Comedian Richard Herring writes about going to see a play at the Gate (and stalking Michael Billington), in that compulsively readable style of his. Must try and get to see his latest show before it goes to Edinburgh. Which thought prompts another, that I'm not seeing enough stuff in media other than theatre and telly. I wonder in fact if I don't need a break from the former. Market Boy was a wonderful experience, but Phedre at the Donmar left me cold. Clare Higgins is brilliant in the lead, but the production as a whole put me in mind of Paul Miller's neat disparagement of the majority of classical or neo-classical plays when given the "searing" production the artistic team thinks they deserve, when in fact the wonder of plays like Phedre and Hippolytus, its Euripidean model, is their acute understanding of the fragility of everything. So why's everyone shouting?
As far as telly goes, recent absorbing stuff has been 24 (fourth season), Funland, Lost, and Big Brother (at least until we have to turn off so we can eat our dinner). And the sport of course. In the absence of any terrestrial cricket (if you know what I mean) I've been watching some of Channel 5's baseball. But I have been reading a novel - Zola's Therese Raquin. Also compulsive, but utterly depressing.