Wednesday 12 October 2011


She's quite a babe. And she kept looking at me. Yes, every time I swiveled my head round 120 degrees, she was looking at me. I bet she wanted my autograph...probably recognised me from my blog. She probably fancied me. Of course she fancied me. I guess she just was too shy to ask for my number. I expect I'm on her list of five.

As for the bloke she was with, well what can I say? A shock of white hair. He just sat shoulders hunched staring forwards. Pretending to focus; pretending to concentrate. He didn't look over once. He did look quite self-satisfied. Smug even. Just as if he was successful. But not in the same league as me. Harumph.

I had no idea that Samantha Bond and Sir Derek Jacobi were friends.

They sat behind us whilst we were at The Old Vic watching Playboy of the Western World. I'd been more or less dragged there by The Cat's Mother who has taken quite a delight in getting me to see all the plays that I studied for 'O' and 'A' Level. I hadn't really been able to remember best I was fuzzy on the story. But it was as the curtains went up that my memories came flooding back. My heart sank. The performance last night was a good one. The production was a fine one. But as a play JM Synge's piece leaves me cold. All I could think of were the ridiculous questions asked about characterisation, plot, motivation and dynamics. When it was first written it may well have been a classic, savagely funny and shocking. But it's not aged well. It was pretty dull as I sat at the back of Mr Giles' English class 35 years ago, and unlike a good red wine has not aged well.

So thank heavens Samantha was practically drooling over me.