Some more insights into my theatrically formative years!
- Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead – Criterion Theatre, London, February 1976.
Not the original production, obviously – that was way back in 1966. This revival, produced by the Young Vic, starred Christopher Timothy and Richard O’Callaghan as Hamlet’s chums, and absolutely superb they were too. It was played very much for laughs, so it was a very funny production, but probably missed out on some of the play’s darker aspects. I note with pleasure that they observed the three-act structure, and that this had two intervals of twelve minutes each – wouldn’t happen today. This was a school trip, led by my Stoppard-mad English teacher, Bruce Ritchie. He was influential on us all becoming Stoppard fans, something that I’ve only had to question with his more recent output!
- Sacha Distel at the London Palladium, 19th April 1976.
I always liked Sacha Distel, and it’s impossible to sing Raindrops Keep Falling on my ‘Ead without adopting a faux-French accent. But the reason I jumped at the chance to attend this revue, scheduled for just one week, was the participation of the love of my life, Lynsey de Paul. It was a very good show, with great comedy compering from Kerry Jewel, a brilliant comedy music act from Marti Caine, and Sacha Distel doing his thing as only Sacha Distel could. But I was thrilled to see Lynsey, who sang about six or seven of her best songs, accompanying herself on the piano, and also joining M. Distel for a duet during his act. One of my most memorable nights in a theatre!
- Equus – Albery Theatre (now the Noel Coward, still hate theatre name changes!), London, May 1976.
One of the last occasions where I lost my programme – and what a shame to have lost this one! By this time, Peter Shaffer’s evergreen play had undergone several cast changes, and I saw Colin Blakely as Dysart and Gerry Sundquist as Strang. This was another school trip – quite a bold choice by our English teachers but they knew we’d take it seriously. The staging of this original production included having some of the audience seated on the stage, on steep (and uncomfortable) racks at the back, looking down on to the action from behind – cheap seats, so they put us there, and I found it mesmerising. The fame and success of Equus continues to this day, and I’m grateful to have had the experience of seeing this ground-breaking production.
- Hamlet – Lyttelton Theatre, National, London, June 1976.
This was the inaugural production at the new National Theatre, which had only opened on the South Bank in March 1976. This full, uncut Hamlet lasted almost four and a half hours – quite a feat for a school night (finishing just in time for me to get the midnight train home, but not getting to bed till 1.30 am) but as it was yet another school trip, I had the perfect excuse. The dual pleasure of seeing something that you already knew was going to be a master-achievement, together with one’s first time in the Lyttelton made this another unforgettable experience.
The extraordinary cast included Albert Finney as Hamlet, Denis Quilley as Claudius and the Ghost, Barbara Jefford as Gertrude, Susan Fleetwood as Ophelia, Simon Ward as Laertes, Philip Locke as Horatio and Roland Culver as Polonius. From then on, I wanted to see everything I could at the National – but there’s always been so much on offer that’s an impossible task! A magnificent, austere and awe-inspiring production.
- Tom Stoppard’s Dirty Linen and New-Found-Land – Arts Theatre, 28th June 1976.
Another Stoppard, another school trip, another school night. As a theatregoer, one particular breakthrough moment for me was having the sense to tuck my ticket stub in the spine of my programme, so that I would always know when I saw a show, where I sat and how much it cost. Stalls N1, the grand sum of £1. I didn’t always remember to do it from then on, but it became second nature before long.
Dirty Linen is a curious but funny play, 85 minutes long and split into two halves with the play within the play, New-Found-Land, being the cleverer and funnier of the two. I did, however, enormously enjoy the sense of occasion, the Arts Theatre at the time being delightfully seedy and clubby – you couldn’t get further from the National if you tried.
We were taken by two of our teachers – Bruce Ritchie, naturally, as it was a Stoppard, and Andy Wilson, who the world knows better as A. N. Wilson, writer, thinker, commentator and young fogey, who was my erudite and entertaining companion in seat N2. Excellent performances from Edward de Souza, Peter Bowles and especially Stephen Moore.
- Liza of Lambeth – Shaftesbury Theatre, London, 5th July 1976.
Mum really wanted to see this show as she was a big Somerset Maugham fan, and we went for her birthday, even though it was a school night. It was a bright-hearted, warm fun musical, with some great songs (several of which I still sing to myself) and a great cast. I didn’t know the story and wasn’t prepared for the hugely sad ending – Liza’s kicked to death by the wife of the man who made her pregnant – and I’d fallen in love with Angela Richards, who played Liza!
Patricia Hayes, Michael Robbins, Kate Williams, Tina Martin, Brian Hall and Christopher Neil also all gave sterling performances, and I for one would queue up to see a revival.
- Troilus and Cressida – Young Vic, London, 19th July 1976.
First theatre trip out during the school summer holidays, and the first show I saw on my own since the Sacha Distel Show. This production had originally been intended to open the new Cottesloe Theatre in the National Theatre development, but the theatre wasn’t ready yet, so it had to move to the Young Vic.
On paper it’s a great cast, but I didn’t like it much – primarily because I didn’t understand it. The direction made it hard to follow, and it was only Robert Eddison’s Pandarus that made the whole thing watchable. Maybe they just couldn’t get on with the last-minute switch of venue.
- Donkeys’ Years – Globe Theatre (now the Gielgud), London, 22nd July 1976.
I saw this with my schoolfriend Robin on a Thursday matinee, because we were both big fans of TV’s The Good Life and really wanted to see Penelope Keith perform in person. One of Michael Frayn’s early plays, it’s about a college Gaudy reunion that goes disastrously wrong in many ways. Slow to start, but then it gets pretty funny for Acts Two and Three. We enjoyed it very much, despite the fact that it was a very poor audience. But you’ll remember, gentle reader, how lovely the summer of 1976 was – only theatre nerds were attending matinees and not enjoying the sunshine.
The actors were all excellent. In addition to Penelope Keith, it starred Peter Barkworth, Peter Jeffrey, Julian Curry (Rumpole’s Claude Erskine-Brown) and Jeffry Wickham. Because we wanted to meet Penelope Keith, Robin and I went to the stage door after the show to collect autographs. Everyone who came out was very kind and chatty – but Miss Keith did not appear. The Stage Door Keeper very kindly offered to phone down to her and he reported that she could not come up (can’t remember why) but he would take our autograph books down to her and she would sign them. And so she did.
- Three Sisters – Cambridge Theatre, London, 29th July 1976.
One week later, another matinee, this time on my own. I knew of Chekhov and had already read most of his plays but had never seen one, so I thought I’d be intellectual and give this a try. It was fantastic. An amazing cast featured Janet Suzman as Masha and Nigel Davenport as Vershinin, with Peter Bayliss as a foolish, unpleasant Soliony, Peter Eyre as Toozenbach, John Shrapnel as Prozorov and June Ritchie as his awful wife. The other sisters were a wide-eyed innocent Angela Down as Irena and a mature and sensible Susan Engel as Olga.
Directed in a clear, pared-back and emotional style by Jonathan Miller, who was in the audience – I actually saw him in the Dress Circle bar during the interval but I didn’t speak to him because he looked like he wasn’t enjoying it much. He was the only one who wasn’t. From where I sat in the stalls, for the opening 90 seconds of the play Ms Down was looking directly into my eyes without moving an inch. I stared back. I’m sure that, 45 years later, she remembers that shared moment just as vividly as I do. (joke)
The production had transferred from the Yvonne Arnaud in Guildford but only lasted about two months in the West End. Maybe that’s why Jonathan Miller wasn’t very happy.
- Banana Ridge – Savoy Theatre, London, 5th August 1976.
For some summer comedy, here was a revival of an old Ben Travers farce (old Ben Travers was the flavour of the month as his Bed Before Yesterday was in town – more of that soon) with a pleasing collection of comedy actors including Robert Morley, George Cole (pre-Minder), Joan Sanderson (post-Please Sir), Jan Holden and Vivienne Martin, who had been one of the prankish young ladies of the St Trinians’ films where Mr Cole had been Flash Harry. It was a very successful revival, running for a year.
I remember enjoying it very much; Robert Morley’s character was a hilariously bumbling old man and it was a brilliant portrayal. I also had a very enjoyable time at the stage door, meeting the cast and getting autographs. Mr Morley was gracious, Miss Sanderson was kind; Geoffrey Burridge mis-spelt my name and we had a good laugh about that. Vivienne Martin was very chatty and said that the naughty Mr Morley had spent the entire show trying to make the other cast members corpse – and had I noticed? I said it explained why Mr Cole got flummoxed, and was embarrassed about forgetting his lines.
It was an interesting insight into how a star like Robert Morley would get a bit of fun out of an otherwise dull matinee on a sunny afternoon.
That’s another ten shows in the bag! On Monday it’ll be another holiday snaps blog. B is also for Brazil, and some memories from our trip to Rio in 2011.
An immensely entertaining and successful thriller, where nothing is as it seems, and even the programme lies to you. Mum took me to see this on the last day of the school summer holidays. It ran for about five years, with many changes of cast. To a 12-year-old, this was quite a scary play! Our cast had Marius Goring, best known as TV’s The Expert, and Anthony Valentine, who would become most famous for playing Raffles on TV. I think the only lesson as such that I learned from this show was not to use the programme as a coaster – there’s a tea/coffee ring stain on the cover that irks me to this day!
I’m pretty sure we went to see this during half-term. Mother was very keen on seeing it – I had no particular expectations apart from the fact that I knew Ralph Richardson and Celia Johnson were big names and that it was written by William Douglas Home, who also had a great reputation. I found this play quite boring. It was moving – at times – but I still found comedy involving death in rather poor taste (as my Dad had died at the beginning of the year). In particular, I remember not enjoying the lead character choosing the shade of wood for his own coffin. Slow, morbid, and drab. Somehow it had a quite a nifty run, which went beyond my understanding at the time.
One thing that you can’t fault Anthony Marriott and Alistair Foot for – they knew how to construct a great title! This play had opened in 1971 and ran for sixteen years, becoming the longest running comedy in the English Language – in fact, if you look at the list of most successful UK Theatre productions, as far as longevity is concerned, it’s the only comedy play in the Top Twenty.
My mother was a massive Tommy Steele fan and she was determined to take me to see this show as an Easter holidays treat. I’m not sure that a 13-year-old boy was his target audience; I quite enjoyed it, but didn’t go over the top about it in the way she did. The show was structured so that various support acts were on first, and then an interval followed by an hour of Mr Steele doing his thing. June Bronhill, the coloratura soprano, was the big support act; thinking back I expect I was bored rigid.
Clearly, I hadn’t learned my lesson from seeing The Comedians at the Palladium the previous year – in that what’s successful in one format doesn’t necessarily translate that well to another. Carry On London was a revue starring six of the Carry On team from the famous films – Sid James, Barbara Windsor, Kenneth Connor, Bernard Bresslaw, Peter Butterworth and Jack Douglas. (Jack Douglas in Carry On films? Apparently.) I do recollect that Barbara Windsor didn’t appear and we had her understudy, whose name I’m afraid I cannot recall.
It was very lame, very crude, and very lazy. Sid James just phoned it in. Peter Butterworth played a character in Cleopatra’s boudoir named Grabatiti – I think that says it all. Also in the cast was Trudi van Doorn, a bright and sparkling stage presence who later changed her name to Geraldine Gardner, and became the toast of A Chorus Line as a brilliant Sheila, and also Dick Whittington in Peter Nichols’ Poppy. But this show was a big disappointment.
Some time elapsed before my next theatre trip – but it was well worth the wait. Mother booked it because she really liked Moira Lister, who headed the cast – she always saw herself (rightly or wrongly) as The Very Merry Widow, which was Ms Lister’s successful TV show. When we collected our tickets at the box office, a sign read “not suitable for Under 16s”. I was 14. Mother said it was up to her what was suitable for me and we were going to see it. So if I take any lesson from this show, it’s that any age restrictions in the theatre are merely serving suggestions.
One subject on which I was kind of out of kilter with almost all my schoolfriends – I used to find Larry Grayson absolutely, and unfashionably, hilarious. If you remember, he used weave a magical mesh of made up stories with his pretend characters Slack Alice and Apricot Lil, Postman Pop-it-in Pete and of course Everard. At the age of 14, I don’t think I really understood the gay sub-culture at the heart of what he was talking about – to me, he was just a funny, quirky, chatty, weird kind of guy. Grayson’s Scandals was a typical Palladium revue of its day, with supporting guests, including his friend Noele Gordon (of Crossroads – she was a great singer, I remember her performing “The Hostess with the Mostest” in this show) – and mime/clown artiste George Carl from the Crazy Horse Saloon in Paris.
A lot of fun – although I have a note that suggested there were many microphone issues. Not the first time that’s happened at the Palladium – Cinderella back in 1972 was also blighted with those technical problems.
My first ever opera; I’d been keen to see an opera for a few years as we had some great opera records at home, and it piqued my interest. Mother was very happy to see this with me as she thought it would be “mentally, morally and artistically improving” for me! I can’t remember much about it, apart from the fact that I found the sets particularly stunning. Mother was very annoyed at the people sat next to her because they complained at how pathetic the story line was. “You don’t go to the opera for the story!” she affirmed loudly to me, so that they could hear her. I still haven’t been to many operas over the years, but when I do, I tend to enjoy it. This was on a school night. I think I ended up a great sleepy-head the next day in school – but I did feel very sophisticated.
So this is where it really all took off. After some not insubstantial negotiation with the Dowager Mrs Chrisparkle, she agreed that I could go into London by myself, at the age of 15, from where we lived in Wendover, Bucks, to see a matinee, provided I was home by the 7 o’clock train. Agreed! And this was my first foray into what I considered to be “grown up” theatregoing by myself. I chose Absent Friends because I knew that Alan Ayckbourn was a great comic writer, even though I hadn’t seen any of his work, and also I knew the Garrick, having been there a couple of times already, so it felt especially safe.
The glory of midweek matinees. Having seen Absent Friends on the Wednesday matinee, I was back in the West End the next day to see Otherwise Engaged on the Thursday matinee. I enjoyed this play much more, as it felt more intelligent, more erudite (and presumably more attractive to a pompous little kid). Actually, it’s quite an unpleasant play, revolving around a selfish central character who just wants to lose himself listening to the new recording of Parsifal that he’s just bought, but the outside world keeps on coming in to upset and irritate him. As a result, he does cruel and irreperable damage to the friends and family (and others) who drift into his orbit.
It starred Alan Bates, who I knew was a great name, and I have to say it was a fantastic performance. Also in the cast were Nigel Hawthorne, who would go on to have amazing success as Yes Prime Minister’s Sir Humphrey, Julian Glover, who is still going strong as a much respected actor, and the hugely talented Ian Charleson, in what was I think his West End debut (apart from his Young Vic School training) and whom we lost far too young.
11. To See Such Fun – London Palladium, 25th April 1971.
It may be odd to include this show in theatre reminiscences, but I still have the programme and also the memory of an enormously entertaining show. I’m one of those weird people who actually enjoy clowns, and Oleg Popov was the Master of the genre and I loved watching him. My other main memory of this show is that it was a matinee, due to start at 3pm, when the orchestra started the show with three musical strikes (to suggest the clock striking 3). However… for whatever reason, the show was delayed and didn’t start until about 3.20pm – nevertheless the orchestra still had to start with the three musical notes. I learned from that experience that it’s not always wise to tie down a start time that firmly!
Theatre is never an island; your own experiences and those in the theatre are inextricably linked. I say this because three days before Mum took me to see Cinderella at the Palladium, my dad died. I was 11; she was widowed at 50. In retrospect, I still don’t know whether the decision to go ahead with going to the panto was a wise one or not. It probably was, as I remember enjoying it – it provided a couple of hours of light relief at an otherwise very sad time. Much harder for my mother though, who put on her stiff upper lip throughout, but I remember looking at her from time to time and thinking she’d never looked so sad; and wondering whether it was fair of me to still ask to go to the panto despite everything.
This Christmas Show came back every year from 1964 to 1975 and the Saturday Morning Drama School that I attended had a school visit to see the show. It was written by Peter Howard, head of the Moral Re-Armament movement, and I expect it was the heavy Moral/Christian element of the story that made it feel very worthy but not very sophisticated. What I learned from this show was an ability to start honing my critical faculties where it came to theatre, because, in comparison with all the other shows I’d seen, this was deathly dull. Too childish and patronising for my taste. I hated it!
What I learned from this show is that a successful product in one format does not necessarily translate into a successful product in another format! Granada TV’s The Comedians was a big hit at the time and made stars of the likes of Bernard Manning, Charlie Williams and Ken Goodwin, with its innovative editing and nightclub style presentation. On the vast stage of the Palladium, most of these comics looked and felt very sad indeed. I had particularly wanted to see this show, but Mother was not keen, feeling that their acts were an unfortunate cross between coarse and Northern, not sure which was the more offensive to her! As it was, my memory of it was that their material was very disappointing and not very funny.
Whilst on our annual family week-long summer holiday, which in 1967 was in Bournemouth, my parents took me to see Showtime which starred Des O’Connor and Kenneth McKellar. As a 7-year-old, I have very few memories of the show, but I do remember a sequence where Des O’Connor asked us all if anyone from the audience wanted to join him on stage – there was a brief silence and I remember him saying “come on, speak to Desmond” and just as I was wondering whether I could pluck up the courage to stand up, Jack Douglas emerged from the audience in his character as Alf Ippitittimus (how do you spell that? Two Ips, a Pippi and a Tittimus, which isn’t actually correct but was his catchphrase) and I realised that it was a set-up. That was my first lesson of theatre – things are not always as they seem. It took until 
Not 100% certain of the date but it’s near enough. My first London show, my first pantomime, and my first real sense of the excitement and buzz that theatre can offer – that’s what I learned from this show. I went with my mother because, as I was to discover over the coming decades, the London Palladium was probably her favourite place on Earth and she wanted me to start at the top! Jimmy Tarbuck as Jack, Arthur Askey as the Dame (mother couldn’t stand him), and also the brilliant Charlie Cairoli as the leader of the Strolling Clowns.
A week after Jack and the Beanstalk, Mum took me back into London to see a matinee of Oh! Clarence!, a comedy by John Chapman based on Blandings Castle and other Lord Emsworth stories by P G Wodehouse. What I learned from this production is Look After Your Programme. I left it on the train coming home and was UTTERLY FURIOUS WITH MYSELF for doing so. And in fact, I STILL AM! Fortunately I tracked down a copy of the text which had the full cast details and even a couple of photos, so all is not lost.
This had, for 1969, a stunning cast. Jon Pertwee, Peggy Mount, Ealing comedy hero Naunton Wayne and stage farceur par excellence, Robertson Hare, plus some great supporting names. My only vague memories of the play are that Jon Pertwee spent the whole time in great pain (acting, obviously) and that Peggy Mount played her usual “dragon” character. I made a note at the time that there was a hilarious bedroom scene, although I’m sure the 8-year-old me didn’t understand all the jokes.
The other major significance this production has for me was that it was the first time that I took my autograph book to the stage door after the show came down. With the Dowager Mrs Chrisparkle to watch out for me, I got the autographs of Jon Pertwee (who spent the whole time when he was writing in my book talking to someone else); Austin Trevor – the first actor to play Hercule Poirot on film in the 1930s – who was a very kindly and courteous gentleman to us both; and Harry Roy, the famous bandleader, because, for some strange reason, this production had a totally unnecessary band in the orchestra pit. Just because they could, I guess. It was so exciting meeting these famous people that I became fairly hooked on autograph collecting, as you’ll see over the next few blog posts!
This long-running comedy was my next show – it was already in its fourth year and had a great reputation – it became London’s longest running comedy until its run was surpassed by No Sex Please We’re British. Basically, a TV chef fancies himself as a lady-killer (this was the Swinging Sixties after all) but he meets his match in the character of Marion and they both tame each other down. I didn’t see a panto this Christmas season, but I think this was meant to replace it. Again, I went with Mum, Dad, Nan and Grandad.
What this production taught me was something that’s only recently started to become untrue, but for many years was undeniable. I remember a moment when I laughed a lot at a very funny scene, and I glanced at my watch – and it said 10.15pm. And I remember thinking that every day (apart from Sundays), at 10.15pm, other audiences would be enjoying that very same hilarious moment. It was like a realisation that I would have something in common with future audiences. Furthermore, it led to a sadder thought; which was that when the show finally closed, as it inevitably would, no one would ever share that funny moment at 10.15 ever again. Unlike a film, once a show closes, it closes – and you can never get it back again. Not quite the same today with the filmed versions of NT and RSC shows appearing regularly at your local cinema. But at the time, that sadness that you can’t recapture a live performance really rather upset me! Sensitive little child!
Bookending the other end of school Christmas holidays, I went with Mum to see this Brian Rix farce set in a hotel overrun with babies. An excellent cast, that also starred Leo Franklyn, Robert Dorning, Derek Royle and Michael Kilgarriff. It was a classic Rix affair, with a couple of getting caught with his trousers down moments; you can see a wonderful scene below where the Bishop of Upton (a very unhappy looking Anthony Sharp) discovered the Revd Hubert (Mr Rix) in such an embarrassing position with Sylvia, played by the beautiful Margaret Nolan.
I learned two things from this production. One was that a play can be part of a long tradition of similar productions, as the Souvenir Brochure for his play showed photos and details of all the Brian Rix farces going right back to Reluctant Heroes in 1950. It made me really want to see all the earlier productions, which, of course, was impossible – although I do think there was a TV production of Let Sleeping Wives Lie, which would be enormous fun to track down.
For our summer holiday in 1970, the family went to Shanklin, Isle of Wight, for a week, and whilst there we saw a typical end-of-the-pier show, The Show Inn. I remember very little of this at all, but I see that my programme has the autographs of three of the performers – Bernie Landy, Melody Scott, and Jason Darnel, who, at the age of 84 still maintains a website with reminiscences of all the shows he appeared in. But that’s about all I remember of this show. I’m sure I enjoyed it.
I remember really looking forward to seeing this show, not only because it had such a great cast, but also because I was fascinated by its name. Charles Condomine was played by Patrick Cargill – whom I knew from TV’s Father Dear Father, Ruth was Ursula Howells, Elvira was Amanda Reiss, and Madame Arcati was Beryl Reid. I absolutely loved it; it’s still one of my favourite plays, and I missed out seeing this year’s production with Jennifer Saunders as Madame A because of the dreaded Covid 19. I made at the time though, that it was a rotten audience who didn’t seem to enjoy the show.
My second ever panto, and my second visit to the Palladium. A lavish and hilarious production with yet another superb cast – Cilla Black, Leslie Crowther, Alfred Marks, Terry Scott, Sheila Burnette and Basil Brush. A particularly brilliant scene featured Terry Scott, who played Widow Twankey, being caught on the Magic Carpet as it (apparently) soared over cities and landscapes, looping the loop and doing all sorts of perilous pranks – the comic timing, combined with the special effects, made it something I remember to this day.
What I learned from this experience is if you don’t ask you don’t get. My mother had written to the Palladium weeks before we went, asking if it would be possible to meet Basil Brush before the show – he was always a favourite of mine, and in fact my parents loved him too. To our surprise he wrote back, and invited us to call round at the Stage Door before the show. So we did. And we met Mr Ivor, who was the Original Voice of Basil, who took us into his dressing room, showed me how the puppet worked (Ooops – spoiler! Sorry) and we had a lovely chat. Would you like to go on the Palladium stage? he asked us. 
Mother was even more keen than I was. So he took us through corridors on to the stage, showed us how the famous revolving mechanism worked, and we had an absolutely brilliant chat. Whilst we were backstage I also bumped into Leslie Crowther, who signed my autograph book and was absolutely charming and friendly – see you on stage, were his parting words. By this stage I thought that everything about the theatre is magic. But that’s self-evident, no?
Now in its 19th Year, proclaims the programme – and at the time of Lockdown, it’s in its 68th year! So it’s fair to say it’s been a reasonably successful production. A hokey old thriller, but, if you’re a theatre buff, it’s compulsory viewing. I enjoyed this so much, being a Christie fan even in those youthful days. I thought the murderer was Mr Paravicini, Mum thought it was Mollie Ralston. I’m not going to tell you if either of us was right! I do remember quite a few thrills and chills from the production, which, you have to accept, is a classic.
How’s Lockdown treating you, gentle reader? I hope you and yours are safe and sound, exercising “common sense” (whatever that is) and minimising risks wherever possible. There’s a whole beautiful world out there, where all your friends and relatives are waiting, The Arts are waiting for a kick-start, comics are preparing a barrage of new jokes for us (or they’d better be) and there are exciting places to discover – once it’s safe again. Until then, pull up the drawbridge, log into Zoom, and catch up with your DVDs and books.
I say “books” – as though that was a thing. I don’t know about you, but since Lockdown I have not been able to concentrate on reading AT ALL. I’m too easily distracted, I read a paragraph and instantly forget what I read. So for the moment, my 
Mrs Chrisparkle has discovered cooking! Who knew that there were other items of kitchen equipment apart from the microwave? So that’s great news. And fortunately, fine food always deserves a fine wine – that’s a bonus. As a downside, The Real Chrisparkle’s Facebook page has fallen foul of some odd computer hiccup and I can’t access it at all. So if you check that page every so often – I wouldn’t bother, nothing’s going to be happening there for some time, I fear.
