The whole point about Shakespeare is that you can set the play on an intergalactic space station or an American high school and keep virtually the rest unchanged. What happens when you transpose Dream from a proscenium arch to a living wood? As the sun sets over the trees, what sprites will come out to entertain us?

Ruined Theatre brings a brilliant cast of seasoned West End performers to strut their hour among the ruins of Abbey Wood. Hey, gentrification has its benefits, OK?

I don't know how many times I've seen "Dream", but I know I've never seen it performed in an actual wood during summer. Booking the tickets a few weeks ago during England's heatwave, it sounded perfect. A warm, dusky evening, accompanied by færies and asses. The British weather, of course, had other ideas.

The Show Must Go On

The storm clouds were, as the bard wrote, heavy, black and, pendulous. Outside it may be raining, their makeup may be flaking, but everyone knows that Shakespeare is best played when defying the elements, right?

Even in the rain, it was great! Theseus and Hippolyta as selfie-obsessed poseurs made for a delightful start. Recasting Athens as Lesnes was a great touch. And then we were led through the woods. Rather than traipse us from scene to scene, we settled in to a clearing - bringing our own camping chairs with us - and watched the magic unfold.

Half the fun is in watching children and teenagers giggling at Hermia's rage and Bottom's overconfident bombast. But you can't go wrong with actors studiously ignoring the downpour and professing their (misplaced) love for each other. Honestly, who'd lie down in the mud just to make us chuckle? How many laughs can you ring out of a man with an ass's head? Lord, what fools these mortals be!

It is a fairly straightforward production. Aside from modern dress there wasn't much updating of the text other than trimming it down. The smoke machine might have been an eerie touch on a still summer's night, billowing around us, instead the wind took it before it had a chance to settle. The incidental music worked well - especially the intertextuality of Pyramus & Thisbe playing to the Romeo+Juliet soundtrack - but the speakers were over-driven and distorted. A small crimp on an otherwise fine production.

Reflections in a dappled pond

I'm fairly sure I once played Demetrius in a youth production. Or possibly Lysander. I know I got to kiss Helena. Or possibly Hermia. The mind plays funny tricks as you age. Some of the more dreary prose becomes light and airy. The laughs which felt forced come more easily. The gender politics a little more nuanced.

You can never go back, of course. But you will always remember your first stage kiss with Hermia (or possibly Helena) with great affection. Seeing Shakespeare again and again and again in a hundred different variations just helps you realise what a master storyteller he was.