Having visited the parents a couple of weeks ago and harvested their bumper crop of apples, I have arguably become apple-tastic. I stewed some with the skin, sugar and lemon juice to liquidise into apple sauce. I made others into Tarte Tatin, which tasted better than it looked. I cooked more, so that I sieved them through a muslin cloth, added gelatine and created a jelly to enjoy with French cheeses, and finally, I made an apple crumble this weekend at my brother’s vineyard to enjoy after my version of Coq-au-Vin. I have become slightly obsessed with the idea that if it is harvested now from our own earth, that there must be minerals and vitamins from within that we need. As if I were correct on this point, my skin has followed suit, and seems to be glowing from the apple mania. Perhaps I should try and make face packs from them? Who knows, the pectin in the skin might have the same effect as alpha hydroxy acid which is all the rage in skin care nowadays. Caudalie, the French brand, does it with grapes. I might not be as crazy as I sound. However there is not time. There is only so much appling one can do in one month.
As promised, I saw Woody Allen’s Blue Jasmine, and thought that as it was such a direct a lift from Tennessee Williams’ Streetcar Named Desire, it did not have the usual impact that a new Woody Allen script has. After all, I wanted to see Allen’s annual take on life, but got Tennessee’s instead. Kate Blanchett is always good, but crying and having too much mascara running everywhere does not automatically a tragic character make. Sally Hawkins self-studied to such an extent that I almost felt like commenting on her own acting on her behalf. Andrew Dice Clay was superb however, and I would like to see more of him.
The Captain and I will be joining a party of mates to see a mutual old pal in Raving by Simon Paisley Day at Hampstead Theatre next Saturday. Funnily enough, I saw the original reading of it a few years ago at the Young Vic when Mr Paisley Day was trying to glean it some attention. I will look forward to seeing the final product, as it has a rather exciting cast, and I found it very funny the last time. Among the same bunch, we will also be attending a Halloween Party at Soho House by the same dotty hosts from the Seventies party which I covered in the spring. I have purchased my expensive wig, and that is about all I will say about it. I wonder if there are any prizes for the best male and best female outfit. Not that I am competitive or anything like that.(!) There is also a joint 40th and wedding anniversary party that we are attending, but there will only be normal dressing up for that, so I shall be wearing a black satin cocktail frock bought five years ago with birthday money.
A long while back I was part of a BBC Radio 4 series called Single Files written by Mark Trotman and Chris Tisdall. Among our little company, my colleague was a marvellous actress called Emma Swinn. Together we enjoyed all the female characters. The only hardship was trying not to laugh. Among her many talents, Emma runs the Philosophy Foundation, and is doing a reading of a play by Andrew Day called The Sister. It is a fascinating, funny and disturbing piece about Nietzsche and those who surrounded him, including his sister, Elisabeth. Emma has asked me to play Elisabeth, which I am delighted to be doing for World Philosophy Day at the Conway Hall at the 21st November 2013.
Lastly, I went to the Saatchi Gallery the other evening with another good mate to see an exhibition which included paintings by his friend’s father, John Alvaro Caldas. The gallery who were showing his paintings is the Philips Art Gallery run by a lovely man called David Powell. www.philipsartgallery.co.uk is worth a good look, as he has an excellent eye. He mentioned why he loved John Alvaro Caldas, which hooked me somewhat. He said it was because John was entirely self taught. At this point, I stopped being a normal person and turned into my friend’s agent, who is an entirely self taught artist, and has been painting around the same time that he could write. As a result he has a collection of haunting and brilliant work which he permanently undersells because he doesn’t believe they are as good as I do. As a result David Powell gave my friend his card on the request to see his stuff. That old mate of mine better send it or there will be trouble.
As a post script there was one other artist who took my attention, called Janet Shrimpton who Carina Haslam Art was representing that evening. She has created these floral, Midsummer Night’s Dream type of scenery. The result is that if you end up in front of one of her paintings, it is hard to pull yourself away, so mesmerising is the effect. Probably as mesmerising as I wish my blog to be, which is why I shall have to say, Time, Ladies and Gentlemen, please. This month’s blog is over.
Kate Terence's Letters from London 