musical

  • Can’t drive, won’t drive, refuse to drive. I’ve a whole story about a wing mirror and a driving instructor that was part tutor part devil-man egomaniac in charge of a set of dual controls. But that’s not for now. What I’m saying is that as a result, I am the girl on the train/tram/bus. And

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  • Let’s start on a positive before I get lambasted for the abhorrent festive oversight I’m about to confess to. Christmas films I have seen (not exhaustive or including, to my shame, those afternoon ones on Five where top exec who relocated to city returns home to twee town she grew up in, for Christmas, falls

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  • The football pools. I was too young to partake at their peak but that doesn’t take away memories of the pools man knocking on the door every week and the parental mad dash to find the coupon, and random shouting out of numbers, each corresponding to a fixture that weekend…each a prediction of a score

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  • I was a little devilish last night. Provocative, even. But for the greater good, you understand. Seated in that glorious cavern that is 53two, underneath the arches on Watson Street, I scrambled to get a pre-performance shot of the set, uploaded to my Instagram (I don’t deal in shortening names – no Instas, no Maccy

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  • Jesus Christ Superstar indeed. I loved it. Absolutely loved it. Hoping for a more sophisticated, somewhat less basic lead in to a blog post review of my theatrical experience of a production in the Greater Manchester area? I choose childlike exuberance on this occasion. My regular reader will be more than au fait with the

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  • Ohhh. I’m conflicted. Well I’m not, I know what I need to say, I’m just not comfortable saying it. This blog post isn’t going to go how I thought it might. We were going to get my oft-said unnecessary and tedious proclamation of how on the whole I don’t really enjoy musicals. But how I

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  • I can remember the first time I heard those ticking clocks. It was a friend’s birthday party at her house and we all sat round as the video was put on. The excitement was real as those clocks ticked and the camera panned across the Doc’s home and workshop in a garage in the fictional

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  • Billed as Sting’s personal, political and passionate musical, this was a ship that I wasn’t prepare to let sail by without an inquisitive look. On a tour of UK and Ireland, The Last Ship sailed into the Quays last night, making its debut at The Lowry theatre. I have already used two puns both based

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