I have never really had my finger on the pulse. When all around were wearing drainpipe jeans I was sporting flares and whatever is the ‘in’ colour, it’s not in my wardrobe.
I remember in my 20s sharing a flat in London – the others would be into house music (yes, it is that long ago) laughing at me listening to country & western. One of my favourites was Patsy Cline, a long dead singer whose voice I just loved.
When I saw that there was a show about her being staged in December at the Rose Theatre it was a no brainer to buy tickets. Even better she was being played by Gail Watson who I saw during the Fringe and she blew my socks off.
The cherry on the top was that this was written and directed by the brilliant Morag Fullerton. And if that wasn’t all, your ticket also meant you were given a complimentary mini-bottle of wine before it even started.
So I toddled along on Wednesday night, slipping on the icy pavement and braving the elements. I was not the only one, as the theatre was pretty busy with several faces I knew in the audience.
Well, needless to say it was absolutely brilliant. Gail sounded so like Patsy Cline and was never off the stage for two hours (apart from the interval of course). As you would expect with Fullerton’s work, there was lots of humour among the sadness of Cline’s life with the other actors putting on great performances as well.
As we left, the general consensus was that the show wouldn’t be out of place in London’s West End and many of those of my age were talking about her life and music in awe.
One of them was an ex-flatmate and I took great joy in reminding her of how she and the others would scoff at my choice of music.
So right now I am feeling fairly chipper about myself. All I really need to know now is what shape and colour of trousers I should be wearing.