My turn on the Queen's Throne

Despite Heathrow's 3 inch snow"storm" that delayed/cancelled/diverted hundreds of flights, all the London students made it! One (Amy Buffomonte) followed suggestions to pack light to such perfection that she arrived for the semester with a single carry-on bag. Others...not so much. Right now students are on their panoramic tour of London; after several days settling into flats (really good housing), orientations, and a cream tea reception at the Regency Hotel, students will finally get a day off tomorrow. Me, I'm chomping at the bit to get into the Camden house maybe Sunday, maybe Monday) and start classes. It isn't lack of work or interesting things to do in the meantime, but (as much as I like novelty) I like the routine classes impose.

After internship orientation on Friday I did a once-in-a-decade or so(or first this century) tour for individuals at the lavish London Palladium (famous for its variety shows in the 20th century, anyone who was anyone performed there)...I got the 12:05 timeslot I applied for last October. The tour was limited to 20 people, going in one or two at a time. Guides took me on stage, into the balconies, through the Andrew Lloyd Webber VIP room and hidden spots in the the maze of hallways behind the scenes, quite a cool tour in a working theatre (the musical Sister Act plays there now). Most interesting was the history of black performers presented in playbills, programs, videos, and the awesome opportunity to see the filmed 1948 Palladium tap dance performance by the Clarke Brothers [from Philadelphia), and to meet one of the Mr. Clarkes in person. He was delightful and still had some pretty good moves! But the tour highlight (according to my guide) was the even rarer opportunity to enter the Royal Box, a place she'd never seen inside for the six years she worked at the Palladium, not until the very morning of the tour. Apparently the Palladium takes the "royal" criterion for entry into the box seriously...most of the time.

Aside from the bad view of the stage (but the great view the audience would have of the Queen) the decor of the Royal Box was pretty unremarkable. [Aside: Lynne and I sat in boxes to see Oliver! last spring. Despite the stage being close enough to count the pores on Rowan Atkinson's [Mr. Bean] nose, we paid top price for sore necks from craning to see the blocked half of the stage.] Sure, the Palladium Royal Box had its own little private anteroom where refreshments could be served before pre-show and at intervals. Nonetheless, I (and all theatregoers) have a very festive public anteroom (commonly known as the bar) which accomplishes the same purpose but with considerably more shiny stuff (maybe royal tastes run to shabby chic and the shiny is for the unwashed masses). The Royal Box itself was festooned with maroon drapery and tassles, with comfie velvet armchairs--but then, all Palladium seats are velvet with arms. As for differences, true that commoners' seats are bolted to the floor while the Queen put her chair wherever she pleases, so I suppose that's "advantage, Queen". Several guides seemed inordinately proud that the handful of lucky people on the Palladium tour could have a rare glimpse of the Queen's toilet, something even employees had never seen before tour day. Does it have a velvet upholstered seat and gold fittings, or maybe gold tassles to flush I wonder?

Hmmph. The 1950s bathrooms at home hold their own in head to head competition (I'm trying to be punny) with the Queen's Toilet at the London Palladium. Plain white walls, plain white fixtures, a door separated the loo from the washing up area, but even there it was just a pedestrian pedestal sink. No gold fittings, nothing special, not even luxury toilet tissue! Ahead of the guide, I stood gazing for a moment, wondering, why the hell would anyone care where the Queen peed (if she had to) at the London Palladium, and why as I wasting time in London looking at a tired old bathroom?

Then it came to me, the only way to redeem prurient interest in the Queen's plumbing was to try it out. The guide was pretty sure that was not allowed. However, like the stray finger that illicitly touched the Rosetta Stone many years ago, and took a prohibited photo at the Singapore Serangoon MRT station or crashed a funeral more recently, there's no way to undo what's done, appropriate or not. I sat down, much to the dismay of my guide. I don't feel transformed in any regal way or special for having done it, but it is one more experience I can add to the list of things I didn't even know I wanted to do.
My turn on the Queen's Thone.