Brigitte Uhrmann retweetledi
Statue of that famous rescue act
Restoring Your Faith in Humanity@HumanityChad
In 2016, men saved a dog from a reservoir in Almaty, Kazakhstan. In 2017, a statue was made for them
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Brigitte Uhrmann
14.5K posts
Brigitte Uhrmann
@BrigitteUhrmann
Life without theatre and music is an error. Patron of the RSC.
Katılım Ocak 2014
552 Takip Edilen737 Takipçiler
@daveainsworth63 I remember her on the Olivier stage in Bulgakov's Flight with Alan Howard, Kenneth Cranham, Nicholas Jones, Peter Blythe. What a cast, what a dark, black, sarcastic play.
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Happy Birthday to the wonderful English actress Abigail Cruttenden who was born on this day in 1968. #AbigailCruttenden #Sharpe #NotGoingOut #PtangYangKipperbang #Benidorm #IntimateContact #Mog #VanderValk #TheCasebookOfSherlockHolmes #FoylesWar #TheRobinsons #DoctorsAndNurses
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@sfh300 My mistake, sorry.
I envy you for these quiet early mornings at that special place. Every time in there I feel the weight of battles for thrones, power, territories, the grief over losses.
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@BrigitteUhrmann As a uni student in Canterbury, I had a pass to the Cathedral Precinct. I used to go into the cathedral in the very early hours and just sit alone among all that history before matins (7am). I had the whole place to myself. Magical.
Also, Thomas Becket wasn’t knighted.
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For centuries Sir Thomas Becket rested between Henry IV and Edward the #BlackPrince. And there was peace. Then Henry VIII had the martyr's shrine destroyed. Reliable sources say now there is havoc at midnight. I can almost hear the Prince shout: YOU KILLED MY SON!
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Every word worth reading, this takes the temperature of the world right now. Very moving.
Gandalv@Microinteracti1
Robert Mueller died last night. He was 81 years old. He had a wife who loved him for sixty years. He had two daughters, one of whom he met for the first time in Hawaii, in 1969, on a few hours of military leave, before he got back on the plane and returned to Vietnam. He had grandchildren. He had a faith he practiced quietly, without performance. He had, in the way of men who have seen real things and survived them, a quality that is increasingly rare and increasingly mocked in the country he spent his life serving. He had integrity. And tonight the President of the United States said good! I have been sitting with that word for hours now. Good. One syllable. The thing you say when the coffee is hot or the traffic is moving. The thing a man who has never had to bury anyone, never had to sit in the specific silence of a room where someone is newly absent, reaches for when he wants the world to know he is satisfied. Good. The daughters are crying and the wife is alone in the house and good. I want to speak directly to the Americans reading this. Not the political Americans. Just the human ones. The ones who have lost a father. The ones who know what it is to be in that first hour, when you keep forgetting and then remembering again, when ordinary objects become unbearable, when the world outside the window seems obscene in its indifference. I want to ask you, simply, to hold that feeling for a moment, and then to understand that the man you elected looked at it and typed a single word. Good. This is not a country having a bad day. I need you to understand that. Countries have bad days. Elections go wrong. Leaders disappoint. Institutions bend. But there is a different thing, a rarer and more terrible thing, that happens when the moral center of a place simply gives way. Not dramatically. Not with a single catastrophic event. But quietly, in increments, until one evening a president celebrates the death of an old man whose family is still warm with grief, and enough people find it acceptable that it becomes the weather. Just the weather. That is what is happening. That is what has happened. The world knows. From Tokyo to Oslo, from London to Buenos Aires, people are not angry at America tonight. Anger would mean there was still something to fight for, some remaining faith to be betrayed. What I see, in the reactions from everywhere that is not here, is something older and sadder than anger. It is the look people get when they have waited a long time for someone they love to find their way back, and have finally understood that they are not coming. America is being grieved. Past tense, almost. The idea of it. The thing it represented to people who had nothing else to believe in, who came here with everything they owned in a single bag because they had heard, somehow, across an ocean, that this was the place where decency was written into the walls. That idea is not resting. It is not suspended. It is being buried, in real time, with 7,450 likes before dinner. And the church said nothing. Seventy million people have decided that this man, this specific man who has cheated everyone he has ever made a promise to, who has mocked the disabled and the dead and the grieving, who celebrated tonight while a family wept, is an instrument of God. The pastors who made that bargain did not just trade away their credibility. They traded away the thing that made them worth listening to in the first place. The cross they carry now is a costume. The faith they preach is a loyalty oath with scripture attached. When the history of American Christianity is written, this will be the chapter they skip at seminary. Now I want to talk about the men who stand next to him. Because this is the part that actually breaks my heart. JD Vance is not a bad man. I have to say that, because it is true, and because the truth matters even now, especially now. Marco Rubio is not a bad man. Lindsey Graham is not a bad man. They are idiots, but not bad, as in BAD! These are men with mothers who raised them and children who love them and friends who remember who they were before all of this. They are not monsters. Monsters are simple. Monsters do not cost you anything emotionally because there is nothing in them to mourn. These men are something more painful than monsters. They are men who knew better, and know better still, and will get up tomorrow and do it again. Every small compromise they made had a reason. Every moment they looked the other way had a justification that sounded, at the time, almost reasonable. And now they have arrived here, at a place where a president celebrates the death of an old man and they will find a way, on television, to say nothing that means anything, and they will go home to houses where children who carry their name are waiting, and they will say goodnight, and they will say nothing. Their oldest friends are watching. The ones who knew Rubio when he still believed in something. Who knew Graham when he said, out loud, on the record, that this exact man would destroy the Republican Party and deserve it. Who sat next to Vance and thought here is someone worth knowing. Those friends are not angry tonight. They moved through anger a long time ago. What they feel now is the quiet, irrecoverable sadness of watching someone disappear while still being present. Of watching a person they loved choose, again and again, to become less. That is what cowardice costs. Not the coward. The people who loved him. And in the comments tonight, the followers celebrate. People who ten years ago brought casseroles to grieving neighbours. Who stood in the rain at gravesides and meant the words they said. Who told their children that we do not speak ill of the dead because the dead were someone's beloved. Those people are tonight typing gleeful things about a man whose daughters are not yet done crying. And they feel clean doing it. Righteous. Because somewhere along the way the thing they were given in exchange for their decency was the feeling of belonging to something, and that feeling is very hard to give up even when you can no longer remember what you gave for it. When Trump is gone, they will still be here. Standing in the silence where the noise used to be. Without the permission the crowd gave them. Without the pastor who told them their cruelty was holy. They will be alone with what they said and what they cheered and what they chose to become, and there will be no one left to tell them it was righteous. That morning is coming. Robert Mueller flew across the Pacific on military leave to hold his newborn daughter for a few hours before returning to the war. He came home. He buried his dead with honour. He served presidents of both parties because he understood that the institution was larger than any one man. He told his grandchildren that a lie is the worst thing a person can do, that a reputation once lost cannot be recovered, and he lived that, every day, in the quiet and unglamorous way of people who actually believe what they say. He was the kind of American the world used to point to when it needed to believe the story was true. He died last night. His wife is alone in their house in Georgetown. His daughters are learning what the world is without him in it. And somewhere in the particular hush that falls over a family in the first hours of loss, the most powerful man and the biggest loser on earth sent a message to say he was glad. The world that loved what America was supposed to be is grieving tonight. Not for Robert Mueller only. For the country that produced him and then became this. For the distance between what was promised and what was delivered. For the suspicion, growing quieter and more certain with each passing month, that the America people believed in was always partly a story, and the story is over now, and there is nothing yet to replace it. That is all it needed to be. A man died. His family is broken open with grief. That is all it needed to be. Instead the President said good. And the country that once stood for something looked away 🇺🇸 Gandalv / @Microinteracti1
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Thank you so much to everyone on this photo. I was mightily impressed last year to see what all the efforts of so many talented experts have achieved. Chapeau! #NotreDame #LaPlusBelle
The Best@Thebestfigen
That is a photo of all the workers who have spent more than five years restoring the Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris.
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Brigitte Uhrmann retweetledi
@fantomfilms I will never forget how you helped us through the pandemic with your magnificent online events. My GP would not let me travel before the booster with my asthma, but you kept us in contact with the artists and the other fans. Thank you again.
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We're celebrating 21 years of Fantom today, and over the next few days we're going to hop into the TARDIS for some memories of days when our hair wasn't grey, a Freddo was 10 pence and there were still 97 missing episodes of Doctor Who!
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@daveainsworth63 Lesley was wonderful in THE VISIT at NT. Looking forward to DANGEROUS LIAISONS, perfect casting.
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Happy Birthday to the great English actress Lesley Manville who was born on this day in 1956. #LesleyManville #TheRSC #ChorusGirls #AnotherYear #AllOrNothing #TopsyTurvy #PhantomThread #MrsHarrisGoesToParis #Mum #TheCrown #Sherwood #TopGirls #TheFirm #GrownUps #Queer #VeraDrake
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@Sharonmuskebear I love it too. So much to see. Went to Rochester a long time ago.
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@BrigitteUhrmann Amazing! I love Canterbury Cathedral. We visited last year, along with Rochester.
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TRANSPORT, the #AntonyGormley statue in #CanterburyCathedral is made of iron nails from the roof. It hovers in the air between Becket's first resting place in the crypt and the shrine later destroyed by Henry VIII.
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@BrigitteUhrmann That's a place that I must go to some time. We visited very briefly on our way to catch a ferry and I would love to spend more time inside the cathedral and also in Canterbury itself .
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#Summerfolk at @NationalTheatre, a triumph in 99 and also tonight. The new middle-class escaped their modest roots and get terribly detached from their origins, bored. Only the idealistic doctor (Justine Mitchell) still feels the solidarity. The play's humour is shining through.
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@HelenSGidley @berbar66 And the "restricted view" was not really restricted. Great seat, reasonable price.
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@berbar66 @BrigitteUhrmann Thanks Polly,it’s not until the summer though.
I love the Bridge too,especially the taller seats with the foot rests,so comfortable 😘🌷🪻💗🌈
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I'm not much into musicals, but could not resist Sondheims #IntoTheWoods at @bridgetheatre. Enjoyed the wit, cheekiness, tempo, performances, costumes, set. #KateFleetwood's witch and #OliverSavile's Wolf/Prince are spectacular. Great fun.
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@Sharonmuskebear It is a thriller from the financial world and also a captivating family drama. Saw it with Suchet before. Both productions were top drawer. So lucky.
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@BrigitteUhrmann Glad you enjoyed it after you had waited so long to see it again. I don't really know the play, I'll have to read up about it, but I love Ben Daniels, great actor. I've been to a play in the Dorfmann and it is quite 'cosy' 😁
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Mesmerized by #Rattigan's #ManAndBoy in 2005, happy to revisit at BT with another splendid cast. #BenDaniels puts the stage on fire as manipulative devil. When his star falls,all desert him but his son who can't help loving him. #LaurieKynaston eats my heart out with his sadness.
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@Sharonmuskebear It is, Sharon. I love that play and had to wait 20y for another great cast. Ben Daniels dominates the stage as cock-sure fraudster, Laurie Kynaston gives such touching vulnerability. It was intense, especially in the tiny Dorfmann.
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@BrigitteUhrmann Sounds like it's a wonderful production. You've got a full itinerary as always for your UK visit. Thanks for sharing all the pictures Brigitte 📸
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@HelenSGidley @bridgetheatre Oh yes, lyrics are on a different level than some modern works. Hope you'll enjoy Sweeney Todd.
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@BrigitteUhrmann @bridgetheatre I always think how hard Sondheim songs must be to sing.I’ve always wanted to see Sweeney Todd though & I’m getting my chance in Birmingham later in the year with Ramin Karimloo 😘😘🌷🪻💗🌈
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