Recovered Posts, Reviews

Brief Encounter

So, I’m sort of back in the world of blog. Or at least, that’s the intention. Thank you to all of you who expressed concern about my disappearance, nothing terrible has happened to keep me away, mainly just the long commute taking its toll. However house hunting is now in progress and by the end of the year we intend to have moved closer to London, hopefully halving the amount of time I spend on a train each day.

So now, guess what I’ve been doing for the last few months? Yep, theatre and comedy trips. There is a reason I have no money!

Anyone still here from many many moons ago will know of my love of the Kneehigh Theatre productions that I’ve seen in the past (Tristan & Yseult, Nights at the Circus, Cymbeline, A Matter of Life and Death). I took Mum to see the preview night of their latest production yesterday, Noel Coward’s “Brief Encounter” as adapted by Emma Rice and currently showing at the Birmingham REP theatre.

In true Kneehigh style, the story combines the serious with the comic, interweaving music and poetry. I’ve never seen the film of Brief Encounter, but I loved the play, and recommend that you add it to your list of things to do. (For a more comprehensive review, look here.)

As with all Kneehigh productions, this one again left me with something running around my head:

I am no good at love
My heart should be wise and free
I kill the unfortunate golden goose
Whoever it may be
With over-articulate tenderness
And too much intensity.

I am no good at love
I batter it out of shape
Suspicion tears at my sleepless mind
And gibbering like an ape,
I lie alone in the endless dark
Knowing there’s no escape.

I am no good at love
When my easy heart I yield
Wild words come tumbling from my mouth
Which should have stayed concealed;
And my jealousy turns a bed of bliss
Into a battlefield.

I am no good at love
I betray it with little sins
For I feel the misery of the end
In the moment that it begins
And the bitterness of the last good-bye
Is the bitterness that wins.


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