April became my accidental month of theatre: seven musicals and one play filling my days with stories and escapism.
April has been another busy one. I’m still doing my best to make the most of my days (see last month’s musings), and this month that seems to have involved an unusually high number of trips to the theatre. Eight of them, in fact. It wasn’t exactly planned as a theme, but sometimes life organises itself neatly and you have to lean in.
And honestly, spending my time and money on live theatre is one of my favourite things. It’s ready‑made escapism, a guaranteed shift in perspective, and a reminder that creativity is a living, breathing thing to be enjoyed. I would see eight shows every month if I could!
Outside the auditorium lights, April has been full in other ways too. No quirky stays or trips abroad this time, but two visits to London, a weekend in Lincolnshire to see family, and plenty of time with the people who make my life feel grounded and good. A month stitched together with trains, walks, meals, conversations, and curtain calls.
Familiar Places
The month opened with a return to Lincolnshire for part of the Easter weekend – a few days of the familiar. Time with family, wide skies over RSPB Frampton Marsh, a wander through Jenny’s Wood, and good food at the Fisherman’s Rest cafe and the Roper’s Arms Italian Bistro, which was one of my husband’s favourite places to eat (to the point where we rarely went to another Italian restaurant). These visits to the Fens always feel fleeting, but it’s good to regularly reconnect with people and places.
I was back home by Easter Sunday, and despite the (ridiculously) early hour, I joined friends on Cleeve Hill for sunrise. Getting there for 6am was a real test, I don’t seem to be the early riser I know myself to be at the moment, but the reward for the extra effort was nothing short of extraordinary: a sky that shifted through every shade imaginable. There’s something about watching the day arrive from the highest point in my little corner of the world that resets everything.
Later in the month came a long‑overdue day trip down to Bournemouth to meet friends for lunch. On the way, I stopped in the New Forest National Park, known for its wild ponies, open heathland and being famously flat, for a four‑mile wander finishing with the Tall Trees Trail. This is the route I followed on this occasion; I recognised part of it from the Get Outside Champions walk back in February 2018, which added a lovely layer of nostalgia to the morning.
Miles and Conversations
There was more walking, too. I met a friend for a nine‑mile loop that began on Cleeve Hill, crossed over to Belas Knap – a Neolithic long barrow perched on the ridge, dropped into Winchcombe for a very welcome pub lunch at the walker‑friendly White Hart, and then wound back to the start via Postlip Mill. I reckon nine miles is almost the perfect length walk, especially when there is a pub lunch involved. We had a proper chinwag along the route – I’ve said it before (including in this post), but there really is something so easy about conversation when you’re moving through a landscape with someone.
Mid‑month brought a different kind of wandering – down in London where I spent the day with Sarah, who regular readers of Splodz Blogz will surely recognise. I took the train, had an excellent beetroot burger at Mildreds in Covent Garden, saw The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry (more on that shortly), and mooched around the city following our noses through alleys and across squares as the mood took us. I also took the opportunity to try on a pair of Meta glasses in the Ray‑Ban shop on Carnaby Street, and had a good look at the newly announced Osmo Pocket 4 at the DJI store in Piccadilly Circus. No purchases made (I’ve really no need for either), but it’s always fun to investigate new and shiny things.
I also made a springtime visit to Westonbirt Arboretum. The last time I was there it was autumn, so seeing the woodland floor carpeted with bluebells, primroses and wild garlic felt like stepping into an entirely different world. I stroked a sequoia (my favourite), revisited the Serbian Spruce I introduced you to last time, and walked for miles – and miles.
Back to London
And then came my second London trip: a three‑nighter booked ages ago, long before I realised April would turn into a full theatre month. This time around, not feeling the need for the quirkiness of the capsule hotel I stayed in last time, I booked the Z Hotel on the Strand. I’ve stayed in a Z Hotel once before, on the last night of my Cotswold Way hike, but I’ll be honest and say I booked it based on price and location – everything else seemed far too spendy for my liking this time, even the Premier Inns I’ve stayed in previously.
But I found it to be an excellent choice for a solo traveller. At just five minutes from Charing Cross station, right on the Strand, it was very well‑located, and ideal for a few nights in the city. I booked a room with a window (this is one of those hotels where you have to specifically choose natural light!), and I’m glad I did – the natural light is worth the extra few pounds. My room was small, yes, but not as small as it could have been. I was comfortable, the hotel was quiet, and I was happy with my choice.
I saw four shows, ate well (including an incredible treat at Donutelier), went shopping, wandered without agenda, and let myself enjoy simply being in London. It was one of those trips that didn’t need to be extraordinary to feel restorative; it just needed to be mine. And you know I’m already planning another theatre-focused trip for later in the year!
My Month of Theatre
As I write this (sat in my garden trying to get this finished before the rain starts…), I’m looking back at this accidental month of theatre with a smile. There was a mix of West End sparkle and touring productions closer to home; some brand new, some long‑running, and one or two that will have closed by the time this monthly journal goes live. Each one added something to my April. And I thought I would offer a full set of mini‑reviews, to maybe help encourage you to book to see a show soon.
Barnum: Touring production at Everyman Theatre Cheltenham
Barnum was one of those joyful evenings that remind me why I love theatre. I booked it almost entirely out of nostalgia, and went in curious to see how it would land all these years later now that The Greatest Showman has taken all the PT Barnum glory. It’s still great.
This touring production at Everyman Theatre Cheltenham, starring Lee Mead (the guy from that ‘find a Joseph’ show on the telly back in 2007), leans fully into the show’s original charm: big musical numbers and a timeless story, and that irresistible ‘Come Follow the Band’ energy. As with Calamity Jane last year, what really stood out, though, was the use of actor‑musicians. Not tucked away in the pit, but right there on stage; playing, singing, acting, and (apparently) rotating through about 150 instruments between them. It gave the whole thing a lively, slightly chaotic, circus‑like texture that suited the world of PT Barnum perfectly.
The acrobatics were another surprise. The Everyman Theatre stage isn’t very big, so watching performers flip, balance, and tumble in such a tight space was genuinely impressive. I did find myself wondering what the show would look like on a larger stage, but there was something intimate and charming about seeing it here.
I left really glad I’d gone, partly for the nostalgia, partly for the spectacle, and partly because it reminded me how important it is to support my local theatre if I want national tours to keep coming. So I actually booked a play for the following week while I was sat in my seat during the interval!
The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry: Theatre Royal Haymarket, London
This was the show Sarah and I were both determined to catch before its short London run ended – and, sorry to say, it has now done so. A real shame, because it was superb.
The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry follows an ordinary man who sets out to post a letter and, almost without meaning to, ends up walking the length of England in the hope that his journey might somehow save an old friend. It’s a simple story about walking on the surface, but it’s full of emotional weight and heartfelt humanity.
This isn’t your typical musical; it’s a serious, quietly devastating tale with just enough well‑timed humour to let the heavier themes land without overwhelming the audience. That balance is hard to achieve, and this production absolutely nailed it. The music, written by Passenger, leans into a folky, understated sound that suits the material beautifully. No jazz hands (almost), no big gospel numbers (er…), just a tale of love, loss, and the long road between the two, carried by melodies that feel lived‑in.
The staging at Theatre Royal Haymarket was incredibly slick too: simple, inventive, and emotionally precise. Both of us kept talking afterwards about how cleverly the creative team had translated the book’s internal journey into something theatrical and communal. Having read the novel and seen the film, I was curious how the musical would compare, and honestly, it did the story justice.
I’d see it again in a heartbeat, but for now all I can do is hope they announce a tour. It would tour brilliantly.
The Spy Who Came in from the Cold: Touring production at Everyman Theatre Cheltenham
This was a very last‑minute addition, booked in the interval of Barnum the week before, but I’m so glad I went. This touring production of The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, based on John le Carré’s 1963 Cold War novel, brings the story of Alec Leamas to the stage: a weary British intelligence officer sent back into the field for one final, morally murky mission. It’s classic le Carré territory; double‑crosses, blurred loyalties, and the uncomfortable realisation that no one is quite who or what they seem.
Ralf Little led the cast, and it was refreshing to see him in a serious dramatic role. The whole production was slickly acted, with that dense, dialogue‑heavy rhythm you only get in a proper play. I don’t see enough plays, and this reminded me why I should. The set worked well too: simple, atmospheric, and flexible enough to shift between interrogation rooms, safe houses, and the shadowy edges of Cold War Europe.
The torture scene was deeply uncomfortable due to how long it lasted; you could feel the entire audience shifting in their seats. But it was handled with restraint, not at all gratuitous. I also thought the way they portrayed George Smiley was particularly clever, making it clear when moments were happening in Leamas’ head versus in the real world. It was a sharp, tense, well‑executed production.
Into the Woods: The Bridge Theatre, London
I caught Into the Woods at The Bridge Theatre, where it plays until the end of May before its transfer to the West End proper, announced, fittingly, at this year’s Oliviers where it picked up an award. It was my first time at The Bridge and I was genuinely impressed: every seat angled towards the stage, a generous rake, and that rare feeling that there isn’t a bad view in the house.
If you don’t know the show, it’s essentially a glorious collision of Grimm fairy tales including Cinderella, Little Red Riding Hood, Jack and the Beanstalk, Rapunzel, the Baker and his Wife, all sharing the same world, their stories intertwining in ways that are clever, chaotic, and surprisingly moving. This production captured that beautifully. The staging was inventive, the storytelling sharp, and the whole thing had a playful, mischievous energy.
The earworm I left with was the single line that was repeated many times – ‘to grandmother’s house’ – but the real highlight was the two princes. Rhys Whitfield and Oliver Savile were superb, leaning fully into both the physical and sung comedy (‘aaaaaagony!’), giving the audience exactly what we wanted, and clearly having the time of their lives.
If the film musical version ever put you off Into the Woods, set that aside. The stage show is a completely different experience, and this production was an absolute joy.
Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club: The Playhouse Theatre, London
Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club is less a show and more an experience, one that begins the moment you step down the staircase into the club’s underworld. Your phone camera gets stickered over at the door, a gentle but firm reminder to be present, to watch with your own eyes rather than through a screen, and to avoid blocking anyone else’s view. It sets the tone perfectly. The pre‑show music and movement ripple through the space, drawing you into the world long before the first line is spoken. And when the show does start, it takes a second to remember you aren’t actually in a club and need to pay attention.
I chose a dress circle seat, which turned out to be ideal: a full, centred view of the stage, with musicians flanking both sides. But if you want to be in the action, the cabaret‑style tables wrapped around the stage look incredible. The show itself is everything Cabaret should be – strange, seductive, unsettling, and utterly compelling. A dark story told in a dark way, with characters who pull you in and iconic score and choreography that land so well.
My Emcee was Matt Willis and my Sally Bowles was Katie Hall, both excellent, both fully committed to the world of the Kit Kat Club. The whole cast delivered. And with the leads changing at the end of May as is the tradition of the current production, it’s a show that keeps evolving. If you’ve never seen Cabaret live, go. It’s theatre at its most immersive and unforgettable.
Avenue Q: Shaftesbury Theatre, London
Avenue Q wasn’t on my original theatre list for April, in fact, it wasn’t really on any list at all. I grabbed a rush ticket on the morning of the matinee (thanks TodayTix for the £30 seat in row F in the stalls, an absolute steal), and so found myself at the only musical this month I’ve seen before (back in 2008). I don’t make a habit of returning to shows when there are so many still to see, but this revival of the original West End version felt like the right exception. It’s lost none of its bite.
If you’re wondering, yes, this is the bright yellow one with the puppets. Also yes, it’s still rude, crude, and outrageously funny. The kind of humour that has the whole audience belly‑laughing while wondering if that’s allowed – and also quietly marvelling at how cleverly the puppetry and character work are done. The incredible cast switch seamlessly between voices, expressions, and personalities, and the show’s mix of satire, silliness, and surprisingly sharp observations still lands beautifully.
The Shaftesbury Theatre is currently mid‑refurbishment, with the upper circle closed, which probably works in this show’s favour – it keeps the space feeling intimate and perfectly sized for Avenue Q’s cheeky chaos. But even with that, and despite only opening a couple of weeks before I went, the Shaftesbury Theatre was far from full for this Thursday matinee performance.
This isn’t a subtle musical, but that’s the joy of it. Sometimes you just need a show that leans fully into its own chaos and invites you along for the ride. It was so much fun.
Starlight Express: Wembley Park Theatre
Starlight Express at the Troubadour Wembley Park was the anchor for this whole London trip, the one I booked first, the one everything else was built around. Having missed it in the West End back in the 1980s, I wasn’t about to let it slip through my fingers again. Good thing too, because it closes this very evening (3 May). Sorry if you missed it!
I met up with a friend I hadn’t properly seen in thirty years, which already made the day feel special. And then there’s the show itself – the one on roller skates. And honestly, that’s just the beginning of the eccentricity. This production is loud, lively, and completely bizarre in the best possible way. It throws everything at you: lights, lasers, neon, pyrotechnics, and a full‑throttle dive into a boy’s dreamworld where trains race for glory and the rules of reality politely step aside.
It’s a proper old‑school feel‑good musical, the kind that makes you wonder what exactly goes on inside Andrew Lloyd Webber’s head. The energy is relentless, the design is maximalist, and the commitment to the bit is absolute. My favourite moment might have been the little girl in the interval asking her dad ‘where are the trains?’ – a perfect reminder that this is a show where you suspend disbelief and just go with the fantastical.
I’m genuinely thrilled I finally got to see it. A wild, joyful, neon‑soaked ride. And of course I am back to wanting roller skates… should I?!
Waitress: Touring production at Birmingham Hippodrome
My final show of the month was the touring production of Waitress at the Birmingham Hippodrome, and it was an absolute treat. Written by Sara Bareilles, the musical follows Jenna, a small‑town pie maker trapped in an unhappy marriage who discovers that baking (and a surprise pregnancy), might be her way to rewrite her life. The ticket came with a warning about adult themes, and it’s fair: the show deals with complicated relationships, infidelity, and the messy reality of wanting more than the life you’ve ended up with. But it handles all of that with warmth, humour, and heart.
Carrie Hope Fletcher was a brilliant Jenna, presenting her as grounded, funny, and vocally gorgeous. But the real scene‑stealers for me were Evelyn Hoskins as Dawn and Mark Anderson as Ogie. Their chemistry was hilarious, full of awkward charm and perfectly timed comedy. In fact, I’ve now added Dawn to my (purely hypothetical) list of roles I’d love to play if I were a musical‑theatre actor… which I’m not, and never will be, of course, but still.
I was up in the middle tier, which has an excellent rake and a great view, though some of the quieter higher notes didn’t quite reach that far; I suspect the stalls would have given a fuller sound. The musicians were tucked into the corner of the stage (always a win for me), and the set changes were slick and satisfying.
My only disappointment? No pie in the interval. A tragedy, frankly.
Curtain Down on April…
Looking back, this accidental month of theatre has felt like a gift. Seven shows in four weeks; some planned, some spontaneous, some squeezed in because the run was about to end. Every single one reminded me why I love stories in all their forms. There’s something about live theatre that hits perfectly: the music, the voices, the lights, the collective hush, the way a room full of strangers leans in at the same moment. It’s escapism, yes, but it’s also connection. A couple of hours inside an emotional rollercoaster that isn’t mine, but still leaves me feeling more alive in my own skin.
I’ve enjoyed these shows on my own and with friends, and both have their magic. Solo theatre feels like slipping into another world; shared theatre becomes a conversation that continues long after the curtain falls. And it’s always paired with something nice to eat, because that’s part of the ritual too. Money well spent, every time.
And of course, now that April’s curtain has come down, my ‘to‑see next’ list is already forming. Paddington The Musical is naturally high on the list, as it is on everyone else’s. I’m also keeping an eye out for the Sam Ryder‑led Jesus Christ Superstar, trying to decide which King Herod I want to see (help!). And they’ve just announced a 30th‑anniversary revival of Rent, which I’ll be booking the moment tickets go live. What else should I be booking?!
See You Next Time…
I hope your April held its own version of story-filled joy, whatever kind of frittering, escapism, or gentle distraction you needed. Mine just happened to come wrapped in theatre tickets and stage lights, but the shape of a good month looks different for everyone.
As for what’s coming up in May, it’s long‑distance hike time again, and I cannot wait. I’ve even bought a new backpack. And new shoes! I’m heading north for this year’s adventure, boots ready, backpack almost packed, and that familiar mix of nerves and excitement settling in. More about that very soon.
In the meantime, if you fancy a different kind of escape, you can catch up on my Beach Hut quirky stay video and journal here on the blog, a little slice of winter sunshine, sea air, and cosy storytelling while I’m off chasing miles and moorland.
See you next time.