A knight at the opera

12 June, in the year of our Lord 2022

Lords day. After dinner with Mr. M. Jones by coach to the theatre, where met with Sir Alex. Anstey (he being up from the Bath with an old retainer), Mr. I. Jones (not the man who tempers my clavachord, but another) and his wife, there to see the play Percival, with musique wrote for it by Mr. Rich. Wagner. But Lord! the length of it all, which was over five hours (or near to six, I think), and having took the precaucion of buying in advance an entry to the ‘A-List Bar’, 1l, thinking there to advantage ourselfs away from the hoy polio, did find the intervals to be only twenty and forty minutes, and naught other than san[d]wiches to eat, very dear, though the good woman behind the bar kept them in the frige for us and in the second Intervale we eat them with some crisps. All over after nine a-clock at night, I wondering that all in the pit sat through it without complaynt, for I think it the most ridiculous thing I ever saw in my entire life, and all sung in Doutch. Mr. M. Jones sayed he liked the bits where everyone sang with a lot of trompettes, but did not understand the story, which is to do with an idiot called Mr. Percival, some old king, an evil magician, a cursed trollope and the holy Grayl, though I did not try to explayne it to him, for I did that with Line of Duty and Westworld and it was to no availe. All parted very merrie for having been in such good company, though if we had sought a tavern instead of act the Second, we could have had a decent meal, still joyed the end and not home hungry.