Strange night animals

I had the opportunity to go to the theatre this weekend to see Cats. I hadn’t thought much beyond the fact that we were getting out of the house for a night with friends; only a vague awareness buzzing in the background that I hate musicals. Pressed to consider it, I would have conceded that having my legs waxed is more appealing than sitting for two and a half hours in darkened silence while actors sing and dance me a tale.

What was I thinking?

We frocked up, were picked up, and then got held up– arriving eventually in our seats minutes before the felines arrived in all their lycra-clad glory. After a brief, animated discussion amongst us about what we knew of the storyline, we decided that we knew....well...pretty much nothing and we would just have to pick it up as we went along.

Let me just say right now that the best part of Act One was when I started sneezing and made a muttered comment about being allergic to cats. I got the giggles, the kind that are born of tiredness and a lack of oxygen to the brain...and then socially limped my way through to the interval with stifled mirth (bored children always manage to find something to entertain themselves).

The lights rose and no-one in our party had the foggiest idea what was going on, and what the heck was a Jellicle cat? This caused more contraband laughter amongst us anti-theatre heathens. My husband’s epiphany involved the realisation that it was actually about cats (I was a few steps ahead of him, there) and we eventually agreed that there was no detailed story, but it was, rather, an abstract study in behaviour.

Phew, that was a relief. I could relax in the second half of the match (...if only it was football...) I spent much of the interval standing in the 10 minute bathroom cue chatting to a woman about how we were enjoying the performance (lying...) and how fantastic the costuming was (scrambling...), when she leant in and asked me “Do you know what it’s about?”

Crisis point.

Here I am, an English teacher with two Arts degrees (hold the toilet paper jokes please, we are discussing high-brow culture...) who was confused about one of the most famous shows ever. Damn, I wish I had’ve googled the blighter before I left home.

I was disappointed with myself. Not because of my ignorance, but because I was embarrassed to admit it. I was concerned about appearing un-savvy in a ‘cultured’ setting and had forgotten that my opinion is valid. Why was I determining my worth based on what the toilet line thought? I know better.

Our friend phoned the next morning to tell us about a new show that was coming to town...Dogs...and would we like to go see it with them. Funny man....click.