The key moment in Tim Firth’s nourishing new musical would be easy to miss. It comes after a very funny Michele Dotrice has been on a rant about playground games. As Ivy, an endlessly raging former trades union rep, she considers enjoyment to be politically suspect. “Nothing makes me more angry than people trying to make me happy,” she fumes.
But no sooner has she let off steam than a hand reaches out to her. It belongs to one of the primary school children who are never far away in Joyce Branagh’s production. It is the smallest of gestures, as simple as it is innocent, but one that straddles the generations. Momentarily silencing Ivy, the handclasp connects the playfulness of youth with the glorious eccentricity of old age.
