Let's do it . . .

Last night Gay and I went with her sister Wendi and Judith Clute to see the new rendition of the musical High Society at the Old Vic, a stirring recreation – resembling the 1956 movie more than the 1939 stage play (The Philadelphia Story), experts say.  Good enough; that was a great movie.

A note to myself – when I get back to the states  want to rent or buy the 1956 movie, which has Louis Armstrong as the musician character.  He was played by jazz pianist Joe Stilgoe in the play last night, absolutely smooth and jazzy.  There was an eye-popping four-handed windmilling performance with Stilgoe twining arms impossibly with the Musical Director Theo Jamieson, standing behind him – that tour de force was worth the price of admission alone.

We had a sturdy pub lunch beforehand with cocktails in the interval, but were too tired to make a whole evening of it.  Age and travel fatigue – Cole Porter would have just popped another bottle of champagne, I'm sure, and partied into the night.  But they were built of sterner stuff back then.

He chain-smoked nonfilter Camel cigarettes and boozed constantly and lived to be 73.  Just think of how long he might've lived if he'd entered a monastery instead.  His music might have been less interesting.

Joe