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The opening night of this instalment of the Ashton centenary celebration was not without its hitches: a door refused to open, a ribbon refused to budge and a tube map in blood appeared on Acosta’s face during the final pas de deux. Somehow, all of this seemed to fit the whimsical tale and even the facial injury was quickly shrugged off. Both Nuñez and Acosta danced with an ebullient confidence that was clearly infectious, particularly in the zestful cheekiness of the opening scenes, but could we be sure that this was the love of a lifetime and not just a youthful fling?

The ribbon duet of Cojocaru and Kobborg was enchanting (particularly at their second performance) but there was an occasional and unusual question mark in their partnering, notably in the final ‘bum lift’ where it seemed to take some time to arrange Alina’s balance on the palm of Johan’s hand. However, their romance was palpable and gave a moment to cherish when, at the end of their final pas de deux, Lise naturally rests her head gently on her lover’s arm whilst quietly seated in the background: truly a case of art imitating life.

Ashton was apparently worried about the potential for the Widow Simone to be hammed up too much. Both William Tuckett and Alastair Marriott kept to the subtler side of overstatement, particularly when the focus had to fall on others, but neither seemed to make the clog dance fizz in the way it should.

Whilst we can easily despise the pompous pretentiousness of his portly father, Alain is a character to be cherished and our sympathy for him is ultimately rewarded: he may not get the girl but he is allowed a final coda in which to retrieve his beloved umbrella and he gets the limelight at the end of both Acts! Whilst Jonathan Howells was an excellent choice in the first cast, the lesser-known Giacomo Ciriaci was a revelation as this simple soul. A cross between Lee Evans and Robbie Williams, with a bit of Freddie Starr thrown into the mix, he played Alain as a dafter and certainly less successful version of Norman Wisdom’s perennial film character – since Wisdom was the UK’s biggest box office star at the time that Ashton’s ‘Fille’ was made, the comparison may have some resonance.

Whilst Act I of ‘Fille’ strays into Pantomime and Act II into elements of a bedroom farce, we should not forget that this is a ballet with two profound love stories at its core: the one between Lise and Colas and the other, being Ashton’s love affair with the countryside. This had lived largely unrequited since an early childhood memory - of a day spent on his grandmother’s farm - and burst into ecstasy during the idyllic Summer of 1959 in which Ashton developed ‘La Fille mal gardée’ at Chandos Lodge, his Suffolk home. This bucolic joy burned its way into every aspect of his ballet (and every bar of Jack Lanchbery’s arrangement of the score) and the outcome is a setting which will sit forever at the glorious cusp of spring and summer and a collection of rural vignettes which revere the lifestyle that he had come to adore.

With these performances, the Royal Ballet has paid an appropriate homage to its Founder Choreographer by excelling in the joie de vivre of his finest full-length work.