Let every eye negotiate for itself

Mutterings continued.




Speaking of cats, I woke up late on Sunday morning after the after-show party, to find Gus sitting on chest, staring at me, and Milo on the pillow next to my head, staring at me.

Just back from dins with TUS-R (who has been visiting Legoland. Or is it Penguinworld?) and is due back tonight.

I'm finally clearing my car of props - yesterday it was the tub full of flowers from Titania's bower; this afternoon it was the large wicker basket the rude mechanicals used to drag their props onto the stage in. Somewhere in the basket is a small Scottie dog that I'll have to unattach from its cardboard plinth.