. At the top a left turn and a path at the very edge of the woods with the best views. 

Then another steep but short downhill section where at the bottom the parkrun course bears right uphill. But this is where I leave it and take a path that bears left down to edge of Wendover itself. I avoid the turn to the road and take another low level path back to lane. This route is almost exactly five miles and, whilst quite hilly, is always interesting. And mostly shady.

Cosmos and the Garden in August

 

On my posting of the 27th March, I described how I was following Monty Don's instructions on Gardener's World on sowing Cosmos seeds 

I planted  them in a tray in the conservatory. Then in April they were beginning to show signs of growth.

In May they were doing well.

Later in May they were transplanted into pots (where they are disappointing) and in the long border where they have flowered well.

They are even nice as a cut flower.

As they were so poor in pots, next year I will try something else. But it is nice to grow flowers from seed, and a lot cheaper. There is something about Cosmos at the moment. I have seen a couple of pictures of stately homes with these flowers at the front, and on Gardner's World, Monty stands in front of the ones he planted.

On the subject of seeds, I sowed some free Eschscholzia (try saying that after a couple of gins) "Orange King" in the conservatory border. Apparently Californian poppy. Not really the right place for them.

But as cuttings they look a lot better.

Also far better as cuttings are the gladioli purple flora. They look so out of place in the border (note no photos there) but as a cut flower they are quite dramatic. Almost too much so. They will be replanted somewhere more appropriate in March.

Two years ago I planted these Hostas called fire and ice in pots for the side patio. This year they flowered again(see post in July) and although the flower stalks are gone, the leaves still look great.

However, those Hostas on the other side of the house have not been as good as last year. So come the autumn, they will be split and repotted.

I cannot remember ever including a photo of the front border, but this year the two geraniums have flowered well.

Into late summer and the Rudbeckia are in flower.

However, they are the only colour in the hot bed, it having been cleared of all the weeds that love this wet summer.

Some of the roses are blooming for the second time. 

The pink salvias are more like a bush.

The Asters are always late flowering. Hopefully there will be a lot more in September.

The large Hypericum that I chopped right down to the ground in spring after it all looked dead after that harsh winter, has revived and the first flower has appeared.

And a shrub that always flowers at the end of summer. The Hibiscus has lots of flower buds so should look good in September..

The Acanthus is almost past it's best.

And a repeat flowering for the Astrantia in the main border.

Not sure why the honeysuckle is flowering at this time of year.

There is a separate post for the dwarf dahlias. But in the last week in August, they are at their best. And we can see them out of the kitchen window.

Samurai Su Doku

 

I'm about to finish the last of the difficult puzzles in my first Samurai Su Doku book, having completed the easy and mild sections. However, I'm not keen on the super difficult ones as these require some guessing with a "trial path". I normally try one puzzle a week, alternating with my book of traditional Fiendish Su Doku. (See post of 9th November 2020).

The Samurai puzzles are actually four linked together with one in the middle. Hours of harmless fun.

exciting times, The Normal Man and Shrines of Gaiety

 

Ava is only in her early twenties so I can forgive her pretentious attitude. She actually thinks she is a bad person, but this is only in her relationships with Julian and Edith which are explored in minute detail. Her life seems so hectic, all that Instagram, messaging, hanging out. The writing, while first class, is highly introspective: "During these outings I felt that I had hitherto woefully misdirected my energies in trying to cultivate a personality. If you didn't have one then that left more room for everyone else's." There is a lot of this.

There is some interesting stuff about Hong Cong's relationship with China, but we are sometimes overwhelmed by the writer's insistence to to let us know how much she knows about the city. "A few meters down from the Shanghai Commercial Bank was a Yun Fat Pawn Shop" and so on. I actually became a little bored with the story over halfway, feeling it was somewhat repetitive. I was never that convinced about her feelings towards Julian and Edith, but that's the young for you.

Having enjoyed the latest four of Susie Boyt's novels, I tracked back to her first book written in her mid twenties, and what a little gem it is. It was equally good as her later books. It is so well written, with great humour and wit. Janey March lives rent free in a flat in a luxury mansion block off Victoria Street, courtesy of a dead aunt and a cousin who lives abroad. But nothing works so all is not sweetness and light. "The curtains are never drawn in deference to their fragility".

Although the story is told over one weekend, it mostly looks back to her parents marriage and particularly her close relationship with her father. His death still haunts Janey, especially the old songs they used to sing. In those first years after he died, Janey is trapped into looking after her mother. "A solemn little death club was formed (with other bereaved women) for the swapping of tears, stories and handy mourner's tips".

However, an accident at a party over that present weekend throws Janey together with that normal man she meets for the first time. "Casualty, in the small hours of a Saturday morning, had a faintly theatrical air. It smelled like a pub". I have two other of the author's books on my to read list.

I have always been a huge fan of Kate Atkinson. After a couple of recent books ("God in Ruins" and "Transcription") that I had not enjoyed as much, "Big Sky" was brilliant. "Shrines of Gaiety" falls somewhere in between. Cramming in everything about the decadence of London between the wars seemed to be at the expense of good prose and getting on with the story. The story telling is, as ever, first class, and I liked the switches in character. Best of these was Gwendolen Kelling. The author obviously loves this clever young woman whose story elevates the writing and the book. Oh, yes, she's from York! Atkinson has to get her home town in: "York was planning a new Carnegie library". And. of course, a mention for Betty's. Before we head to the smoke.

The matriarch of a London set of nightclubs, Nellie Coker, and her five children all get their stories interwoven with that of Inspector Frobisher, Gwendolen, some bad men and a couple of strays. There is some good description of central London at the time, but not enough. Although Conduit Street (my first office when I joined a new company) gets a couple of mentions and other places that are quite familiar. However, the story turns into one of depravity and death with just too many co-incidences as character meets character. So a reasonable story if a little predictable. And long.

Over three quarters of the way through, very little seemed to be resolved, as if there was going to be a sequel. But then it seemed as if the author gave up on that idea and we were told in a few pages what happened to every character, and how long they lived. All suddenly wrapped up.  How awful. Not what I would have expected from a favourite novelist.

Back in the Day by Melvyn Bragg

 

Melvyn Bragg was born in 1939 so just five years before me. So there was much that I found familiar about the story of his childhood and youth. So this review is not just about the book, but other personal stuff that I conjured up from my past. So when he starts with his grandmother when he was six, I am remembering mine. Mine were polar opposites. My father's mother had pretensions of grandeur while my mother came from a family of miners and steelworkers. So mum and dad had hugely different backgrounds. When my brother and I went to stay with my mother's parents, there was an outside lavatory and the toilet paper was newspaper cut into squares.

There is a note about manager of a bank who lived in the flat above. Ours was above one of the shops that my father used to work for. The first at Alton in Staffordshire, then in London and finally in Braintree in Essex. I enjoyed reading about Bragg's childhood when his parents ran a pub. There is one terrific chapter that records the fights there, all sorted by his father. "It was only later, much later, I appreciated how strong my father was". Then chapters on playing football in the park (Kensington Gardens for us), holidays at home, books (Biggles, Jennings and Just William. But no Enid Blyton for us), The Goon Show on the radio (we listened to The Navy Lark, Educating Archie and Hoirney into Space, but these were a little later). But Melvyn and I were listening to Radio Luxemberg at the same time, crackly reception and all. And we both had bags of chips from the fish and chip shop. Marbles in the gutter, for us a drain cover. Bonfire night.

When Bragg goes to grammar school he remembers all the names of his teachers. More than I can. He plays rugby for the highly successful Wigton Schools and their brilliant coach Jimmie Morton. Going unbeaten in the north west for four years! In the 6th form he knuckles down to working hard. If only my teachers had been half as good. (See separate post). His Saturday night dances were at Wigton Market Hall. Mine were at Great Dunmow Jazz Club. But his huge commitment to study with the support of some excellent teachers brings huge success in his "A Levels". This leading to an entrance exam and interview for Queens College, Oxford, with an offer for a scholarship after his National Service. Only shortly after he was no longer needed to join up. An alternative for Wadam College is again successful. All because, as his teacher tells his father, he has "a rare capacity for hard work". Thank goodness it's rare as I only found such commitment in my career.

Tring Book Club- Tidelands by Phillipa Gregory

 

For my last meeting of book club, it was our first by Phillipa Gregory. I was happy with this choice as I had never before read one of her historical novels. But if this is representative of her work, it will be my last. Nothing wrong with the story, I just could not get along with her prose. Perhaps that is just me. It seemed that the author wanted to cram in everything about the history of the two years of 1648 and 1649. Now lets see, how can we introduce King Charles, hiding in Newport on the Isle of Wight, and an absent husband who has a boat. I'm afraid the book lost all credibility. There is a reasonable family drama here, Alinor and her two children Rob and Alys are interesting characters and their home lies in a dramatic place, Sealsea Island on that ragged coast of Sussex. The first part of the book promises something special. Only to sink beneath the unbelievable plot. I didn't mind the introduction of the local squire Sir William Peachey even if he had been recently pardoned for being a royalist. See what I mean. Add in stuff about dowries, witch trials and we have a history lesson instead of a novel. 

Over the thirteen years we have read 147 books. I listed them on the twelfth anniversary, but here is my final update.

TRING BOOK CLUB 

Enduring Love by Ian McEwan

The Bookseller of Kabul by Asne Seierstad

Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nightime by Mark Haddon

The Black Dahlia by James Elroy

Brooklyn by Colm Toibin

The Life of Pi by Yann Martel

The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro

An Awfully Big Adventure by Beryl Bainbridge

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

The Help by Kathryn Stockett

The Other Hand by Chris Cleave

Headlong by Michael Frayn

One Day by David Nicholls

Gone for Good by Harlan Coben

Room by Emma Donoghue

Winter Ghosts by Kate Mosse

Fasting Feasting by Anita Dessai

Started Early, Took My Dog by Kate Atkinson

What Was Lost by Catherine O’Flynn

Great House by Nicole Krauss

Any Human Heart by William Boyd

The Midwife’s Confession by Diane Chamberlain

A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan

Snowdrops by A.D. Miller

The Silent Land by Graham Joyce

Charles Dickens – Various

Mr Phillips by John Lanchester

Pure by Andrew Miller

The Children’s Book by A S Byatt

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon

There but for the by Ali Smith

Moon Tiger by Penelope Lively

Stuart: A Life Backwards by Alexander Masters

The Lighthouse by Alison Moore

The House of Silk by Anthony Horowitz

Swimming Home by Deborah Levy

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce

The Last September by Elizabeth Bowen

Engelby by Sebastian Faulks

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

The Sea by John Banville

The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald

The Secret History by Donna Tartt

The Girl with the Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier

The Beginner’s Goodbye by Anne Tyler

The Garden of Evening Mists by Tan Twan Eng

Instructions for a Heatwave by Maggie O’Farrell

The Ice Palace by Tarjei Vesaas

Dear Life by Alice Munro

Waterland by Graham Swift

A Long Walk Home by Judith Tebbutt

Life After Life by Kate Atkinson

Harvest by Jim Crac 

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

The Shock of the Fall by Nathan Filer

Jamrach’s Menagerie by Carol Birch

Burial Rites by Hannah Kent

State of Wonder by Ann Patchett

Offshore by Penelope Fitzgerald

All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque (and other WW1 novels).

When I Lived in Modern Times by Linda Grant

The Robber Bride by Margaret Atwood

The Miniaturist by Jessie Burton

Elizabeth is Missing by Emma Healey

The Secret Scripture by Sebastian Barry

A Common Place Killing by Sian Busby

The Quickening Maze by Adam Foulds

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doer 

The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters

Mrs Hemingway by Naomi Woo 

My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante

A Place Called Winter by Patrick Gale

The Daughters of Mars by Thomas Keneally

The Green Road by Anne Enwright

The Secret River by Kate Grenville

The Wolf Border by Sarah Hall

Sweet Caress by William Boyd

The Map of Love by Ahdaf Soueif

Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout

House of Orphans by Helen Dunmore

Missing, Presumed by Susie Steiner

The Loney by Andrew Hurley

This Boy by Alan Johnson

Remarkable Creatures by Track Chevalier

Golden Hill by Francis Spufford

The Talented Mr Ripley by Patricia Highsmith

The Boston Girl by Anita Diamant

The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry

Lost for Words by Stephanie Butland

The Storyteller by Jodi Picoult

The Girl who Fell from the Sky by Simon Mawer

The Pier Falls by Mark Haddon

Midwinter Break by Bernard MacLaverty

The Muse by Jessie Burton

Birdcage Walk by Helen Dunmore

The Story of Lucy Gault by William Trevor

Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

The Gap of Time by Jeanette Winterson

A Passage to India by E.M. Forster

Three Things About Elsie by Joanna Canon

The Cleaner of Chartres by Sally Vickers

The Bees by Laline Paull

The Sealwoman’s Gift by Sally Magnusson

The Mandelbaum Gate by Muriel Spark

Love is Blind by William Boy 

Pastoral by Nevil Shute

Sixteen Trees of the Somme by Lars Mytting

Someday I’ll Find Me by Carla Lane

Milkman by Anna Burns

A View of the Harbour by Elizabeth Taylor

Mothering Sunday by Graham Swift

Once Upon a River by Diane Setterfield

The Confessions of Franie Langton by Sara Collins

The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy

The Queen of the Tambourine by Jane Gardam

The Soldier’s Return by Melvyn Bragg

A Pale View of Hills by Kazuo Ishiguro

The Magic Toyshop by Angela Carter

The Salt Path by Raynor Winn

Heartbreak Hotel by Deborah Moggach

Fever of the Bone by Val McDermid

Girl by Edna O’Brien

The Dig by John Preston

The Overstory by Richard Powers

Far Sweeter than Honey by William Spence 

Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell

Undue Influence by Anita Brookner

The Midnight Library by David Haig

The Doll Factory by Elizabeth Macneal

Holding by Graham Norton

Mrs England by Stacey Halls

Spook Street by Mick Herron

The Book of Lost Names by Kristin Harmel

Small Pleasures by Clare Chambers

The Hours by Michael Cunningham

The Sanest Guy in the Room by Don Black

Still Life by Sarah Winman

The Island of Missing Trees by Elif Shafak

Dreams from my father by Barak Obama

The Leviathan by Rosie Andrews

Fingers in the Sparkle Jar by Chris Packam

Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus

 Rules of Civility by Amor Towles

Tidelands by Phillipa Gregory

 

 

 

Cuckoo at the Royal Court Theatre

 

 

I can only remember once before  visiting the Royal Court Theatre in Sloane Square and that was in 2003. David Haig and Rosemund Pike  starred in Hitchcock Blonde. The theatre is, unfortunately, showing it's age. It needs a Lloyd Webber type to undertake a major refurbishment. But it does show brand new dramas of which there are so few. Cuckoo is by Michael Wynne with direction by Vicky Featherstone. 

The cast is made up of Grandmother Doreen (Sue Jenkins), her two daughters Carmel (Michelle Butterly on the left) and Sarah (Jodie McNee) and Carmel's troubled daughter Megyn (Emma Harrison). They seem to spend most of their time at Doreen's house, especially Megyn who takes to Doreen's bed and refuses to come out. for a long time. So we knew who the cuckoo was. Indulged by her grandmother, talk about an awful teenager. 

So a kitchen sink drama for today, complete with mobile phones which seem to be continually in use. Including messaging each other.  For all of them. They seem to live in Birkenhead as I caught a glimpse of a shopping bag. The dialogue was terrific and the acting first rate. Unfortunately the story is disappointingly weak. The best bit comes when Doreen (bereaved for four years) is going on a date, much to the distress of her daughters. Their interrogation ends up in a slanging match that ups the dramatic stakes to where they should be. The play has mixed reviews but I'm just thankful there are such dramas still being written and performed.

I left the theatre at 4.40pm and was back at Tring by 5.50pm. A very quick journey home. The day had been warm (26C) and sunny, so different to most of the weather recently.

Battersea Power Station - Lift 109 and Royal Court Theatre

 I last visited Battersea Power Station in 2019 when it was still under reconstruction and refurbishment. I included lots of photos on my post of 8th August of that year. Just like the one below.

It was not until I read there that all the white chimneys were brand new, just replicas of the old. And that was why they were able to include a visitor lift inside one of them. Some photos of Lift 109 are below. 

But I will start with journey there. Alison kindly dropped me at Tring Station as the Chiltern Line was shut and replaced by buses to Amersham. Amazingly, the 9.43 am train to Euston started at Tring and was waiting for me to board. Arrived at Euston and took the Northern Line all the way to the brand new station for Battersea Power Station. Just one hour 35 minutes from leaving home.

I was early for my timed ticket for Lift 109 and had plenty of time to explore the three levels of the brand new shops and restaurants in the main turbine hall.

But I was more interested in the construction. I was impressed by the glazed terra cotta cladding in the top photo above where ribbed faience tiles covered the structure. (See Boston Terra Cotta website). The roof construction below is a work of art.

I found the sign directing me to the upper level for Lift 109.

Above the entrance is this sign.

There is a small interactive exhibit while waiting to be transported to the top of one of the replica chimneys. Of the photos that showed the history of the power station, I particularly liked the one from 1955 when we were living not that far away.

There are two large screens that show the movement of the lift as it rises to the top.

There is a clever swing door to enter the first traditional enclosed lift. This takes you to the bottom of the chimney where there are then 39 steps to the next lift. Any reference to John Buchan's book? Somehow I found myself at the head of our party so pushed on with the help of the handrails.

At the top is a circular glass lift and there are some great views of the construction from inside.

The real bonus is that the lift rises just above the top of the chimney, so the views are quite spectacular. The first must have been taken by a drone.

Our time was over too quickly. I just wanted something simple for lunch and a sandwich in Pret a Manger was just right. I did have time to wander around outside the power station, and sat in some shade next to the river in the warm sunshine.

Then it was time to head to Sloane Square for the Royal Court Theatre. A twenty minute walk up Chelsea Bridge Road and I was at the theatre in plenty of time and taking a well deserved rest.