Last Saturday we went to see the musical Wicked at the ASU Gammage theatre in Tempe. Not quite the West End but nonetheless a great performance and a great family trip out (which is becoming a rarity these days as the 'Tween' is reaching that age when it is soooo uncool to be seen out with your parents). The highlight for aforementioned Tween and I though was not the spectacular musical performance, but the 'pre show' happening in the seats right next to us. Allow me to explain.
We had settled in our seats some 20 minutes prior to the start of the performance, and were seated about a third of the way along a row. Mr B, who still hasn't perfected the art of keeping his mouth shut in public, immediately caught the attention of the lady seated to his right who detected the whiff of a British accent faster than you could say Harry Potter. Mistake No. 1. After a few minutes of exchanging pleasantries with said lady, much to the amusement of the Tween and I, he then went on to introduce himself. Mistake No. 2. Then, rather than politely closing off any further conversation, and feigning a sudden and intense interest in the programme (as is my usual approach), we heard him not only confirming knowledge of the place where Mrs Chatterbox lived but also advising that we had once stayed near there on holiday several years back. And that ladies and gents is where fatal Mistake No.3 was made and he was trapped until the start of the performance. We pretended not to notice the frequent 'Rescue me, now!' glances in our direction and by the time she had started sharing her phone and scrolling through the many pictures of her grandchildren, we were in fits of hysterics! Lol!
Fast forward 24 hours to Sunday, and the much awaited 'supermoon' event. Previously, whenever there had been any such events in the UK, it was either cloudy, or the middle of the night, or both. This time though we were lucky enough to be in the right time zone with the right weather conditions for a perfect view, which was expected to start around 5.30pm. Result! We decided we would get the best view from a higher vantage point and so, after the Tween declined to come with us, Mr B and I drove 5 minutes up the road to a local supermarket car park, which has a great uninterrupted view across the valley. There were already a few cars there, and a couple of pick up trucks where the occupants had set up their chairs, cool boxes and had their drinks and snacks ready. Just as we were waiting for the moon to appear, another car pulled up alongside us and two ladies, who looked like Mother and Daughter, got out.
"Are y'all waiting to see the blood moon?"
"Yes, it should be appearing any minute" Mr B replied. Uh-oh. Wait for it.
"Ohhh! Where y'all from ...?"
You can probably guess how it went from there ... An hour and a half later, after we had covered the obligatory Harry Potter and the Royal family, we had pretty much heard the life stories of Sandy and her Mother, her brothers and sisters, nephews and nieces, seen all the photos of their recent trip to Monument Valley, Tucson & some canyon (can't remember the name as think I had nodded off by then) and how her niece and boyfriend were currently in England but couldn't get work visas.
"Now what's the name of the town they are in again ...? I'll think of it in a minute ... Oh yes, Wales."
That is the second time I have heard an American describe Wales as a small town in England! ... But don't get me started on Geography and the US school curriculum!
We did actually get to see the 'supermoon' after all that, and pretty spectacular it was too. Mr B even managed to get some great photos (which of course he emailed to Sandy when we got home as promised!).
Apparently we will have to wait 18 years to see the next one ... I wonder if Mr B will have learned to keep his trap shut by then? Probably not.
TTFN and have a great week!
Bev X
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