I have been out and about a good deal this year, mainly work, but some treats including last night’s trip to the pantomime at the Theatre Royal Stratford East, and, at the other end of theatrical experience, to see Juliet Stevenson and Lia Williams in Mary Stuart at the Almeida Islington. But more about them perhaps in another post.
Now I have a free day, am at home and the evidence of my comings and goings is all around me in unfolded clothes and unread newspapers. Of course I could put those unread papers straight into the recycling, but I have missed quite a lot of the news this week. Octavia filled my astonished ears last night with the Donald Trump/Meryl Streep story as we travelled home from the panto. So actually reading some of the papers this morning seemed a good reason to gather my strength and make a plan.
So I am a bit more up to date with what goodies are on the way in the arts, though I realise I have already missed some. I am hoping SSGB which I saw being filmed in Greenwich at the end of 2015 will be on when I am in Northern Ireland next month and I get to watch it with Cousin. I have flicked through the cookery supplements and consigned them to the scrap heap. The recipes look delicious, but the long list of ingredients for each one makes me tired before I start. In last Saturday’s Guardian magazine I found several gems. Clive James very much on form, quite like the old days; a restaurant review containing the words ‘the food is to subtlety what Trump is to interior decoration, but the effect is blinding’.
Hadley Freeman’s page, which I confess I often skip, was pure gold. Read it here. It made me glad to know the other pieces by her I missed either because I was in Australia or I called time on the previous week’s newsprint are still available online. And glad for the Grauniad. With Rupe and Paul Dacre running most of the newspapers here and Rupe trying to get hold of everything Sky, independent journalism is a rare beast. Did you notice how Theresa May gave her interview on Sky, not the BBC? Speaks volumes. I at long last signed up to be a Guardian supporter last week. I have been receiving daily emails with links to the top stories for ages now, but only buying a paper once a week. Fortunately the advertising did not say that the cost of support was ‘less than the price of a cup of coffee’, a favourite comparison these days and total inaccuracy in my case as I make my coffee at home, one cup per day with breakfast, and I reckon it comes in at rather less than 10p.
I don’t know how much my internet connection works out at per day, but it’s been bloody today, skiving off like an adolescent from school. Fortunately I also pay for mobile access on the iPad to use at the boat, so that’s how come I’m here now. Not that I intend to go to das Boot anytime soon, it’s much too cold, though Celia and I are donning our boots and heading to the wilds of Surrey tomorrow. My thermals are all laid out ready for the morning. We should find a pub at lunchtime, but Celia and I have previous getting lost on walks, or the pubs on our route being closed, or not doing food any more, so I’m going to take a flask of soup with me and a handful of satsumas as well as spare socks, gloves and goodness knows what just in case there is no opportunity to thaw out. I’ll leave my current book, another by the wonderful Sarah Moss, Night Waking, at home.
MasterB’s belated journey into adolescence and his discovery of sex and lust continues. The yellow boa has been repeatedly bitten and is getting shorter and shorter. He has also taken a liking, though I am not sure that is the right word, to the scruffy jumper I tend to change into at this time of year when I get home. Whether he understands my left arm is in the jumper sleeve I do not know. I’ve long thought of this jumper as cat friendly, just not quite in this way.
I meant to enter the photo challenge last week, and the one the week before that. January is flying by. I haven’t even looked at today’s, but my little Olympus is on charge and maybe if I can bear to take my fingers out of my gloves tomorrow I’ll take a few pictures, and if TalkTalk has sorted whatever the problem is I may even download and post some.
However, now it’s time to add the tags and categories, think of a title, put this up and settle down to watch Graham Norton before I head for bed.