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Stratford follies

It's another warm, sunny day at the farmette. We've had a string of them over the past week, and the plants are really showing it.

Yesterday, we went down to Stratford to take in Rob's birthday present - lunch and a showing of Spamalot.


Since his actual birthday is in the dead of winter - February 1st - I have started getting him show tickets for when the weather is more amenable or amiable or something.


Anyhow, we couldn't ask for a better day for a drive.


Down there, things are about a week or two ahead of us plant-wise. The crabapples are in full show, as you can see.


We had brunch at Cafe Bouffon - right in the heart of the city. It's a lovely French resto where the waiters and waitresses wear black and white stripes, the food is fabulous and it's not terribly expensive. We even got some Riesling to celebrate.

The birthday boy was in a very good mood, as you can see.


It's hard to fathom that he's 75 now. Makes me wonder where the last thirty years went, because that's how long we've been together.


Still, we're pretty spry, and chugging along despite the creaks and groans. It's all good.


After eating too much food, we toddled down to the lake for a bit of a walk before the show.


There were lots of others out and about enjoying the day. Even the ducks seemed to be contented as they lounged on the banks.


The main attraction - Spamalot - was an absolute hoot, with a stunning surprise ending.


It's based on Monty Python's work and it's a musical - something Rob usually doesn't really appreciate, but, given Eric Idle's sensibility, it's actually a huge sendup of musicals. The story is King Arthur's quest for the Holy Grail, and it has all the classic bits - Knights who say Ni! The killer rabbit of Caerbannog. A French castle with guards who say things like, "I fart in your general direction".


Towards the end of the show, Arthur, his servant/horse Patsy who also uses coconut shells to sound like hooves, and the Knights of the Round Table descended down into the audience to search for the Grail. And they found it - under the seat in front of me.


When the lady who occupied the seat refused their invitation to go up on the stage to get congratulated for having the Grail, I put my hand up. Poor Patsy was looking a bit panicked because the show was actually being held up momentarily.


Holy smokes. Never done anything like that in my life. They lauded the 'peasant' and thanked me profusely. I even got a cheesy trophy out of it, which I tried to return, but they told me I could keep it.

They also took a Polaroid, which is what they're doing in the photo above. Here's what the actual photo looks like. Sir Dennis Galahad is the blond who kept flicking his hair because he was so vain.


Apparently, I did a decent job, because a woman in the theatre shop congratulated me after the play was over.


While the footlights were really fun for a minute, I don't think I'll be answering their siren song. I'll stick to my writing, thanks. Until next week.


Gratuitous cat photo courtesy of Beatrix, who decided to walk all over my keyboard while I was trying to write this. She finally settled in the office cat box.










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