In Mog on Fox Night by Judith Kerr, the family cat would prefer an egg to the fish in her bowl but grumpy Mr Thomas insists Mog finish what she’s been given. This, bizarrely, is the same bitter dispute that motors Bill Naughton’s Bolton drama in which Hilda Crompton returns home tipsy on a Friday night and the prospect of herring for tea turns her stomach. Her father Rafe nixes an alternative from mother Daisy (“there’s no fried eggs coming on the scene!”) and the uneaten herring causes trouble all weekend.
Lotte Wakeham’s in-the-round production brings us snugly into Katie Scott’s 1960s living-room set, with clustered photo frames hanging above. They contain the kind of wedding snaps that grow familiar as wallpaper to a family but Naughton shows how long it naturally takes us to fully appreciate the daily ins and outs of our parents’ lives, especially before they had children. The most touching moment comes when the restrained Rafe says his offspring will understand his love when they tend a sick infant of their own.
