Another miserable morning, drizzling again, but still I venture out on the bike. Things are better by the time I head home, which is a good job as I need to get a shift on as we’re at the theatre tonight.
L and I go see ‘Run For Your Wife’, which is play by Ray Cooney written back in 1983. It’s being performed at the rather quaint Nottingham Arts Theatre. We nip in the small adhoc bar they have there and take a drink in with us.
‘Run For Your Wife’ is a comedy farce with quite ‘adult’ undertones. It is the story of a taxi driver called John Smith, who greedily has two wives, each unknown to the other, and consequently has two houses in different parts of London. This means he leads an interesting double life juggling the two of them. To do this he keeps a detailed schedule in his diary, making sure he arranges his days and nights to spend equal time with them both, whilst not arousing the suspicions of either. It is all performed on a clever set which represents both of the houses, the one in Wimbledon and the other in Streatham, at the same time.
At first I feel a bit frustrated as we don’t see any of the initial wife juggling, so you don’t get a feel for how impressive it must have been. Plus I might have been able to pick up a few tips for future reference... I sense that L already reckons it's all based on me, as she assumes my dogging activities (as in dog shows and training) are a front for something else, perhaps dogging of a different order... ahhh, if only I had time... of course, I wouldn't be interested anyway.
Instead the play starts with John being late for both of his women due to a stay in casualty after a blow to the head. This is when it all starts to unravel for him. Whilst in hospital, he gives one address to the police whilst the other appears on hospital records. This discrepancy causes both the police forces of Streatham and Wimbledon to investigate. Then when a press reporter turns up to photograph him and splashes it across the front page of the local paper his cover(s) is effectively blown. Although resolution is not as simple as that, this is a farce remember.
Smith becomes utterly entangled in his attempts to explain himself to his wives and the police officers. Meanwhile the assistance given by his upstairs neighbour, Stanley, is far from helpful.
I don’t know about the lead character having a schedule but the cast must be applauded for keeping to theirs and keeping track of all the confusions they had to confuse us with, without confusing themselves. If you see what I mean. That was impressive. The acting wasn’t bad either. As ever with amateur productions, you get at least one actor who's a bit wooden, one's who's over acting and a few who are quite good, ones who could go on to better things.
So a good night really. Now to take L to the pub and convince her it's not about me.