When I got home I looked it up, and I was pleased to find that there was a show coming up at an arts centre more close to home. I booked tickets, and we went to see it. We took Miss Tween, even though we knew it wasn't really going to be her thing. Her nan, my aunt, would have loved it, and I would have taken her (were she still here). So, we took Miss Tween instead.
It was a lovely evening.
The first half of the show was Joyce an her pianist rehearsing and chatting. In a very casual way, they managed to impart a great deal of information about Joyce's life (she mentored Clive James!), and they got in a few sketches/songs under the guise ofrehearsing them.
The second half was Joyce performing. I had completely forgotten just how poignant and sharp some of her observations were, they weren't all funny. I cried at a couple of simple songs and a couple of clever subtle sketches. The evening included some of the most famous funny ones (George, don't do that!), and I was happy to see them performed.
Last time I saw anything like this was years ago. We went to London to see Maureen Lipman in Re: Joyce, which was incredibly moving. I cried all the way back to the train.
Miss Tween said she enjoyed it. What she meant was she enjoyed having an evening out with us. She didn't dislike the show, but most of it went over her head. I'm not surprised. I'm hoping that she may revist Joyce Grenfell when she's older.
