Travel Bug Part Two: Three Pubs And A Panto

A British Christmas Pantomime is NOT what you might think and pubs are VERY BUSY during the holidays!

As we continue our time in England to ring out 2023 and ring in 2024, I gain a couple of important insights into life here.

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For the Second Day of Christmas, the kids tell us they have tickets for all 14 of us for a Pantomime that night, explaining that these performances are an English tradition and may be a bit risque.

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Sounds fine to us. “hmmmm . . . silent perfomance, haven’t seen one in years, should be fun.”

We pile into enough cars to get us all there and head to the Epsom Playhouse, a short drive away. I see the stage with the Wizard of Oz display, and start thinking, “OK, this could be intriguing to see this story in pantomime.”

Then, when Dorothy comes out and immediately begins singing, I think, “Well, I didn’t know singing was part of a pantomime performance.” And that is when my husband looks it up. Here’s what he finds about post-Christmas Pantomimes in England:

Pantomime is anything but a “mime” as the name may suggest. Instead, it’s a loud, fun, enjoyable musical comedy theatre production. It takes well-loved children’s classic tales like Cinderella, Snow White, Dick Whittington and Aladdin and turns them into a show full of giggles for kids and plenty of laughs for adults too with those subtle adult-minded jokes. Audience participation is greatly encouraged.

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And participate we do!! We love it; we enthusiastically boo the Wicked Witch of the West; we warn Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Lion about the monkeys behind them getting ready to whisk them away; we loudly applaud the dog playing Toto; we laugh at the revelation of the powerless Wizard. We get sprayed with water by powerful waterguns and have a blast all the way through.

If I could, I would happily attend one of these every year for the rest of my life. A simply wonderful family night, full of joy and delight.

On the Fourth Day of Christmas, a gray, damp one with gale-force winds, we awake to the dawn light, such as it is, at about 8:30 am. We have been treated daily to fabulous homecooked meals for all, so after breakfast, my husband and I offer to take the entire crew to the local pub for lunch to give the hardworking cooks and clean-up crew a break.

Note: because I am the Granny, and thus the honored guest, no one will yet let me do ANYTHING in the kitchen. Works for me.

Anyway, with general agreement to the plan, we load up the cars around 1:30 pm and head out. The preferred pub is an easy walk from here, but I’ve hurt my knee and, sadly, even an easy walk is still impossible for me, so drive we must.

A good thing, as it turns out.

We turn into the car park [see how good I am getting at using British terms?], noting that it was not full, so walk in full of anticipation. The pub, with open fires and a generous bar, is warm, gently buzzing with content people. And none of those content people were going anywhere anytime soon on this yucky afternoon.

An inquiry to the host: “Nope, can’t seat all of you even at separate tables.”

Plan B in operation.

My son and his wife, after a quick strategy session over the phone, agree to send in to the next pub the cousin with the absolutely positively best British accent of the bunch.

We wait hopefully . . . a few minutes later, she emerges with the “thumbs down” sign.

Off to the third and final option: plenty of parking, hopes are high, we hold our breath . . . and the final “thumbs down.”

OK, we’ll get pizzas and take them home. My son knows the owner/operator of the one pizza parlor in this area, which is a darned good thing as it has shut down after the lunch orders and will not reopen for over an hour.

Nevertheless, we walk through the unlocked door into the darkened shop. The giant pizza oven, just behind the counter, takes up most of the small space available—no seating here at all.

Fortunately, the owner emerges. He will not fix the pizzas at that time but agrees to take the order and have them ready in an hour and a half. We name our preferences and head back to the house to pull out some snacks to tide us over.

And thus my lessons from the last couple of days: British Pantomimes are a LOT of fun and British people do enjoy their pubs, especially on a cold rainy day when many are off work, and restaurants take an afternoon break.

The day winds down as we say goodbyes, with multiple hugs and some tears, to the four who have an overnight flight to Colombia. Despite adequate packing time, we witness several last minute dashes back inside to retrieve forgotten items. A pair of reading glasses never did make it.

Their departure cuts the house population significantly. The older women head to the kitchen for relaxing conversation, the rest to the game room for their preferred activities. Before bedtime, three more leave to drive to their nearby home, but we expect to see much of them the next several days.

So today, the Fifth Day of Christmas, from 14 people here, we are down to six. However, with expectations for a full house on the annual New Year’s Eve party given here, three have now gone shopping—and yes, there is a Costco about an hour from here.

I listen to a jazz piano concert as my older grandson practices for his volunteer hours at a nearby care home: he plays there for the residents once a week. My younger grandson, after a great conversation about the power of cults and authoritarian leaders, resumes his study for exams next week.

Sweet moments here.

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