Memory lane

Yesterday, I visited the place where I lived for the first six years of my life. With a sudden burst of decisive action, my lady and I made up our minds to see the first performance of I am Montana, at the Arcola theatre, Hackney. An easy trip. Peterborough to Huntingdon, Huntingdon to Royston then straight through on the A10 into London and the theatre. At the end of the straight run on the A10, the road turns left and curves around to join Lordship Lane, before continuing on to Bruce Grove and then on into London via Stamford Hill and Hackney. I turned right. It should have been easy. the road curves round and joins Lordship Lane a little closer to Wood Green, and by turning left, we should have been able to drive passed the house where my Gran lived with her sons and daughters. We got lost. Nothing looked the same. Road signs had changed; there were one way streets; and loads and loads of traffic. A little drive around some of the back streets found us back to where we started, and this time managed to find the right road. It only goes to show that you should never go back. From what I remember of Grans house, which was in fact a three bed roomed flat over a post office, it had always been clean and vibrant. Yesterday, it looked old and tired. I doubt whether I shall ever go back there again. For the house, the past was dead. It had its own memories; of a large family, when if you looked out of the front window you could see fields; of the war, and unexploded fire bombs coming through the roof and the visits of girl friends of the sons of the family; of Christmas diners, sitting around a large dining table and eating until I was sick; of seeing my first dead body when my Gran died. These of course are my memories, of my own experiences and stories that I was told. Now they are only held in my mind and perhaps my sisters an cousins, so they will endure a little longer, but the house will forget. Anyway after the slight disappointment of seeing part of my past falling into disrepair we continued on to the Arcola theatre. I didn't have the nerve to go and see the flat that I spent my first six years in. We found the theatre, and after some indecision about where we could park; it is always hard to know in a strange place weather you are going to find your car towed away or locked in a multi story car park for the night, as has happened to someone very close to me. I am Montana is a road story of discovery, guilt, and love, performed by four actors who were uniformly excellent. all of them have reached this state by hard work and avoiding the get famous quick rout that so many try on television. It is a play of words, where the simple set does not interfere with the action, but is actually part of the action. It was moving, funny, scary and thought provoking, very often, all at the same time. That we surprised Mark was a bonus. That we enjoyed the play, despite it story, which was very dark, just made the journey worth while. If that was the first night, I can't wait to see how much they can improve it by the last night. O yes! Going home was a lot easier than the journey down. Less traffic, and better signs.