MOUSETRAP

Saturday was our designated “Mousetrap” day, although, rather bizarrely, throughout the week we kept on forgetting that it was, and every time one or the other of us mentioned it, the other one of us seemed to be surprised by the fact.

Sometimes it really is like living in a goldfish bowl, and turning out to be one of the goldfish (or at least to have inherited its memory), only without the house being full up to the brim with water of course, although the weather seems to be trying to do its level best to rectify even that tiny omission…

The tickets had been booked a very long time ago, you see, as a “Mother’s Day” present for the beloved’s mother and, before you ask, no we didn’t buy any for my mother for various reasons far too complicated to go into here.

Anyway, the date was set, the gift was given, and the tickets placed in the one spot in the house where we knew for absolute certain that we’d be able to find them half a year later no matter what other chaos may ensue around it, which was lucky because, when we got ourselves organized enough to brave the sudden cold snap and venture out to catch the train into the big scary city (I know!!! Twice in one week! – Almost unheard of these days…), they were for once exactly where they were supposed to be.

And so were were able to find a parking space, and the train was more-or-less on time, and, if not exactly full to the brim with footballing fans on their way to watch that Saturday’s kickabouts, certainly pretty close to it, and we chugged along into the city whilst nobody tried to sell us any rail tickets, or even gave us the slightest opportunity to buy any which led to the usual slight angsty feeling in this litigious age.

Instead we arrived at Piccadilly and had to join a massive queue at a hastily unfolded temporary table and pay for them there before joining the hustle and bustle of a mainline station which seems to think that it’s really a shopping mall on a busy Saturday afternoon and wait for the beloved’s mother to appear courtesy of her own railway journey.

After we met up it was time to grab the free shuttle bus to make our way to an excellent (but very busy) Patisserie for coffee and cake before strolling around the corner to the “Opera House” for the matinee performance of the Diamond Anniversary Tour of Agatha Christie’s “The Mousetrap” which is travelling around the provinces of the UK for the first time ever whilst simultaneously extending its 60-year run in the West End of London.

Well, both the beloved and her mother are great Christie fans, and it really was too fine an opportunity to be missed, seeing as we are unlikely to ever be in London long enough or at the same time in order to see the original version.

I bought the programmes and we made our way through the crowds (because, even if it wasn’t the “hottest ticket in town” it was packed) to our seats in an auditorium that seemed very familiar to me, although I don’t know quite why, and settled ourselves in and had a bit of a read. Amongst all of the other tidbits of information, I was delighted to see that an old favourite, the late Nick Courtney, was name-checked in the text telling us all about the history of the production, and was very happy to see the name of Peter Vaughan Clarke being credited as Lighting Designer as I remembered his (perhaps not exactly household) name from watching “The Tomorrow People” when I was a youngster.

What delighted me most of all was spotting that Graham Seed was amongst the listed cast. I’m so pleased that he is finding good and regular work after those sinister decisions taken in dark rooms caused his much loved character of Nigel Pargetter to plummet from the roof of his stately home in “The Archers” and, simultaneously, end my two-decade long relationship with that particular radio programme.

And as to the play itself, well, that would be telling and, to be honest, even though I had an inkling that I’d read or heard something, somewhere about something, it’s far better seeing the play without any foreknowledge of the outcome because…

Well, you know… “Spoilers…!” (and we were sworn to secrecy, after all…)

What I will tell you is that it remains a fine and entertaining couple of hours in the theatre and is excellently staged and, like the very best of Agatha Christie’ stories, all of the pieces click into place like a steel, er, trap…

Christie’s work still manages to seem very “modern” and forward-thinking somehow, and, despite occasional mutterings that it’s a bit of a hoary old chestnut, the jokes still work very well for today’s audiences, and we left the theatre feeling most satisfied by our experience, and, judging by the buckets of change that were being collected for the Actor’s Support Fund (or whatever it was they called it) it looks as if a lot of other people in that audience did too.

They’ll already be setting up in Edinburgh by now after Saturday night’s final performance in Manchester, and whizzing around the length and breadth of the UK for week-long stints all over the place until the end of next June, so you might get a chance to see the tour if you really want to.

After all “It’s a trap!” but it’s a very fine one…