Sweet Bird of Youth

Another year has flown by.  It was Mum's birthday this week.  Birthdays are important - to me, at least.  We have begun to take them quite seriously.  Her consultants don't have much confidence she'll have many more.  Old age, sickness and death - the three certainties, according to he who has become known as the Buddha.  The thing about chronic illnesses such as COPD and Emphysema is that they may rule out the first option.  She has yet to turn 70, but has the lifestyle of someone who's enjoyed great many more years.  

The illness sits between my mother and I. Every contact is contaminated with reminders of its ever increasing presence as it plunges its claws ever deeper.  It has sapped so much life out of her, which I hate to acknowledge but can no longer ignore.  Our theatre trip together this weekend was a something of a joyous reprieve - we all enjoyed the change of scenery and the production was, we all agreed (in contrast to some of the distinctly unappreciative reviews received), utterly brilliant.     

Sweet Bird of Youth has something of an unlikely plot.  The chances of Alexandra Del Lago and Chance Wayne striking up the companionship around which the play takes shape is spurious at best, but believability aside, the play was a lot of fun.  I simply adored the touching portrayal of the neurotic Del Lago, who is convinced her career has come to an abrupt end with something of a drab finale, her disappointment about which has doomed her into an alcohol fuelled oblivion.     

Much of the play didn't quite add up, and yet little of that seemed to detract from the performances, which I considered first-rate.  Another successful Spacey staging at the fabulous Old Vic, where we were looked after exceedingly well, wheelchair and all.  It made for a fitting space in which to embrace the agonising topic of ageing which I feel is glaring me head-on just now.  

Chance:  Well, some more oxygen?

Del Lago:  No.  No.  I must look hideous in it.

Chance:  Oh, no, honey.  You just look exotic.  Yeah.  Like a princess from Mars or a... big, magnified insect.