A Week Later
A week after my first blog and what's changed?
1. No-one's read my first blog.
2. I'm not as ill as I was last week.
3. I'm a year older.
Always found that strange how you're apparently exactly the same age for the whole year, then magically you become a year older overnight. It's an excuse to get presents I suppose. So I got lots of cards with money and book tokens from various members of my family (who were too cheap to pay for the postage of an actual present). A card and a big bottle of Southern Comfort from my flat-mates and even a card from Anna of the English and Theatre Studies crew, which was very sweet of her considering she only found out it was going to be my birthday the day before.
On said Birthday I also went to see the Pilate Workshop in Stratford. While it started well, with a great first hour (highlight was a Tony Blair impression, where his voice is drowned out by people hammering crucifixes behind him). But the second half ruined it, that's not to say there weren't good things, but towards the end it just got ridiculous. This was the first play I didn't clap for at all (and I've clapped for terrible school-boy productions of Macbeth, and strange conceptual plays in Edinburgh where you don't know what's going on), which was a shame as the actors were good and tried hard, it's just the writing and direction was terrible. After getting drunk soon after I finished the night with requesting She's Electric as my birthday song in Score, and then watching several episodes of Sex in the City. Fun was had.
So I'm feeling considerably more rainbowy than I was last week, even though I didn't get into Hamlet or Accidental Death of an Anarchist. Doesn't bother me if their productions are drab, un-colourful and definitely not rainbowy.