All the world’s a stage

Several hundred tons of concrete later, the refurbished Wellington Grill is about to open under the guidance of the redoubtable Kimberly and David. For their next trick—the first one having been to attract swarms of people to Wellington as an eating destination—they will launch an Italian trattoria to bring in those legions of Vespa-riding, open-shirted, necklacedangling, espresso-swilling Italian food lovers who have been holding out on us. Heaven only knows how we will be able to cope with the traffic chaos.But what intrigues me most about our soon-to-be-open venue lies above street level, in the distinctive Romeo and Juliet-style balcony that faces out on to Wellington M a i n Street. What do they have up their sleeve for it, or better still, what should we have up our sleeves for them?

To begin with, the balcony would be a perfect reviewing stand for parades. No more would our Darryl Kramps and Todd Smiths have to march alongside the pipe bands and baton twirlers; instead, they could wave down from above and perhaps even, in the style of William and Kate, embrace affectionately. Come to think of it, with that quite regal perch, we could look to trade up. The next time the Wellington Dukes win a major trophy, what’s to stop us from inviting a luminary such as Don Cherry to bestow his graces on the passing throngs? And maybe Margaret Atwood could come back to the County to just wave, and thereby raise more funds for the Purdy A-Frame Trust.

As an alternative idea, what’s to stop the balcony being used for political speeches? Going retro is all the rage these days. The next time there is a mayoral contest, candidates could do a whistle stop door of the County by truck, and stop by in Wellington for a pep rally for the troops. The lofty altitude might precipitate more inspired speeches. Which prompts me, along with Rex Murphy (cue the scowl, please), to note the shocking decline in the standard of public oratory over the past few years. Could Wellington become the proving ground for a National School of Oratory, where would-be leaders of all persuasions are bunked in at our various inns and bed and breakfasts and, fortified by a hearty serving of spaghetti Bolognese and County wine, let loose on an indifferent crowd darting in and out of the Foodland to pick up a few groceries? Could this become the inspirational stimulus we need to restore confidence to our economy?

A still further idea is drawn from the name of the balcony itself. Niagara Falls has it Shaw Festival, Stratford has its Shakespeare Festival, so why couldn’t Wellington have its own Festival of Things with Balcony Scenes? Every year, of course, we’d put on a production of Romeo and Juliet with the famous “wherefore art thou, Romeo” scene, but we could draw on such other stalwarts as Don Giovanni, Phantom of the Opera and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. And in the offseason, we could have entertainment by assorted poets, jesters and minstrels. All we’d have to do is close down Main Street at the traffic light and reroute the traffic, and line up 30 or 40 rows of chairs in each of four directions. We’d be in clover before we knew it.

Now I doubt whether Kimberly and David have yet conjured up all these possibilities. In fact, I doubt whether they intended to make as major an investment as they did in Wellington’s real estate infrastructure. I am hopeful they will not resort to using their stylish new balcony simply to hang an inflatable dancing ravioli noodle or have a Don Corleone stand-in proclaim the evening specials to the world. But even if they do, I thank them for their confidence in Wellington and for going to the expense of putting in something pleasurable to the eyes and that lets our imaginations wander.

And, of course, I wish them best of luck in their new endeavour. I’ll be the first to call in with a reservation for two under the name ‘Capulet’.

David Simmonds’s writing is also available at www.grubstreet.ca.