Friday was NO. 1 son’s 12th birthday.
12 is a little bit tricky – what you want to do with your mates is probably not what your parents will let you do. Add a chronic illness to the general age trickiness, and we were a le-e-etle bit stumped.
But then genius struck. And a short phone call later we had five great tickets for We Will Rock You at the Dominion Theatre in the West End. No.1 is a HUGE rock fan, loves his electric guitar, and we were generally feeling rather smug that we had found the perfect solution.
But as the date grew closer we started to wonder if it had been the right thing to bring along the 9 and 8 yr olds too… Boy was NOT a big Queen fan. and Jolly is not known for his powers of concentration. Or even of sitting still. And, of course, We Will Rock You is not even billed as a children’s show. Would they understand and follow? Would it even be suitable?
Hey ho.
Saturday came, and we set of from the conveniently-placed Grandparents house in Essex for the trains.
We had a quick beetle around the city (seeing Leadenhall Market (better known as Diagon Alley of course) and the Bank of England (Gringotts), then found a handy restaurant for lunch.
By 2.10 we were in our seats, and excitement (them) and nervousness (us) was rising. They have visited the local theatre a couple of times, but seen nothing on this scale. Would they enjoy? The lights dimmed, the speakers crackled and with all fingers crossed I settled back to enjoy it myself…
I forgot to worry about them at all as I became engrossed in the story, the music was every bit as wonderful and engrossing as I remembered, the leads were excellent and the whole show was spectacular. As the lights came up for the interval I remembered I was in charge of small people and turned to see what the reaction was so far.
Three stunned, wide-eyed grinning faces looked back at me. I didn’t need to ask the question.
“It’s AWESOME!” breathed Jolly, the boy-who-can’t-sit-still who had just been utterly absorbed for an hour.
“The music… it’s inside me when they sing. I can feel it as well as hear it. How do they do that? It’s amazing” grinned Boy-who-doesn’t-much-like-Queen.
The newly-12yr old No.1 Son just beamed. Words actually failed him, and he was content to sit and smile and wait impatiently for the second half.
By the end of the show they were clapping in the air like Queen concert pro’s. They were emotional about the death of ‘real’ music, and overwhelmed at it’s rebirth. They were on their feet stamping and cheering. They were gleefully chanting back the call-and-response from Galileo Figaro. And they screamed themselves hoarse through a standing ovation as the final curtain came down.
I think they quite liked it.
To be fair, a stream of the humour went over the two youngest one’s heads. They didn’t know follow some of the pop culture references, nor the more adult innuendo (I hope). There was an occasional strong-ish swear. But the entire spectacle was such that none of this really mattered. They were absorbed by the monumental music, swept along in the search for an instrument, and laughing at so much of the comedy. Jolly, at 8, was probably at the lower end of the age bracket that would enjoy it, but I am so glad we took him too.
They have all absorbed the serious undercurrent the story told them, the threat of losing themselves in a computer-generated world, and it’s something that I know will live on in them for a very long time.
Queen. Ben Elton. Freddie Mercury. We thank you.
Oh, and Scaramouche? I have three boys who would all quite like to marry you when they grow up, please.
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