Columnists June 2007
Imogen Lloyd Webber on the lone female traveller; Bill Knott stands up for Punch and Judy; and Nilda Guerra sells Cuban dance thrills in London
SPEAKERS’ CORNER
SPOTTED A SINGLE GIRL READING A BOOK OVER DINNER? SAVE YOUR PITYING LOOKS, SAYS IMOGEN LLOYD WEBBER. WITH NO KIDS TO ENTERTAIN OR HUSBAND TO ARGUE WITH, THE LONE WOMAN TRAVELLER SHOULD BE ENVIED, NOT FEARED
I AM SINGLE. A single girl (SG) at that. Post-Bridget Jones and Carrie Bradshaw, the SG is rightly celebrated everywhere from the office to shoe shops up and down the land. Society is recognising us as the assets we are. Except when it comes to one thing.
The one area where we SGs remain social pariahs, regarded by the world at large as warily and as pityingly as a spinster used to be by matriarchs in Jane Austen’s time, is when we travel – unaccompanied. Then we suffer from peoples’ pride and prejudice.
Myself and my SG girlfriends – of all ages – often go away alone for work and occasionally for relaxation. Yet from the moment we totter through airport doors trailing our wheelie suitcases, we suddenly appear to have grown three heads and purple stripes. Suspicious stares follow us at every turn; there is palpable fear in everyone we encounter. What is this SG? Husband-taker, heartbreaker (or maybe broken) and therefore a bunny boiler? There must be something wrong with this woman, they surmise, hence we deserve our single-supplement punishment and grumpy gazes.
This is unfair. It is only natural for the SG after a long day’s work on a business trip to desire a drink or dinner in a restaurant, as opposed to the bank-breaking minibar and room service. However, my SG friends and I have found that businessmen either condescendingly cold shoulder us as not being one of their own or conclude that we are of the world’s second-oldest profession. So do the hotel concierges, who watch us like hawks, while a trip is never completed without a barman or waiter making an inappropriate comment or move.
And despite the inroads made in the SG’s reputation in other matters, the single holiday is still perceived to be (both inside and outside the SG sisterhood) one of the last bastions of bravery.
Why? We modern SGs are fully functional human beings at the top of our game, going out every night – for work and play. We spend so much time being “on” in our hometowns that we reach a point where we simply can’t face conversation.
Yes, we could go away with other SGs but what if we’re not compatible? One may be keen on monuments, another on margaritas. Precious holiday time can’t be wasted. Sometimes it’s just too much hassle to organise the companions required – so why is it strange for an SG to holiday alone; to luxuriate in not speaking to a soul if we can help it?
We all occasionally need to give ourselves a break to keep mind, body and soul in order. It’s only natural that we SGs take advantage of our extra disposable income in the holiday fund, unrestricted by school breaks or a partner’s preferences. Yet there is still only one real option for the SG – the spa – since the sheer narrow-mindedness on display everywhere else when vacationing alone can be too much. But even at these pampering palaces the lone SG is confronted with one large obstacle: dinner. At a spa there will always be an official “singles” table, which will be mainly populated by “joiners” – the sort of person who joins in outdoor activities whatever the weather. Sometimes couples bored of each other will even sit on it as well. Just because an SG is alone on holiday, it does not mean she wants to join the “talkers’ table”. The idea of a talkers’ table is a good one, but if an SG eschews the option, I have not yet met one who can report that mass offence has not been caused among the joiners. Betrayal by one of their own – the horror!
Society must rethink. Last year the Office of National Statistics reported that there are more single women than wives in England and Wales. So next time you notice a woman travelling solo, don’t see her as a threat or someone you should feel sorry for. The only look you are allowed to give her is an envious one. Believe me, it’s the biggest compliment you can pay an SG travelling alone.
The Single Girl’s Guide by Imogen Lloyd Webber is published by Summersdale (£7.99); www.singlegirlsguideonline.com
Photography: Rex Features
FLYING THE FLAG
BILL KNOTT PAYS TRIBUTE TO AN ENDEARING, ENDURING RASCAL
A question for you. Which Italian economic migrant was 345 years old last month, entertained Samuel Pepys on several occasions, is frequently accused of violence, and has himself been regularly attacked for the last century or so by a crocodile?
The answer is the Italian Commedia dell’Arte marionette Pulcinella, whose name was anglicised to Punchinello, and then to Mr Punch. He first entertained English crowds celebrating the wedding of Charles II in 1662, and his antics with wife Joan (later Judy), the baby, the dog Toby, the Beadle (later the Policeman) and sundry others, including the Devil, have been delighting (and scaring) children and adults ever since.
In recent years, Mr Punch has regularly come under attack from our (often self-appointed) moral guardians, who object to what they see as domestic violence in Punch and Judy. Presumably they also object to bearded gentlemen climbing down chimneys and breaking into children’s bedrooms. Heaven knows how morally corrupting the idea of a young princess sharing a house with seven vertically challenged men must be.
One town council even tried to ban a show in which the “professor”, as a Punch and Judy performer is correctly known, created puppets of various dictators to portray a topical newsy message. The fact that bogeymen of one sort or another – including Napoleon – have always featured in the shows did not occur to them. Punch and Judy is anarchic: it is not meant as a morality tale, and the iconoclastic Mr Punch is no respecter of reputations.
But Mr Punch is far from dead, and – as a recent Covent Garden festival proved – there are still hundreds of professors eager to carry the legend forward and to aim a proverbial slapstick at any killjoy who wants to interfere.
All together now… that’s the way to do it!
CULTURE VULTURE
“VIVA CUBA!” SAYS ARTISTIC DIRECTOR AND CHOREOGRAPHER NILDA GUERRA
The British and Cubans have a shared geography: both live on a windy island cut off from a large and sometimes overwhelming continent. The result is that both have strong national identities, a fatalistic sense of humour and have developed a pretty unique artistic culture that punches way over its weight.
For culture-loving Britons living on the damper side of the Atlantic, Cuba has long held an exotic fascination. But apart from the ubiquitous images of Fidel Castro, Che Guevara, cigars and 1950s Tropicana dancers with fruit piled on their heads, very little of live, modern Cuban culture has broken into the UK mainstream. Cuban art in all forms is firmly part of the cultural scene in continental Europe, but it has yet to permeate more widely on these shores. This means that there’s lots of scope for a full-on Cuban cultural invasion in many areas. Music and dance (predominantly classical) are the two main ones where advance parties have had success.
Ry Cooder certainly helped with the Buena Vista Social Club, and The Cuban National Ballet and Carlos Acosta have wowed the audiences of London.
If recent dance reality shows on television are anything to go by, Brits have rediscovered that they actually do have two feet and a sense of rhythm, so it seems the perfect time to bring contemporary Cuban dance to London.
The dancers in my company, Ballet Rakatan, are from contrasting backgrounds: some of them are flamenco dancers, some trained in salsa and others in the folkloric styles. For my new show, Havana Rakatan, they will display the incredible range of music and dance that exists in Cuba today. They dance traditional folkloric styles, mixing them with the classic mambo, rumba and salsa styles which have developed over the last 75 years, throwing in a healthy amount of urban street flavour. Music and dance have always been a way of life in Cuba. Bring it on in Britain!
Havana Rakatan is showing till 23 June at the Peacock Theatre, Portugal Street, London WC2A 2HT; +44 (0)844 412 4322; www.sadlerswells.com
