In later years I indulged in Edgar Allen Poe’s The Masque of the Red Death in what had been Battersea’s Old Town Hall and saw Katie Melua sing in the after concert.  In Manchester I was chased round a maze by a man with a chain saw raising my adrenaline in It Felt Like A Kiss.  In 2013, I paid to take my family to a preview of the Hollywood set The Drowned Man, in an old post office building in Paddington.  When I went again on the press day, I knew whom to follow and I stuck with Vinicius Salles on his thrilling story arc out into the desert on the other side of Los Angeles.  Later in 2013, I had seen the installation in Greenwich for 6 -12 year olds Against Captain’s Orders.

You can appreciate the anticipation and expectations I had for The Burnt City based on the tales of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra and their daughter Iphigenia and on Euripides Hecuba, which I know less well.  As before we were given the Punchdrunk mask to wear and plunged into darkness.  A kind of small museum exhibition preceded the main show and then an audio tour explaining some of the history of the excavation of Troy.