![]() The first thing I hear Mark say when he gets back from errands is: “ So I ended up having a chat with.” Telling me about the new people he has met, where they are from, where they are going. Capt’n Mark is especially good at this (that is why he is the designated social butterfly for our boat), having grown up in small town Alberta, he is used to “kicking the tires” with just about anybody, he’s got that knack of starting up conversation with anyone standing right beside him. ![]() So, it is not the same community as we’ve seen with full time cruisers who are are generally more neighbourly, where it is very common for people to stop by and chat as they go by in their dinghy, or on the docks. I have to say, i feel much safer when we are around people who have been doing this awhile, and we sleep better too, people who charter boats for a week are generally “here for a good time, not a long time” and so Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday night “booze-fests” with loud music are quite a common occurrence here. Every other place we have been, we are usually surrounded by seasoned sailors. There is also a rather obvious lack of knowledge about radio etiquette or how to pick up a mooring ball, but hey, we were there once too and not that long ago ! Still under these circumstances it feels very different for us. What I mean is that here in the BVIs we are surrounded by holidayers (who charter boats for a week or two) and some of these might be relatively new to sailing.This was evidenced a few times when we had to change course to get out of the way of people who clearly did not know the rules of the road/ or understand right-of-way). The show could be tighter and lighter, the music a bit more Gallic, but its unabashed bid to bring joy, promote everyday kindness and rekindle hope couldn’t be more pertinent.Īmélie is at the Criterion, London, until 25 September.Being back in the Virgin islands has been great,we feel very comfortable here, having visited twice before (in 20) we know these islands well.but it is also very different from what we have become accustomed too over the last few months. One surreal sequence finds monstrous figs terrorising a grumpy grocer. It also goes OTT, bringing on an Elton John-alike for a fantasy imagining Amélie’s funeral. Like its heroine, Michael Fentiman’s production – first seen at the Watermill in 2019 – delights in small pleasures, including a couple of cellos kissing and the lampshade transporting Amélie up into her apartment. The most rousing number, A Better Haircut, comes late and is put across with style by Kate Robson-Stuart, Flora Spencer-Longhurst and Sioned Saunders. ![]() While it is arresting to see more than a dozen musicians crowd the small stage for the folksy opening numbers, they begin to swamp this story of isolated lives with swelling, stomping songs and overly melancholic ballads. ![]() Yann Tiersen’s jaunty accordion film soundtrack matched Tautou’s headlong spirit and fragility.
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