The Cars That Ate Bath

How marvellous, we thought, when we bought Weekender Towers. Frome is only 13 miles from Bath - in addition to the obvious charms of our adopted town, we could also avail ourselves of the cultural delights of the Georgian City. Some hope. We booked tickets for two events at this weekend's Literature Festival - but only managed to get to one of them.

I am all in favour of keeping historic town centres free from being clogged up by the privately-owned internal combustion engine: Park & Ride is a terrific idea. But not a lot of use when the last bus is at 8.30 - and this in a city that prides itself on its cultural offering (ie. things that tend to happen in the evenings). So, as much as we did not want to add to Bath's pollution and congestion, we had to drive in on Saturday afternoon (last train to Frome wasn't an option either, before you ask...) An hour and a quarter later, after a tour of the city's streets and its car parks, we gave up looking for a space and escaped to Limpley Stoke. From where we rang the Box Office: "Hello, we have tickets for two shows today and can't find anywhere to park. Would you like to offer them as returns?" "Certainly - just bring them into the Box Office, here in the City Centre..."

So we abandoned Nick Coleman's talk (sorry) and strolled along the Kennet & Avon instead. We drove back into town just after 5pm by when, inevitably, there were loads of on-street spaces. A couple of glasses of vino italiano and the conversation of the delightful staff of 'Sotto, Sotto' on North Parade eased the frayed nerves. And then we sallied forth (past Sally Lunn's) to the one event we had managed to salvage. And, fortunately, "Jilted" was terrific - a multi-composer, mini-chamber opera for two unaccompanied singers that mused on what would have happened if Mrs Dickens had met Miss Havisham. It took place in the frankly downright ugly chapel of the Mineral Hospital (bad restoration after the WW2 bombing, maybe?), but fortunately the composition and performances easily upstaged the location. The composers included Jocelyn 'Blow The Wind' Pook, the music was contemporary, challenging, but melodic and the two performers - Melanie Pappenheim and Rebecca Askew - were superb, blending humour and pathos with a big dollop of charm. It's a work in progress and well worth keeping an eye out for.

Shakespeare Unplugged? Unnecessary, more like...

Which is more than could be said for Friday night's offering - a free performance of Ben Crystal's stage adaptation of Shakespeare's narrative poem "Venus and Adonis" by Roughhouse Theatre (at least we didn't have to book...)  It took place in the basement of a pub/restaurant (Gascoyne Place), and while Shakespeare might have recognised the ambience (actors' voices struggling against the racket from Friday night drinkers upstairs  - all very Elizabethan), I doubt he would have been very impressed by the interpretation. While "The Rape of Lucrece" has been successfully adapted for performance, 'Venus' is different kettle of iambic pentameter. So little actually happens - Venus (gorgeous, a goddess) gets the hots for Adonis (gorgeous, a mortal). He is more interested in hunting than in her and  - despite eventually succumbing to Venus' wooing  - ends up being gored to death by a boar (serves him right). For Venus this is the end of the world, existence, the universe, Life, being etc etc. Get over it, girl, it was just a one-night stand. And, anyway, goddesses should be above such things. The jokey first half (was the director sending the whole thing up  - or did he just think it needed an injection of humour?) meant that when the tragedy finally came to pass, nobody really gave a damn. Even a faintly embarrassing sex scene failed to inject much interest - I kept thinking how much longer that creaking chair could stand the strain of the writhing couple. The chorus wasn't bad - at least their verse speaking was up to scratch. But the actress playing Venus merely looked the part and I felt quite sorry for Adonis who spent much of the action looking awkward, while trying to avoid being seduced. Just round the corner from the pub is a branch of Superdrug  - and there was more chemistry in there than between our two lovers. Ben Crystal is an admirable advocate for accessibility to the Bard, but I'm not sure this sort of thing does much to help his cause.

Here's a pic of the Palladian Bridge in Prior Park.
It's got nothing to do with the Festival, but it's beautiful, and it's in Bath...

http://www.bathlitfest.org.uk