12 May 2007
Shattered. B and the boys were with me all week in the flat I've rented for the duration, which meant much family warmth around me at the right time but also little sleep. They went back yesterday and I was slightly overcome hearing how delighted and beside himself was Buzz (14 mths) to be back among his own stuff again, he padded around the place apparently incredulous and thrilled that everything was just how he left it. I may no doubt feel something like that myself when I pop back to London tomorrow for a couple of days. But I'm loving being here in Liverpool, and the play is very well thanks for asking, and press night was an absolute blast, I was proud of the work, and very proud of Serdar and the company. Above all pleasures was that of sitting watching it with B, her first look at it and though of course she knows the play rather well having been its first dramaturg she was seeing the production for the first time and her satisfaction in experiencing it as a dirty great big piece of theatre was, well, great for me to see.
Writer friends came too, Miniaturists all, and it was lovely to share a table and a dance with them at the party after, which was held in a super-cute cult-tv-themed bar in Hope Street called F.A.B.
You'll forgive me if I don't talk about reviews here. Not because of their content!, I do care about that of course, but here's not the place, hope you don't think that weird of me. Though I can't of course resist mentioning that the picture above (Mark Arends as Michael, Alisa Arnah as Liliane) was in the Times Online, above Jeremy Kingston's piece.
Family came last night, from Dad's side. Tonight there's a veritable invasion of people with whom I share genetic material, most notably my Mum. But don't worry she's been thoroughly briefed about the 'strong language, loud gun shots and scenes of a violent nature'. And me an altar boy, n'all...