Category: Mary Woodward Review

***** (5 stars)

“What a stunner!” 

Having been gripped by the Fringe Show Athens of the North, written and performed by Mark Hannah and directed by Fraser Scott, it was no surprise that Common Tongue, written and directed by Fraser, was equally mesmerising.  Written fur fowk who huv been telt tae speak ‘proper’ their hale life, this show is full of ideas about language, identity, culture and, possibly most important of all, the Scottish Cringe.

Olivia Caw’s Bonnie McKay looked slightly awkward as she came on to the subtly tartan-bedecked stage, but as soon as the house lights came up enough for us to be seen, she was away… Within seconds she had us laughing, and the laughs continued throughout the show as we were drawn into her world and her story.

Bonnie grew up speaking Scots, raised by her paw, laughing at his poems, relishing the richness of the language [so many different descriptors for the weather!] and a sure refuge in times of stress and distress.  The Scots language, along with Gaelic, was given official status by the parliament at Holyrood in July 2025: but for centuries before this had been suppressed, discouraged, banned… 

“Scots is not the language of educated people” – Bonnie struggles with the challenge of encountering her boyfriend’s parents for the first time.  She’s already discovered at primary school that words she finds rich and satisfying are seen by many as dirty, ‘not said in this house’; that her and her best friend’s houses illustrate totally different priorities.  Painfully aware of arriving late and sweaty, she’s trying not to make any mess in a pristine house like a show catalogue.  His parents’ language is nothing like her own.  As she’s grilled about her education and her hopes for the future she knows they’re making the standard assumptions about her intelligence and class.  Trying so hard to be friendly, with so little encouragement, her habit of opening her mouth and talking without hinking covers her with embarrassment and she rushes out of the house completely forgetting to collect the shoes she was asked to remove on arrival.

Bonnie realises that she is fascinated by language itself, and goes to uni to study English.  There’s a wonderful poetry session where the always-right Christopher is invited to read Burns’ To a mouse.  Bonnie can’t bear it – she bursts out of her habitual shell and declaims the poem as it should be said, and we all rejoice at her vision of Rabbie cheering her on.  How can the others in the class understand the poem – none of youse don’t speak these words – it’s not their native tongue.

The opportunity to do a year in America gives Bonnie further food for thought [though the country is in some way familiar to her from telly and the fillums].  So many Americans claim some Scottish ancestry, know so little about the country and its people, and struggle to understand her language.  A Hogmanay party at times feels like Glasgow [though without Jackie Bird] but she is thrown completely off balance when asked to explain auld lang syne and realises she dinnae ken whit it means.  A phone call to her pa helps her get herself back together: she goes back into the party, explains the words, and gets everyone there [and us!]not only to sing again but get the arms right and at the right time too.

Back home after graduation, Bonnie is horrified to discover how small she finds her home surroundings now her horizons have expanded.  A theatre trip with her pa leads to a total cringe moment, but a visit to the local to hear ‘a band’ has a profound effect.  Words carry our history, and though it’s exhausting continually to engage in the mental gymnastics of tweaking how you speak, it’s important to keep hold of those words and the identity they give you.

The richly descriptive language, Bonnie’s wry asides and epithets, and her full-on engaging personality bring her story painfully to life yet have us howling with laughter at the same time.  There’s much to muse on – how can a word make fowk so uncomfortable regardless of content or context?  Why am I seen as stupid or ignorant for speaking in my mother tongue?  Why do I always assume that it’s me who’s wrang?  And yet – I make similar assumptions about people who ‘speak posh’, or who make uninformed comments about my native land…  

Language is part of our identity.  We may share a common tongue but… Uniformity is death. Diversity and difference are salt, light and life.  Vive la difference!

Common Tongue, Festival Theatre Studio, Edinburgh, RUN ENDED but Scottish Tour continues until Saturday 18^th of October for more information go to: https://www.creativescotland.com/news-stories/latest-news/archive/2025/09/common-tongue-returns-to-scottish-stages-with-autumn-tour

***** (5 stars)

“A marvel of such miracles”

What better way to start a railway adventure than by eating steak and kidney pudding in the Old Parcels Office at Keighley Station and then riding in a carriage pulled by a heavily chuffing steam locomotive up the short but at times pretty steep incline and past the iconic Oakworth station to Oxenhope station (660 feet above sea level, it says) where the performance takes place in the engine shed?

Before the performance begins, there’s plenty of time to investigate the delights available in the area surrounding the station courtyard: a mouth-watering choice of hot pies, snacks, sweets and other treats, Railway Children souvenirs, and drinks of all kinds: I succumbed to the lure of Thunder and Lightning ice cream, and was not disappointed…

And then it was time to enter the Engine Shed – which I last visited towards the end of last year to see the KWVR’s incredible production of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol which began and ended in this shed, but moved to a [moving] steam-hauled train for the intervening scenes.  At that time we were surrounded by locomotives: now we entered a blacks-hung area in which tiers of seating faced each other across a section of railway track.  At one end there was a typical railway bridge and hint of a signal box: at the other the corner of a stationmaster’s house, beside a black tunnel leading who knows where… 

Bridging the track/gap between the rows of seating at one point was an area of wooden planking on which sat some black trunks.  This simple grouping was our first view of the absolutely marvellous set design – in essence extremely simple but capable of extreme versatility thanks to four superbly agile blue-clad ‘railway workers’ – uncredited, but fully deserving their huge applause at the final curtain.  

It wasn’t immediately obvious that this small area of planking was on a trolley on wheels which could be moved up and down the rail tracks which lay between our two tiers of seating.  The flexibility and versatility of scenes and props this enabled was a stroke of design genius: not only scenery but cast members could swiftly be moved in and out of our view, and new scenes set up out of sight and magically brought into view when required.  Fabulous [especially the landslide]!

The whole show was a marvel of such miracles, and brought smiles to all the faces intently watching and engrossed in the action playing out in front of them.  The lighting is superb, and the sound effects and music fit quite wonderfully into the drama, heightening the emotion where appropriate, but never, ever, going over the top or playing for cheap effect.  Altogether, it’s an outstanding production – a wonderful collaboration between playwright Mike Kenny and director Damian Cruden.

The story is fairly simple.  Three ordinary children – Roberta [Bobby], Peter and Phyllis – lived with their mother and father in an ordinary house with ordinary but not always nice servants and an ordinaryish mother and father.  Mother stayed at home, and father went out to work and “did something”, working for the government “to keep you all safe”: it was all very nice and, by repetition, ordinary.

Peter’s birthday, however, was far from ordinary.  Cake with candles had been brought [and blown out] when the doorbell rang.  Mysterious fragments of conversation, half-heard, ensued, and father came back to say “I’ve been called away … on business”.  Life becomes increasingly far from ordinary.  The servants leave one by one, and suddenly mother and the children pack up, leave their house, and set off for Yorkshire. All the children are told, in essence, is that “it’s not necessary for you to know anything about anything” – all they know is that mother is very unhappy and that it’s best to avoid asking any questions or talking about anything that adds to that unhappiness.

The children find life hard at first – anything they say is met with “you’re not from round here, are you?” and they become painfully aware that they are very poor – but slowly they make friends, especially with Oakworth stationmaster Perks and, when mother falls ill, with the doctor.  Their one solace is visiting the nearby railway every day, and waving to the Black Dragon, the 9.15 London train which takes their love to father.

The Old Gentleman on the train, a persecuted Russian author trying to find his wife and children, a coal-mining expedition which could have ended in disaster, a wounded [human] hound and an averted railway disaster weave their way through this narrative of adjusting to new surroundings and attendant hardships, finding friendship and help in unexpected places, and the strength of family [even when they drive you mad].

The narrative is framed by the three children, now grown up, who look back and play out the scenes from their memories – as with all families, disagreeing about the details!  It’s only in the final scene that we see Bobby, Peter and Phyllis at the ages they were at the time of their Railway Adventure, which allows a more intense dramatic experience than if the three were their ‘actual’ age.

The whole cast is superb.  Even before the show officially begins, we are invited to engage with the actors, being waved at and waving as they walk along the edges of the ‘platforms’ in front of our seats.  By the time the action begins we have become part of it rather than detached spectators waiting to be entertained: when we finally get to play a part, the whole audience acts as one, joyfully.

All the cast, from youngest to oldest, were superb – a fantastic team effort that was still completely fresh despite having been on show at least once a day, and often twice, from the end of July.  The minor parts were all beautifully presented, with much doubling up of ‘crowd’, ‘villagers’, travellers and other such parts,  and a lively ‘hare’ and ‘hounds’.   I was particularly taken with the performances of the ‘grown up’ Bobby, Peter, and Phyllis – Farah Ashraf, Raj Digva and Jessica Kaur: but everyone was excellent!

The show had so many marvellous moments I could be here for hours telling you about them, but I’ll try to be brief.  One of the most magical was the way we entered the tunnel to find out what had become of the injured hound in the local boys’ school’s ‘hare and hounds’ race – another stroke of complete genius, very simple and supremely effective.  Others: the “very long and boring” speech made by an unnamed official at the presentation ceremony after the averted disaster; the magic tricks and unexpected behaviour of the Russian emigré; Perks’ transformation from outraged repudiator of what he sees as charity to generous acceptor of birthday gifts from well-wishers; the wonderful music that built up to and accompanied some dramatic moments and the lovely song to celebrate Bobby’s birthday; and many, many more.

But the crowning moment for me, the real tears-in-the-eyes one for a lifetime lover of steam locomotives, is the first appearance in front of us of locomotive 52044, who glides towards the three children who are furiously waving red flannel petticoats, trying to stop the train from crashing into the landslide which has covered the tracks…

I was only able to see this show on the antepenultimate night – the run ends on Sunday: had I the time, I would rush to see it again immediately.  As it is, I’ll have to wait and hope that this incredibly and deservedly popular show makes its way back to the KWVR next summer.  Fingers crossed!

The Railway Children, Keighley & Worth Valley Railway, Runs until Sunday 7^th September for more information go to: https://kwvr.co.uk/railway-children/

**** (4 stars)

“Unmitigated mirth”

Previously seen in 2017 in a performance which was part of the Theatre Royal Glasgow’s 150th anniversary celebrations, this show has been revived to mark the 155th birthday of the legendary Scottish entertainer Sir Harry Lauder – and what better place to see this than in the great man’s birthplace, Portobello, on the anniversary of his birth.  Ticket sales from these performances will go to Erskine Veterans Charity, which Lauder supported in his lifetime, and of which tonight’s performer, Jamie McDougall, is an ambassador.

Born on August 4th, 1870, in humble circumstances, Lauder became the equivalent of a pop idol today, a household name with an international career, who at one time was the highest-paid entertainer in the world and was knighted in 1919 – “the first knight of the music halls”.  He started off as a comedian, but later introduced  gentle romantic songs into his performances and preferred to describe himself as a minstrel.  His only son John died in the Battle of the Somme in 1916, and Lauder spent a vast amount of time and energy entertaining the troops in France and raising over a million pounds for the care of wounded ex-servicemen by his performances around the world.  He died on February 26 1950.

Jamie McDougall, well-known and -loved tenor whose performances with Scottish Opera are always a joy, was giving his penultimate performance of Lauder.  From the moment he stepped onto the stage of Portobello’s town hall, he had us in the palm of his hand, pouring seemingly boundless energy and enthusiasm into a succession of Lauder’s catchy songs, sentimental without being saccharine, twinkling with oh-so-slightly naughty humour, and inviting us to enjoy ourselves as much as he was in performing for us.

Filmed scenes from Harry Lauder’s funeral segued into the man himself coming through the auditorium and on to the stage to meet his rehearsal pianist [the lovely and talented Derek Clark, former Head of Music at Scottish Opera].  His very first song, Stop your tickling, Jock! had the audience applauding enthusiastically – and the applause continued all night. 

While conducting the rehearsal, ‘Lauder’ was also talking to a journalist who’d come to interview him – thus providing the perfect vehicle for him to talk about his early years and the gradual growth of his success.  One of my favourite numbers was the utterly appalling temperance song he apparently sang at a Band of Hope concert when he was only five: the song was dreadful, but his rendition thereof was priceless!

What was also apparent was the man’s professionalism and the ways he ensured he was remembered, in an age which abounded in great singers, including the opera stars Gigli and Caruso… Make an entrance, always by the front door: if it’s in New York, be driven down Broadway preceded by a piper.  Use the extra space on a recording after the song has finished to carry on speaking and become known for doing this.  Cultivate a reputation for being tight with your money. In private he was obviously a very loving and generous son, husband and father, a tender-hearted man whose wife Nancy was the rock on which he leaned.

And then there were the songs…I love a lassie, a wee deoch an Doris, it’s nice to get up in the morning, we parted on the shore, the road to the Isles, and the final Keep right on to the end of the road had most of the audience joining in, with Jamie McDougall’s encouragement because singing is the thing that makes you cheery.

It wasn’t unmitigated mirth –  the tragic news his son’s death was superbly portrayed, and immediately followed by film footage from the trenches.  It was sobering to see apparently normal landscapes and realise that they concealed soldiers and weapons, and that many, or possibly all, of the men on film would not make it back home, or only with serious injuries.  What was impressive was the way Lauder didn’t abandon himself to grief but used his fame to raise money for wounded soldiers,.

And somehow, through the grief, Harry kept the sparkle and joy in his performances, just as Jamie McDougall did so superbly throughout this evening in Portobello.  I’m sad that tomorrow night is Jamie’s last-ever performance of Lauder but so very glad I had the chance to see him remember and enjoy portraying the life of the great man on his 155th birthday.

Scottish Opera: Lauder, Portobello Town Hall, Edinburgh runs until Tuesday 5^th August.

**** (4 stars)

“a welcome splurge of colour”

Think ‘IKEA’ and if you’re me, you think of furniture.  Simple, affordable, flatpack items designed to be functional and make life easier.  What I don’t really think of is IKEA as a textile manufacturer – but then I tend to think of rooms as neutral spaces against which Life happens.   Other people think of them as blank canvases on which to splurge stunning designs and vibrant colour – and this is what’s very clear in the new exhibition, part of Fringe 2025.  Originally created and displayed by the IKEA museum in Älmhult, Sweden, Dovecot is the first non-Swedish venue to receive this collection, which showcases the talents of many designers.

I was fascinated to learn that IKEA began in the early 1940s in a small shed in Elmtaryd, in the parish of Agunnaryd, in Sweden.  The shed belonged to the family of Ingvar Kamprad, who sought to increase the family income by selling ballpoint pens and other household items.  On 28 July 1943 he registered his company name, created from his initials and those of his location: I.K and E.A…  When the business proved inconsistent, Ingvar shifted his attention to furniture, and the company began to grow.  In the 1950s, he and designer Gillis Lundgren decided to move to selling flatpacks – and the rest is history.

The textile part of the story blossomed in the 1960s.  Ingvar knew that textiles – curtains, rugs, upholstery and other fabrics – were an essential part of interior design.  Swedish interiors in the early 60s were many variations on grey: Danish designer Bitten Højmark and her successor Inger Nilsson brought colour, life, and vigour to textile design, and IKEA’s designers have continued this trend to the present day.  Women started to play an increasingly important part in the development of the company, working as designers and managers, and moving the company away from a male-dominated organisation.  Filmed interviews with some of these women make an interesting introduction to the show.

And the exhibition itself?  Strangely two-dimensional – large pieces of fabric hanging from the ‘ceiling’, sometimes grouped in curved arrangements, mostly in flats.  There are gaps between them, allowing panoramic views of the astonishing range of design and colour on display.  Display cases give insights into the designers’ thought-processes and ways of working – very much hands-on, analog, rather than sitting in front of a screen playing with a mouse or digital pen.

The fabrics are loosely grouped – different sorts of pattern, influences from the natural world, imaginative story-telling, free-form.  Many designers are named and showcased.  There are giant bananas, stylised broccoli heads, slices of oranges, mushrooms, raindrops, small horses, clowns, mouths, eyes, random doodlings, beautifully accurate drawings of leaves and flowers, brightly-coloured splurges, fantastical landscapes, restrained monochrome patterns – something to please almost everyone at some time.

Like most viewers, I found designs I really loved, and ones I couldn’t conceive of living with, and everything in between.  One piece I particularly loved looked almost like a batik design of beautifully-drawn hands on which perched small finches, while a couple of exquisitely-drawn monochrome pieces also caught my eye.  One of the brightest groupings in the show was the collection of designs produced in collaboration with British designer Zandra Rhodes – KARISMATISK – which gave people dazzingly eye-popping colours and designs with which to light up their living space.  

My favourite part of the exhibition was near the end, where a small Aladdin’s cave-like ‘room’ had been set up and crammed with a breathtakingly gorgeous collection of fabrics.  A patchwork sofa strewn with a motley collection of brightly-coloured cushions, and a wooden rocking chair with a jewel-bright patchwork cushion invited you to sit and enjoy the feast of colour.  Not somewhere one might go in search of peace and quiet, but certainly somewhere to hang out when life’s dreary drabness, or the dreich winter weather, threatened to get you down.

The more interested you are in design, the more there is to discover in Dovecot’s latest exhibition.  It’s certainly broadened my appreciation of the extent of IKEA’s product range and influence on the world of interior design, and brought a welcome splurge of colour into my life.  I will continue to be profoundly grateful for my Billies, but won’t be rushing to buy new fabrics any time soon – the Fringe is just beginning, and there’s so much else to see…

IKEA: Magical Patterns, Dovecot Studios, Edinburgh, runs till 17 January 2026 for more information go to: https://dovecotstudios.com/exhibitions/ikea-magical-patterns

**** (4 stars)

“Enticingly Entertaining!”

A thoroughly enjoyable evening – for many of us a delightful trip down memory lane, and for the cast, a welcome roof over their heads!  Scottish Opera’s Pop-ups travel the length and breadth of Scotland to perform potted versions of operas old and new using a specially adapted trailer which provides the artists with a little shelter from inclement weather, but provides none for the audience!  I remember on one previous occasion sitting wrapped in my floor-length black ex-ecclesiastical cloak – and during Covid times sitting in the space encircled by my own personal hula-hoop…

Every single time, Scottish Opera’s pop-up performers deliver a potted version of an opera or operetta.  Two singers, a narrator, a cellist and a guitarist, with the assistance of some brilliantly-drawn illustrations [this time the talented Otto von Beach], canter their way through the essentials of a piece, aiming both to entertain and to entice members of the audience who may be new to the art form to pluck up their courage and find a theatre in which to experience the ‘full-fat’ version.

Tonight’s shows were two Gilbert and Sullivan classics, the Pirates of Penzance and the Gondoliers.  Storyteller Katie Barnett drew us in from the very start, encouraging a lusty aaaaaaaaaaaarh from us whenever we heard the word pirate as she told us about young Frederick, a slave to duty, who was mistakenly apprenticed by his nurse Ruth not to a ship’s pilot but to a pirate.  Orphans, pirates, policemen, a Major-General [the very model of a modern one] and his charming daughters wove their way through the complicated plot to its blessedly happy ending.  On the way, Jessica Leary and Paul Grant sang us bits of arias, duets and ensembles in which we joyfully joined the chorus on every possible occasion.

Lightbulb moment – given the audience’s joy in participating, and the accuracy of their memories, have Scottish Opera ever considered doing a ‘singalongaG&S’ evening?  I’m sure it would be a sell-out!

Back to the shows… after a respectable interval the cast came back on stage, Jessica and Paul with their brilliant accompanists, Luke Anderson on guitar and Andrew Drummond Hagan on cello.  The pirate costumes had been swapped for gondoliers’ outfits, and the setting shifted from salt-sprayed Cornwall to sunny Venice.

Gondoliers, their female admirers, a Duke, his family, and their servant became entangled with a Grand Inquisitor.  Potential kings, potential bigamists, lost, swapped and found babies, and a hard-to-find foster-mother wove their way through this narrative, with Jess and Paul doing sterling duty as just about all of the above.  Thankfully, everything was sorted out satisfactorily!  And the music was joyfully glittering with sparkling, sun-kissed melodies…

It was a clever pairing of pieces [though I am sad not to have made the acquaintance of the third piece currently on offer – the specially-composed Puffy MacPuffer and the Crabbit Canals].  I had sat through Pirates feeling a little miffed that Jess had so much less to do than Paul – but the roles were reversed in Gondoliers and she sparkled and shone along with the music.   There was less for us in the audience to do, but much to admire and enjoy.  Glorious duets – one of us will be a queen and you won’t forget you’ve married me – and the fabulous solos when a merry maiden marries and take a pair of sparkling eyes.  Narrator Katie got drawn into the etiquette lesson I am a courtier grave and serious and we would all have stood up and joined in the lively dance a cacucha, fandango, bolero had we not been trapped in the church’s pews.

All in all, it was a wonderful treat, especially since Scottish Opera so kindly came to my home town and afterwards all I had to do was walk home!  I also had a chance to say hi to Jess, one of the tutors on Scottish Opera’s award-winning Breath Cycle singing workshops, which has helped me and many others find or regain our singing voices.  The resources are now freely available on Scottish Opera’s website – don’t miss out, explore them today: who knows, you might end up on stage in a Pop-up Opera one day soon…

Music at the Brunton: Scottish Opera Pop-up Operas present A little bitof the Pirates of Penzance and the Gondoliers, Northesk Parish Church, Musselburgh, Tour Continues until 6^th of July for more information go to: https://www.scottishopera.org.uk/shows/pop-up-opera-2025/