Yarr, it be Talk Like A Pirate Day. So a’ve ‘ad a mince pie. Be thinking the ho hos be gettin’ confused…
Back near the beginnings of London’s underground transport system (which is mainly overground) the Metropolitan Line came into existence. Part its success was the genius idea to buy up the land around London through which the line was about to be extended and build houses on it, selling these to what would become the commuter classes (with the promise of green open spaces which were quickly built on to provide more housing to sell…). Thus grew London, and with it, serving and driving it in a positive feedback cycle, the Metropolitan line running through what became known as Metroland, suburbia writ large.
Having, for once, not see Shakespeare in Chester we weren’t about to miss out on open air Bard. Luckily Hall Place was coming to our rescue, allowing Heather, Gemma and I to go and see A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
The play was being put on by The Pantaloons Theatre Group, who I’d vaguely heard of before but never seen. They turned out to be a treat, with a totally non-serious approach to Shakespeare and plenty of (not overbearing) audience participation. We laughed quite hard, and are already looking forward to what they might bring next year.