See my stab at a cliffhanger failed miserably. I'd be no good writing for EastEnders, would I.
Happiest birthday congrats are due to Ova Girl. She is the smartest playwright on the the block now in her new Campers with monkeys on. Well played, C (I'm assuming hubbie bought them for her). If you don't know who I'm talking about go to her site toot sweet.
Over here meanwhile I am not a hundred percent, with mystery pain in right side since Monday eve. I'm hoping it's nowt, seeing the doc later, before I go with B to see Theatre of Blood (at last).
On the subject of critics, do we not think the Indie should have a think about letting Paul Taylor do those preview write-ups before reviewing the plays himself? He had a cosy chat with David Lan and Helen McCrory in the run-up to the As You Like It opening, then rubbished the production today. He'd probably say it's his job to ask people what they plan to do, then later write about whether they'd succeeded. But to me it seems not quite cricket. When approached, Lan and McCrory (director and star) could hardly have turned down an interview in a broadsheet read by their target audience. But they probably said to themselves after, I bet he hates it, after all that schmooze. And lo.
(ps just read Charles Spencer in the Telegraph. makes PT look like a pussycat. ouch.)
stop press: doc says it's a muscular thing. it really hurts! that darned washing machine probably responsible... next time i'll get someone else to do it! virility be hanged.