Yesterday I went to the theatre, and therefore saw something truly amazing.
I went to see The Importance of Being Ernest, and therefore saw Stockard Channing playing Lady Bracknell. Impressive, and very enjoyable, but that wasn’t it.
I saw the price on the tickets, which was €42.75 each (our company paid half – they do this if someone comes up with an idea for a social event). This price, which presumably is related to the fact that a girl from the West Wing has decided to act in our humble city, is fairly startling (I could have gone to Sex and the City five times for the same price – I can’t think of any reason why I would, I’m just saying I could). But that wasn’t it.
I saw this lovely scene in St Stephen’s Green on the way to the theatre:
This is quite surprising in that it shows that we do sometimes have lovely summer evenings and also that Tinman has a soft side, but again that’s not it.
I saw the man with the biggest head in the world. Now that’s it.
Not only did I see him, I was lucky enough to see him from right up close. I was right behind him in the theatre, in fact. I couldn’t have had a better view, as long as his head was what I wanted a view of. Had I preferred a view of, say, the stage, well then I wouldn’t have been as lucky.
Now I am of a size where I am well used to having bigger people blocking my view, and I have learned to accept it. What was amazing about this guy was that he was no taller than me – if I sat upright I could see comfortablyover the top of his head. But if I relaxed at all down in my chair the left side of the stage vanished completely.
Well, show us, I hear you say. Don’t bother posting pictures of baby swans, show us the guy with the giant head.
And of course I can’t, since this would have involved taking my mobile phone out in the theatre. And in any case a picture of his head would be worthless if I couldn’t hold something up beside it to lend perspective – a pineapple, perhaps, or a hot-air balloon. And the chances are he’d have noticed something like that and would instantly know what I was up to (he must surely know he has a giant head, if only because he has to put his jumpers on via his feet). And he might not have taken it well.
And that wouldn’t have been good. Being head-butted by this guy would have been like running full-belt into a swinging wrecking-ball.