Back-to-back theater: Timon of Athens at Shakespeare's Globe yesterday and Stoppard's new translation of Chekov's Ivanov starring Kenneth Branaghghghgh (acting very much like Hamlet, but acting very well). The latter was truly outstanding; I don't know when I've ever felt so engrossed in live theater. Go look up the reviews online: all I can add to them is that they do the production justice.
Got way, way lost around Covent Garden walking home; I'd passed the London branch of Forbidden Planet on my way to the theater and had stupidly assumed I'd be able to find it again on my way home without noting, say, the street name. This was to prove not to be the case, and I learned that the Centre Point tower, which I'd been using as a navigational guide, looks exactly the same from the east as from the south. I did, however, come across Detroit Bar (careful, makes noise) which promises "no attitude, no pretension, just Detroit." I will obvs be back.
Explorations in British confectionary continue with the purchase of a Cadbury Crunchie bar. The packaging advertises "milk chocolate with golden honeycombed centre." I'm still not sure way that last bit means, but it was very tasty indeed, much more so than the stupid Aero bar.
3 comments:
sounds like more than grandville. all i've got is that when cameron squeezed my face together as i lifted him out of the car, he bent his head back and said "you look like a cheeseburger!" love, mom
"Branaghghghgh" = typo, gagging noise, or transcribed pronunciation?
although i haven't had many, i do miss having intellectual conversations with you (incl. and esp. over wine at white dog).
ps: am i being too curmudgeonly when i complain about your white-on-black colour scheme?
xo
ps: CRUNCHIE IS AMAZING. that's all.
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