AN ecstatic ‘brilliant’ and leaps of excitement improbably executed from the depths of a seat proved beyond doubt that Peter Pan had been a success. Indeed, we all loved it. The National Theatre production injected a completely unexpected poignancy into Capt Hook’s dramatic demise in the jaws of the crocodile as well as the final scene of the play.
As we left the theatre in high spirits, I suggested a late-night walk to see the Christmas lights. No one else seemed very keen, but the promise of a taxi home persuaded the children into compliance. We set off over Hungerford Bridge and first enjoyed the spectacle of the Thames. Then, we pressed on to see the Christmas tree and crib on Trafalgar Square. A favourite ice-cream parlour in Soho—miraculously open despite the late hour and the bitter cold—carried us on to Regent Street. There, however, enthusiasm died.
I think the angels that float above the street this year are rather magnificent. The children agreed, but, as they explained with disarming articulacy, once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. In the taxi home, I was assured that the trip had been fun, but I strongly suspect it was for the ice cream and not the lights. JG