Last week, as part of my sister’s continuing efforts to make the family more classy (?), we went to the ultimate in classiness: the ballet. Ok, so it may or may not have been at the wycombe swan, which sort of cancels out any possible classiness you might have seen. But then again, I had a blazer on, so maybe it cancels out the cancelled out. But then there was the man roaming the Eden centre wearing a shirt and trousers made out of the same plaid, so I don’t know if anything could cancel that out.
Anyway, as ballet novices we went to the most accessible of ballets. Swan Lake. With a twist! It’s the Matthew Bourne version, so the swans are all blokes. Yep. That’s the twist. Male swans, eh? There I was, thinking that swans were a one-gender species, and then Mr. Bourne comes along and says, no, that’s not true, some swans are male and I can prove it. Hats off to him, I never thought I’d pay money to see a load of shirtless men wearing hairy trousers prance around a stage, sprinkling sweat everywhere. (No seriously, I didn’t realise that was an issue with ballet. do they have to mop the stage afterwards?) Well, I technically didn’t have to pay any money at all, but it’s the spirit of the thing, you know? I mean, if you’re going to pay however much for your ticket, and then have to queue for about a year just to get into the bathroom, you want to know that there isn’t a danger of sweat-rain for the front row. Or maybe you don’t.
And then the next major disappointment of the evening – the mint-choc-chip ice-cream was basically mint ice cream with two choc-chips on the top. Seriously, I’ve never been so sad in all my life. And it’s really awkward eating ice-cream at the ballet, because the woman next to me seemed oddly interested in my eating ice-cream. She just kept staring. Although, I think that might have been during the scene with the semi-naked swans, so maybe she was just trying to shake droplets of sweat out of her eyes.
No but seriously, are they trying to say that male swans pluck themselves every time they leave the nest? Come on, Mr. Bourne, think it through! And apparently it was a troupe of angry gay swans because there were no female swans. So swans only travel in groups of the same gender…? I honestly don’t know.
In summary: maybe ballet isn’t for me.