Tag Archives: theatre

What I did on my summer vacation (and what gives me nightmares)

I remember dreading this first-day-of-school assignment, because we did the same thing every  summer. We went to the cottage, which I enjoyed on some levels, but it forced me away from my Dad and my friends, which I didn’t enjoy. I loved the daytime, being outside, swimming, lying on my grandmother’s quilts on the lawn reading comics and eating watermelon. But at night, the sheets were clammy with humidity and it was far too dark. Inevitably, I’d wake in the depths of the night, unable to see my hand in front of me, and get so scared I’d start crying. For years, all my nightmares were of being hunted by malicious forces at the cottage. Having spent months up there as an adult, I’m happy to report that the place of the cottage in my dream world has shifted to one of light.

This past summer, for the most part, I stayed in Toronto; the brief time I was at the cottage, my allergies were awful, so I avoided a prolonged stay. This summer’s highlight was certainly the band reunion, and everything leading up to and away from that.

In August, I made my annual foray to the Shaw Festival in Niagara-on-the-Lake (NOTL). I was late booking, so missed one play I wanted to see and was unable to book my usual B & B, although I did have a visit with Lynn, the owner. I had mixed feelings about my last-minute accommodations, but I enjoyed the birds’ nest behind one of the window shutters. The chatty chicks were nearly as big as their parents and beginning to venture into the huge maple a few feet away.

A small part of the Niagara peach harvest.

A small part of the Niagara peach harvest.

This year, I didn’t visit as many stores or spend much money, and I think I enjoyed NOTL even more as a result. For the first time, I was there during Peach Festival and I think that’s something I’d like to repeat. Three blocks of the main drag, Queen Street, were closed to traffic, allowing vendors to sell locally grown peaches and peach baked goods. In the evening, tables were set up along the street for gourmet dining and local wine sampling. The festival was alive with music; folk, rock, jazz, salsa—even bagpipes. The street felt very different, more relaxed, in part because I could wander back and forth as things caught my attention. The weather was fantastic, beautiful, clear and sunny. At one point, the local biker gang buzzed through town, about thirty of them, so hard not to notice. An interesting contrast. Lots of people were out enjoying the weekend; I even saw Shaw Festival actor Patrick Gallaghan out with his wife buying baked goods.

I’d intentionally left my Saturday evening free, thinking I might indulge in a gourmet meal. But I didn’t feel like it, so instead, I went on a Ghost Walk of NOTL with Lady Cassandra. This was a significant year for such a walk, as it’s the 200th anniversary of the War of 1812. For six months during 1813, the Americans occupied this small, but strategic, town, then called Newark. This summer, NOTL flew the vintage fifteen-star American flag alongside the Canadian flag, to mark the anniversary. Historically, there’s a lot of pain in this soil. When the Americans left, they razed the town, leaving about 400 residents, mostly women, children and the elderly, without shelter in December. Many froze to death. This cruel civilian attack was condemned by both the British and Americans. It also laid the course for reprisals, including the burning of the original White House. While the town was rebuilt, many lives were lost, some brutally, during the war years. And the losses didn’t end with the conclusion of that war. The room I stayed in is occasionally haunted by its former occupant, a young woman who committed suicide after her American husband was killed at the Battle of Gettysburg in the summer of 1863 during the American Civil War. Abagail reportedly doesn’t haunt romantics, so I was left in peace, however, those of you who know me well know that I’m highly impressionable when it comes to spooky stuff. I don’t do horror movies because the images haunt me for weeks or even months. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well and yes, I had to check under the bed a couple of times because I kept getting flashes from an Evil Dead movie trailer.

Self-portrait in Abagail's Rest. Spooky.

Self-portrait in Abagail’s Rest. Spooky.

And, oh yeah, I went to three plays. With the number of actor friends I have, I’m embarrassed to admit that I’d never seen the classic, Guys and Dolls. I was surprised that I knew at least half the score. Although I’d heard Bugs Bunny described as a Damon Runyon-esque character, I’d never understood the parallel until seeing this play. Wow. Talk about a culturally influential show! Peace in Our Time, a later Shaw play, wasn’t, in my opinion, one of his best. Although full of social and anti-war comment, it lacked the level of wit I generally associate with GBS. It felt very heavy handed and static. Oscar Wilde’s Lady Windermere’s Fan, on the other hand, was lovely. A thrilling satire that skewers Victorian morals, it contains such immortal lines as: “I can resist everything except temptation” and “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” I really enjoyed the acting, staging and costumes in this production. The music choices between acts were…unexpected: Velvet Underground’s “All Tomorrow’s Parties,” Rufus Wainwright’s “Art Teacher” and Katy Perry’s “Firework.” While I kind of understood the significance of the first two, the final choice seemed to overwhelm the play’s finale, but that is a minor complaint. If you want to visit Shawfest, all three plays continue into mid-October or early November.

This was the second time I took transit to NOTL and it just doesn’t work well, so I’ll probably go back to renting a car. The GO schedule doesn’t take curtain time into consideration, so play-goers may have to cab it from either St Catharines or Niagara Falls. Of course, the  other advantage of a car is that I can stock up on local fruit and wine before heading back to the city.

Morning Glory

Morning Glory

At home, my balcony garden really took off this year. As well as violas, morning glories, marigolds, portulaca, begonias, impatiens, and sweet potato vines, I tried a gerbera daisy for the first time. It’s been sending up bright new blossoms all summer. The quality and range of floral colours have been lovely and it’s been really gratifying to have bees visiting my sixth-floor balcony. Additionally, I tried growing vegetables this year. I started them indoors from seed, probably a little late. I have about a dozen tomatoes, half-a-dozen cucumbers, and an uncertain number of peppers coming along. It was more successful than my previous attempt at a balcony vegetable garden, and I learned a few things, so plan to try again next year.

CNE midway at dusk

CNE midway at dusk

My friend James and I made our annual pilgrimage to the Canadian National Exhibition (CNE) and did some of the usual things and a few new things. We saw an intimate performance of the Flying Wallendas’ high-wire act. We missed the Super Dogs, so we checked out the miniature horses instead. We also walked through the cat show, which consisted of a variety of over-bred felines, mostly sleeping in their carriers. I was really taken with the Savannah cats, until I found out that they’re a cross between a wild serval and a domestic cat, only recently accepted as a new breed. Although a striking and affectionate cat, I don’t know why people can’t just leave wild cats alone to do what they do in their natural habitat. I was also really glad to see a large booth for Ninth Life Cat Rescue, an organization that rescues cats from death row in shelters, housing them until they can be adopted. If you’re considering feline companionship, personally, I think adopting from a shelter is a more responsible way to go. We wandered through the international pavilion, watched people on midway rides, and, after much consideration, I ate a deep fried Mars Bar, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

In other news, I completed the revised draft of Pairs & Artichoke Hearts. I got some great feedback from one of my first readers, and there’s some further work I’d like to do before sending out queries. I was also able to get back to writing my PhD dissertation; last year’s car accident did a number on my cognitive abilities, among other things, but I feel like my head is finally fully back in the game. I drove for the first time since the accident, even at night and in the rain, and nothing bad happened. I attended four funerals and a wedding, the ratio perhaps a sign of age. I did some non-academic reading, including Haruki Murakami’s 1Q84 (all 925 pages), as well as some hybrid hardboiled science fiction, and some comic books. I went to a few movies, notably Red 2, Iron Man 3, and Joss Whedon’s Much Ado About Nothing.

I took more time off than I’d intended, but the upside of that is now I’m eager to get back to schoolwork! And that’s a good thing.

© Catherine Jenkins 2013

Summer 2008

Summer’s barely arrived and I’m just back from my annual jaunt to the Shaw Festival in Niagara-on-the-Lake. As always, it was a great time, a complete time-out from day-to-day reality. I caught three plays while I was there: Sondheim and Wheeler’s A Little Night Music, GB Shaw’s Getting Married and JB Priestley’s An Inspector Calls. I enjoyed them all, probably for different reasons.

Night Music was produced at the Court House Theatre, the smallest stage at the Festival. Considering it’s a musical, that was an interesting decision. As someone who hasn’t previously seen it produced, I kept wondering if I wouldn’t enjoy it more on a larger stage. The production seemed a little uneven to me, but what do I know? Some great catchy tunes and one-liners. It was fun to finally see “Send in the Clowns” in the original context. Outrageous males egos justifiably taken down a few notches and a happy romantic ending to boot! Who could ask for more?

Getting Married is an early and not particularly well-known Shaw play. It demonstrates his usual wit and intelligence, this time around the issue of marriage, Edwardian style. Shaw skewers laws regarding women’s rights, men’s responsibilities and the lack of accessible divorce. Although many of these laws have changed for the better and the social safety net is more supportive than it was, there are still many truths here.

I especially enjoyed the atmospheric production of An Inspector Calls. Fascinating and timeless social commentary guised as a whodunit. An incredibly prolific writer of plays, fiction and social comment, Priestley wrote An Inspector Calls mid-career, just as WWII was winding down. Priestley works an unexpected magic with time and perspective, something we tend to associate more with post-modernist writers of a slightly later period. Well worth seeing.

Although I enjoyed the plays, I was also struck by the advanced years of most of the patrons. Although I’ve noticed this in previous years, it’s becoming more noticeable with each passing season. I start wondering if the majority of Shaw-goers are the original theatregoers who established their membership in the 1960s (the Festival was established the same year I was).

After I got settled in to enjoy A Little Night Music and had helped my neighbour stow her cane beneath our seats, she asked, “What are we here to see, dear?” Overhearing audience conversation at other shows, it became apparent that many of the patrons had no idea what they were seeing. They seemed to be there out of ritual, rather than interest. Which begs the question, what’s going to happen in the next ten years when this audience starts expiring?

I was also more aware of the Festival’s attempts to accommodate patrons with disabilities. At the Royal George, I watched two ushers wielding a ramp into place so an audience member could come and go through the side door. Although an elevator has been installed at The Court House, it’s inadequate to the demands of traffic and theatregoers still have to walk up several stairs, complaining loudly as they go.

The Shaw has also introduced headsets to aid the hearing impaired. Throughout An Inspector Calls, a portion of the audience, myself included, were exposed to the ongoing shriek of electronic feedback because a gentleman was using one of these devices improperly in conjunction with his hearing aid. There were also very loud comments between himself and his equally deaf companion declaring that the headset wasn’t working during the nearly silent atmospheric moments of the play.

While I support the Shaw’s efforts at providing resources to improve access, I humbly suggest that they invest a little more effort so that the enjoyment of other audience members isn’t so adversely affected.

I also took a day to just wander around downtown Niagara-on-the-Lake. While I noticed some closed shops and peak-season sales last year, it was even more noticeable this time. Storefronts on the main drag were up for lease and the majority of shops seemed to have sales. It just seemed the picture of a small town in crisis.

Still, it was a lovely day. The sun was shining, the flowers blooming. I enjoyed a picnic lunch in the park while watching a little one with her Mum parade through the fountain. It was a day to relax, to be nowhere in particular, and that was a pleasant and welcome change.

Now I’m back home and back writing. I’ve just put the finishing touches on Charlie & Moon & Skye & I, something that’s essentially been finished for years. But it feels good to do the final polish and prepare to start sending it to publishers. It’s a long poem with accompanying colour photos, what some would call a gift book. Looking forward to having it out there at last. Also looking forward to bearing down on the other five book projects at various stages of incompletion. It feels good to be tapping into the time, energy and motivation to do my own work again, at long last.

Still ahead this summer, I’m making plans to visit my grade eight teacher in Wellington. She’s promised to show me the sights of Prince Edward County, a lovely part of the province.

I’ve also booked the family cottage for a couple of weeks and hope to spend that time simply relaxing, reading fun stuff and hanging out with friends. I figure I owe myself a real holiday before school starts.

Oh, I guess I should mention that. I’m returning to school this fall to begin my PhD in Communication and Culture. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for years, but it didn’t make sense with the family situation. I didn’t want to begin something and then have to pull out partway through because of a family crisis. So now that things have come to their natural conclusion, I can focus on this effort without that enormous weight. I’m excited and a little nervous to be going back, but I think it’s going to be overwhelmingly positive. The timing seems perfect. And as to what else I’ll get up to, I’ll see when I get there!thisisnot 5:31

Cheers and enjoy the summer!

© Catherine Jenkins 2008

July Aug 2004

Some time ago, I purchased tickets for my now annual jaunt to the Shaw Festival in Niagara-on-the-Lake. After a difficult winter, I was really looking forward to the time out, the time away, then it was suddenly upon me! This week, I took a well-earned break and am feeling much better for it.

It started with a reasonably pleasant drive to NOTL. I have the use of my folks’ car this summer, so was able to listen to CHUM-FM Oldies all the way. Not necessarily my first choice, but fun nevertheless. I didn’t really begin to unwind until I spied my first winery sign, followed by several fruit stands. I knew I was getting close. I got into town with enough time to browse a few of the expensive shops. NOTL is priced for American retirees, still, it’s pleasant to look.

I indulged in dinner at The Shaw Village before the show. I was pleased to note that the rather affronting Leather Shop, which previously existed behind the statue of the ardent vegetarian GBS, had gone. That store has now given over to candles and spa paraphernalia, similar to the site’s original use. Apparently one Henry Pafford (I hope I’ve spelled that correctly. As usual, it was difficult to read my notes.) once established an apothecary and candle shop there. However, I was somewhat amazed that the Shaw Village Café and Wine Bar still serves a Shaw Burger, featuring “half a pound of lean ground beef.” Ah, well. I keep wondering how GBS would’ve reacted.

I sat inside, looking through open French doors, enjoying a Portobello Mushroom with melted Brie, red pepper and onion jam, accompanied by the recommended Kir Royale and really started to relax. I enjoyed the sky, the day, the old trees, the new flowers, jazz playing in the background. Most of the other patrons were old, the staff young; my demographic, almost unique in this atmosphere. I watched the waiter wire patio chairs and tables together so they couldn’t escape… I listened to old folks laughing… I caught an elderly man smiling at me over his wife’s shoulder as he popped the last strawberry into his mouth, while I accidentally slurped my water like a twelve-year-old.

For my main course, I had Mixed Limed Greens with a Chicken Breast, the flaked coconut an unexpected surprise and lovely additional flavour, accompanied by the recommended Riesling. Because I’d gone light on the entrée, I treated myself to a Chocolate Raspberry Tart with a Café au Lait for desert. Normally I eat pretty hand-to-mouth; NOTL is my annual treat, my chance to indulge guilt-free, but only because I choose to leave my guilt at home.

Of course I’m writing all this down as I’m doing it. I always fantasize that the wait staff thinks I’m a food critic when I write while dining. A little Monsieur Pamplemousse moment (a series of comic gastronomic mysteries by Michael Bond… excellent summer reading fare!).

Pleasantly satiated, I walked across the street for my first play, The Importance of Being Earnest. It was a wonderful production of this perfectly constructed comedy, with fast pacing, brilliant timing and a lot of laughs. Although a period piece, many of Wilde’s observations are so accurate, they’re timeless.

I wouldn’t have minded an herbal tea after the show, but not finding anyplace open, I settled for a short walk instead, then went back to the B&B for the best night’s sleep I’ve had in months. I slept later than usual, had a leisurely breakfast and chat with my hostess, Lynn, and then was on my way again.

I got to the theatre about 11 a.m. for an 11:30 start and just missed the last parking space, but was able to find another fairly close by. Everything’s close by in NOTL. My second feature was an event: the complete version of Man & Superman including the Don Juan in Hell sequence… about six hours of play, including two intermissions and a lunch break. Wonderful! Brilliant! Although not all the attendant audience would agree. It was clear from snatches of conversation during breaks, that a few felt put-upon at having to wade through such a long production. So why did they buy these tickets when Shaw is also producing the truncated version of Man & Superman without the play-within-a-play?

Shaw is brilliant! This play, billed by Shaw himself as “A Comedy and A Philosophy” is packed. Now I have to sit down and read it, because I know there were points and arguments I’d like to mull over. Shaw was a mature person and writer when he created this play and his observations of humanity are painfully accurate, yet he consistently writes in a manner that makes us laugh at ourselves. It’s taken me a while to understand how humour is the most disarming and sharpest tool for getting inside people’s heads and under their skins, for getting them to understand unpleasant or difficult things.

And while watching Man & Superman I kept wondering how audiences of the early nineteen-aughts would’ve reacted. I’m certain it must’ve caused quite a stir. Not only was this playwright audacious enough to contrive a six hour play, he also created intelligent female characters and placed members of the clergy in Hell! Simultaneously, I was amazed at how incredibly relevant much of its content still is. That kind of longevity is the mark of true creative genius.

After the play, I wound back to Toronto, feeling elated and relaxed, thought-provoked and creative! It was a wonderful and much-needed respite, an opportunity to think, to recharge and get my priorities back in order.

Since my return, I have not cleaned my apartment, sorted out my balcony, done any commercial work or worried about family matters. Instead, I’ve caught some plays at the Toronto Fringe Festival, gone to a BBQ with my Mum and Dad, read mystery novels, lain in the sun, eaten fruit, played with the cats, drunk cheap wine, relaxed and slept. For almost a whole week. And I honestly don’t remember the last time I did anything so indulgent. It’s certainly been well over a year. Now I’m feeling revved up and ready to get back to my own writing and all the usual stuff (see above), but relieved of much energy wasting stress and worry.

© Catherine Jenkins 2004