![]() Over here, I won't have to sit next to anyone but Allison. "Shall we sit over there?" I suggest, already making my way over to the other end. The type of seats that you'd expect to see at a wedding reception. The seats are all lined up on a raked platform. Not unless they added a couple of jokers to the pack. Bigger than I expected given there can't be more than fifty-two seats in here. As promised, there is someone on the door to take our cards from us. We go out into the corridor, passing the loos, and heading towards the entrance to the auditorium. With the artwork on one said and all the credits on the other. "And here's a free programme," adds the box officer, handing over a pair of freesheets. Except their ones are new and avoided the laminator in favour of a hole punch. They do the same thing over at Camden Peoples' Theatre. "When you check in, you get playing cards, which you hand over on the door."Īh, I see. Slightly beaten up and a bit grimy under their plastic coatings. They've been laminated, but that's exactly what they are. "Great." She holds out two playing cards. The box officer smiles indulgently at the pair of us, clearly used to people being as useless as us. "I don't even know what they are!" she replies. "Have we?" I say, turning back to Allison, having completely forgotten the conversation we'd had all of three minutes ago. "Hi ladies! Have you got your playing cards?" No one is going anywhere fast.Īs we pass the box office the young woman behind the counter calls out to us. "It was totally dead when I first got here."Ī front of houser makes an announcement. "It suddenly filled up," explains Allison as I take in the bustle surrounding us. As long as I'm not alone in my ignorance. "There's a sign out there saying we should pick up a playing card." I turn my phone around to show Allison the picture I took. ![]() "So," I say, pulling myself together and getting out my phone. well, I'd never leave the house ever again. Probably not the best condition to be in when going to see an opera, but if I stayed home every time I coughed. Well, as fine as one can when you literally can't lie down without your lungs trying to escape through your mouth. But the type of really intense, hacking, cough that goes hand-in-tissue with the worst sort of man-flu.īut as I keep on telling my boss, I feel fine. Not just the cough that I've had for over a year at this point. "I'm ill," I tell her, collapsing into one of the see-through chairs. "How are you?" she asks in a tone that makes me think only politeness is preventing her from questioning: "what the hell happened to you?" I must look even worse than I feel because her smile immediately fades into an expression of concern. Glass domes cover a cake selection, and wannabe Phillippe Starck Ghost chairs crowd around metal tables. By brain realigns, and categorises my surroundings more on the level of upmarket garden centre.Ī great big chalk board points the way to the box office and I follow it around into the bar. An aesthetic that would have given me serious Italian palazzo vibes if it were not for the fact that we were in the middle of an industrial park. ![]() Inside it's bright and warm, with peach mottled walls and carved wooden doors. I hurry over and make my way through the doors. I can't think of any other reason that one of these stubby little buildings would be surrounded by cafe tables and parked cars. That's it, over on the other side of the row.Īt least, I think that's it. But I'm definitely about to be murdered.īut that's okay. Not that I think I'm about to be murdered. I really should update Allison again on my whereabouts. From an upstairs window loud music pours out into the otherwise silent air. I turn a corner and find myself on some sort of industrial estate. But enough free seats so that I don't get someone else's perfume choices clogging up my throat. Full enough that I can visibly sink low in my chair and hide myself from the cast. Then again, I also hate a packed theatre at these times.Īs I stumble through the dark streets, I try to work out what percentage of fullness suits my current grotty condition. There's no one to hide behind when the choking starts. Just as I'm putting my phone away, the screen lights up again. "I'm a few minutes late," I lie in my reply. And that's if I don't get another coughing fit stopping me in my tracks. By the looks of it, I'm a good ten minutes walk away. I clutch my jacket close about me and check my phone. ![]() I hope I'm not the only one it's hounding tonight. "Justice 4 Grenfell."Īs I walk through the streets to the Playground Theatre, I can feel it behind me. The Co-op opposite has a banner slung up one of the upper windows. A green heart spotlit against the night sky. The first thing you see when stepping onto the platform at Latimer Grove tube station is Grenfell tower. ![]()
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