nor Philip Glass, I had really enjoyed a recent production of Aknaton, so I accepted an offer to go and see a Harold Pinter play at the Old Vic this evening*
The show started at 7.30 - at 7.35 I was standing alone in the
foyer watching a fuzzy version of Timothy Spall on the foyer screen. I hadn't been able to contact my friend who had my ticket and who I thought was meeting me early enough before the show for supper.
A thought crept into my head and I walked up the road to the Young Vic where my friend
was waiting for me to join her for the show that started there at 8pm. It starred Jane
Horrocks so I guessed that it would be an acting thing but it turned out to be
singing and dancing thing - the sort of thing that I really don't like.
Also, before all that, my bus from Bristol to London waited in the bus station for seventy minutes before its driver turned up - I don't feel that I've had the best use of a beautiful day
* I feel the same way about Pinter as I do about Opera - one day I will like them and then I'll know that I've grown up
The Curse of the Diaeresis. - As I said here, Mary Norris of the New Yorker “has consistently irritated me with her stubborn insistence on every bit of peevery that has encrusted the ma...
8 hours ago