13 March 2007

On me Jack Jones this week, B and the bairns lingering in Bristol where we had a get-together of her side of the family last weekend, in honour of Richard's 70th. Nice innings, well played, and I reckon he's on for the ton.

Tomorrow I head up to Liverpool for the press night of Michael McLean's new play The Electric Hills, looking forward to that very much. Michael's come out of the Everyman's young writers' programme, and has been on attachment there, and with it being his first press night type scenario I'm glad I'll be able to buy him a drink and say best of British. Got to stick together, haven't we.

Daring myself to watch Fire Walk With Me on my own late tonight. That film's ending frightened me so much when I saw it at the pictures, my bones are stained with it. All the promos for Inland Empire are reminding me of Lynch's genius, not least for the unsettling ease with which he switches a story from sublime horror to silly comedy, and back again.
I'll probably chicken out and watch the cricket*, I expect.

Just to give you the heads up (I've always wanted to say that) here's the line-up, and possibly the running order, for Miniaturists 6 at the Arcola on the 25th:

by Steve Waters
dir. Hamish Pirie

Mike's Wishes
by Benjamin Yeoh
dir. Hannah Eidinow

by Rachael McGill
dir. Merv Millar

Road Rage
by Dominic Leggett
dir. Hannah Eidinow

Catherine Medbh
by Declan Feenan
dir. Ciaran McQuillan.

Dec's play title rhymes with 'crave', he tells me. All of which reminds me yet again how shocking is my ignorance of Ireland and its culture. I'm supposed to be descended from there, and I don't know jack (or patrick).

* postscript: Well played, the Windies

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