Tag: East Anglia

A Family Affair

This week has been a double bill of showbiz fun featuring our local innkeeper’s talented family. First to mince across the boards was the master of the house himself, Simon Peck. Simon played Roger De Bris in The Producers, Mel Brooks’ notorious black comedy. The story centres around a dodgy theatre producer and his accountant who together hatch a get-rich-quick scheme to swindle investors – by staging a gay romp about Hitler that’s designed to fail. De Bris, an uber-camp, cross-dressing director whose shows rarely get past the first reading, is hired to make doubly sure the musical flops.

If offence is easily taken, then Springtime for Hitler, the musical within a musical, is superficially offensive on every level. But it’s outstanding, a satirical piss-take at its most piercing. And Simon Peck was brilliant in it as the OTT limp-wristed luvvie – as camp as a row of tents – a role he was simply born to play.

Down the years, The Producers has achieved cult status and expectations were high, but we needn’t have worried. The entire top-notch cast at The Pavilion Theatre Gorleston put in a stonking performance. These two old gay luvvies loved it.

Talking of cross-dressing, next up was a stage version of the 1998 film romcom Shakespeare in Love from The Echo Youth Theatre at The Garage in Norwich. Echo Youth always put on a good show. And for this production, gender roles were mostly reversed. Whether this was due to a shortage of boys in the company or as a statement about the ban on female actors in Shakespeare’s day (a key theme in the plot), it worked extremely well.

Young starlet in the making, Alice Peck, played one of the leads as playwright Christopher Marlowe, a contemporary of the Bard. In the show (as in real life), Marlowe comes to a sticky end in a pub brawl. Ms Peck gave a glowing performance, lighting up the stage. And she died well too. In a good way, of course. Alice’s brother, Rory, whose principal role was playing clarinet in the chorus, had a hand in her undoing. Did he volunteer? We can’t say.

A special mention must go to the young chap playing Elizabeth I. Let’s face it, Judi Dench is a tough act to follow and he did a great job. Oscars all round, we thought.

Pigs in the Proverbial

It’s now been five years since we moved out to the sticks. One day we were enjoying city centre living like pigs in the proverbial, the next we were in the smallest cottage in the county surrounded by the stuff. Such is country life in the Norfolk flatlands.

We’ve been invaded by ants, spiders, moles, slugs and rabbits, been charged at by a seriously pissed-off heffer and kept awake by bloodcurdling screeching and the unforgiving dawn squawk. We’ve also endured fierce storms, leaks and the occasional power cut. And like everyone else, we were put under house arrest by a pandemic.

Local wildlife of the human kind is mostly friendly, though. No doubt, the odd blue-crested bigot still lurks in the undergrowth, but they’re an endangered species nowadays.

It’s our sixth move since we met that fateful evening 18 years ago in a West End gay bar, and unless we end up in a maximum security care home for the bewildered, I reckon this’ll be our final resting place. Never did I imagine as a young gay about London town that I would end my days in the middle of nowhere. But I’ve never been happier or more satisfied with my lot. I feel blessed.

Norwich Pride

Sadly, we missed Norwich Pride. As novice Norwichians, we hang our heads in shame. The event was held the day after the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games. The greatest show on Earth or the best show in Town? What’s a boy to do? We chose the former. Sorry. Had we not been nursing a hangover of Olympic proportions, we might have made it to march and mince with the rainbow people. Next year we’ll be there. Promise.

I hear the affair was a great success. Here are some pictures (courtesy of Steve Adams and the Norwich Evening News).

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Pipe and Slippers

We’re hoping to start our East Anglian adventure in a brand spanking new city-centre designer pad with a high spec and low bills: a six month probation while we try the city on for size.

Ancient Norwic is a young person’s university city with a vibrant crowd and a thriving arts scene; these old nags aren’t quite ready for the knacker’s yard just yet. I’ve chucked my old floppy slippers in the bin. Now they were knackered. Ironically, I bought my first ever pair of slippers in the Bodrum branch of Marks and Sparks, a soft shoe shuffle designed to keep my little tootsies warm during the challenging Bodrum winters.

We’ve been struggling to become a fag-free family, frequently falling off the wagon, usually after a session on the sauce. This time, things will be different. We’re determined to kick the filthy habit (famous last words, I hear you mutter at the back). The £8 a packet price tag would drive us into the greasy hands of Blighty loan sharks. Yes, my friends, times have changed. They’ll be no pipe and slippers for us in our new gaff.