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4:47pm on Sunday, 25th November, 2018:

Oedipus in Boots


We were in Bristol this weekend to see our elder daughter, meeting her partner's parents for the first time. They made a good impression on me; I'm not so sure that I made such a good impression on them, but I'm sure I'll have chance to remedy that on future occasions.

Yesterday evening, we all went to see a play, Oedipuss in Boots, which basically told the story of Oedipus except with Oedipus being a cat. The cat was a puppet worn by one of the cast members and was pretty well done, I thought; sadly, I couldn't really take any photos without risking being thrown out. The ears made an appearance in the interval on the ice-cream seller, which is where I took the picture below. Yes, I did have a really good view marred only by a pillar right in the middle.

This kind of play is very Bristol. You'll see something similar in parts of London (because you can see anything and everything in parts of London), but of non-London large British cities you're limited to Bristol, Edinburgh, and possibly Manchester and Cambridge. It requires a certain culture and a critical mass of theatre-goers who'll fill a 100-seat theatre every night for two months on the strength of a weak pun.

It was also very Bristol that when the show was over we emerged from the theatre into the pub upstairs and found it was some kind of transvesite/transgender music night. I did wonder why there was a gender-neutral sign on the toilets despite the fact that they had urinals all along one wall.

There is something to be said for living in a city rather than in a village outside a town, although it does rather depend on the city.

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Copyright © 2018 Richard Bartle (richard@mud.co.uk).