Melting Poss.

Mutterings continued.

The air con at work isn't functioning properly - it's actually blowing hot air into offices on the top floor and my office was 30c this afternoon. Eek. I nicked off 10 minutes early and went shopping instead.

Today's this time last year.

Stratford, glorious Stratford-upon-Avon. Friend Simon, who used to work for the RSC, hated Stratford so much that he quit his job rather than leave London. As I was walking across the bridge on the Avon the word "Home" came into my head. I've only ever seen the place as a tourist but I still love it.





The last time I was here was in 2000 with Ash. She resolutely stood, well, sat, in the returns queue for hours to get us tickets to Sam West's Richard II. I'm so glad she did and have dubbed her St Ash of the Blessed Queue. I didn't see any live theatre this time however I had booked 3 videos at the Stratford library. The RSC records all their performances for posterity. They video them very badly - one stationery camera aimed at the middle of the stage - but at least they do record them.

I booked into the same B and B we stayed at in 2000 and ended up with the same room. The poor landlord had broken his leg falling down the stairs and was confined to the kitchen.

Speaking of the RSC and London, it seems that their decision to move from the Barbican and become homeless in London hasn't paid off. They ran up debts of nearly 1,000,000 pounds in their last season and none of the other theatres are willing to take the risk of mounting an RSC production. There's a lot of unhappiness in the ranks.