Hastings Battleaxe takes in some local culture

Thank goodness, the tiredness has gone and am back to normal – see the last post – the rude poem about Nadine Dorries proved to be quite popular.  Was beginning to get slightly worried that I’d developed Long Covid or whatever. But clearly not, thank goodness. So, have been out and about – films at the Kino in Rye, supper with friends, a visit to the Rocky Horror Show at the White Rock Theatre with WI chums, and even a trip up to London. Here’s a pic from Rocky Horror to start us off.

We’ve joined the Kino in Rye as members – it is worth it, you get five free tickets plus discount on other bookings. It is very comfortable, shows new-release films, and has a good cafe-bar. So, we’ve been twice. First, we saw ‘Mrs Harris goes to Paris’. It was the ultimate feel-good movie for what was a hideously wet afternoon, and is totally essential viewing for anyone who likes clothes, in particular vintage Dior.  Although Lesley Manville was good, Batttleaxe could have done with less cheekie chappie Cockney charlady and more beautiful young women with 20″ waists wafting about in wonderful outfits.  Here is an article from the New York Post explaining that the dresses were authentic recreations of Dior dresses from the period. If you like that sort of thing, Battleaxe would recommend the film.

Next, something totally different – ‘The Banshees of Inisherin’. Now, that is one very weird film. Very compelling but dark – and strange. It says things about friendship and ending friendships… and the impossible challenge of ending a friendship on a small island off the coast of Ireland. Some list the film as comedy – didn’t strike me as that at all – more like slightly surreal tragedy.  The performances from all the main characters were absolutely excellent, although all were upstaged by a miniature donkey.  Irish scenery amazing. Battleaxe emerged from the cinema speechless… rare indeed for her – and would also recommend.

So, on to the Rocky Horror Show. Philosopher and I saw it years and years ago in London, must have been around 1990. We didn’t really know what it was about and were amazed to see the audience all dressed up and singing along. I guess the show must have seemed pretty darn racey and transgressive back in the 70s and 80s, and it probably did much to progress what we’d now regard as almost cultural norms in regard to sexual identity, fluidity etc.  However, here and now in 2022 it all seemed very innocent. The current touring production  is loud, upbeat and lively, and it was good to see the White Rock Theatre packed with enthusiastic fans, mostly dressed up. There was indeed much singing along and calling back. I do think, however, that the audience was dominated by sparky ladies of a certain age who had unearthed their fishnets and corsets from the back of their wardrobes… But what am I saying? This is Hastings, where corsets are standard Old Town weekend wear. Anyway, given the above, it was obviously totally the  right thing for a WI outing, with a meal at the White Rock Hotel first. Battleaxe indeed did dig out her fishnets and corsets, along with the mandatory black net tutu petticoat, but the fishnets had perished into holes and the corset was…eer… too small. However, the petticoat was fine, and I found enough suitable compromises for the rest to keep the Battleaxe show on the road.

London? Brave, given the current dodgy state of the railways. Either the trains are broken down, the signals are bust, the lines have collapsed, there are too few staff, or they are on strike.  But this time all worked perfectly. We met our old friend Shaun in a place called The Green Room, near the South Bank theatres, for lunch. It was lovely to see Shaun and the place was OK except for very erratic service.

You’ll notice I’ve kept off political horrors this week. In the end, even Battleaxe loses heart. Cartoon villain Gavin Williamson exits stage left in a clap of thunder, embarrassing creep Matt Hancock begs for forgiveness while eating camel dick in the jungle – oh purleeze spare us, this stuff can’t be real.