What songs come to mind when you hear the name Kate Bush? The hairbrush poised as a makeshift microphone, whilst you sway in the mirror to Running Up That Hill. Maybe you thrashed around your room in time with the barking symphonies of Hounds of Love. Or, you enjoyed humming the mispronounced harmonies of Babooshka. Imagine all of that encapsulated into one night of spectacular theatre.
Isolation. Grief. Retreat. Withdrawal. Cold thrusts us into the world of two parents dealing with a pain so unbearable, a very specific type of exquisite suffering.