Monsieur de Sainte Colombe/Augustine of Autrecourt is my new hero. I am besotted with the sound of the viola da gamba.
Thank you @HumansOfLate for the image of the festive period.
LOOK AT THIS LINK FIRST. THEN THE OTHER LINKS.
THEN THE DELIGHTFUL PORTRAIT.
THANK YOU. OF COURSE THEY WON’T WIN. CHARLOTTE PRODGER WILL WIN.
The last night of Patrick Marber’s production of Exit the King was mostly good, if bad panto at times. London Theatreland needs more Ionesco and less smug Stoppard plays. Rhys Ifans was certainly much, much more than “Iggy Pop in pajamas” but the 3 star reviews in the British press speak more of islander conservatism than anything else. Anthony Ward’s set was, and I don’t use this word casually…awesome. I feel lucky to have witnessed the amazing coup de theatre at the end. Here’s David Lister’s review…
I was lucky enough to see Beattie play many times at Portman Road, as well as in the FA Cup Final of 1978. It was an evening match in autumn/ winter 1974 that I saw him first. He came up for a corner (at the old Churchmans end), did his trademark giant spring up in the air, towering above every defender and headed the ball like a machine into the back of the net. And I remember the chants of “Beattie is Back” when he returned from one of his many injuries. A chant that takes me right back to the smell of cigarettes and beer on the terraces, and stamping feet to keep warm on cold nights watching Town.
He was a gifted force of nature footballer, the greatest at heading the ball ever, as well as a reckless, carefree man who loved football and socialising, not money.
Kevin Beattie (1953 – 2018) RIP.
Who wants a flat white anymore when you can have a Beetroot Latte? Another giant cafe in Manchester’s Northern Quarter. Recommended.