Stratford Upon RAVING

Yesterday James and I schlepped all the way to Stratford Upon Avon to attend a preview of the RSC's new production of Hamlet. Whilst the play in question is, in fact, one of my favourite Shakespeare plays, I am fully prepared to admit that the main draw for this particular performance was the fact that the lead role was being played by tousled TV pin-up David Tennant.

Wasn't all that impressed by Stratford itself. It seems to have all the outward trappings of a town with a rich cultural and historical heritage, but sorely lacks any depth or passion for the literature that it so desperately sells, and sells, and sells... I witnessed tourists having their photos taken outside mock-Tudor pubs, in a street that was consumed by a fire a number of years after Shakespeare's death. HE. DID. NOT. GO. THERE.












Tennant was an outstanding Hamlet, so good that I almost felt ashamed for initially being drawn to the theatre by the lure of his pretty, pretty face. He delivered those tricky soliloquys with fresh gusto, and commanded the space that he occupied. Similarly, Patrick Stewart was a fantastic Claudius, but an even more terrifying Ghost! Wasn't too sure exactly when the play was supposed to be set, but this is just nitpicking really. This 'review' is utterly useless to anybody considering queuing for a return ticket, so better check the press after tomorrow for the official verdict.

"Excuse me, can I ask you a question about your hair?"

What is it with London and the chirpy twats that it's salons employ to try and drum up business? And why do they all use that same line?

After a lovely afternoon at Crouch End Lido I decided to stop off at the shops on my way home and buy something for tea. I was pushing my bike past Tesco and found myself accosted by a twenty-something emo boy, who asked the question above. He had two mates beside him (who weren't emo at all) who were all doing the same thing. I, being wise to this ploy, said 'no thanks' and continued on my way. I got my shopping, forgot all about it, and went back to my bike. Emo Boy tried again. I declined, again. As I fiddled with the chain the other two noticed that I was rendered temporarily immobile, approached me and said 'while you're here, can we ask you a question about your hair?'.

By now I was feeling quite pestered and intimidated (three lads, one me) so turned around and said 'Look, guys, I am sorry that you have to ask people that transparent question to try and sell haircuts in order to make money, but you've asked me it 4 times now and I am clearly not interested. Can you leave me alone, please?'

To be fair to him, Emo Boy looked a bit ashamed and helped me by picking up my padlock, which I'd dropped whilst afluster. The other two did a very childish 'ooooh sorreeeeee!'. Gits. I thought my response was relatively polite considering how pushy and irritating they were. If I want a haircut I will not be talked into it by a stranger in the street.

One I can handle. Two, at a push, I can ignore. But three in a gang is too much. Right? Or did I overreact?

The little 'p' means I PASSED!

2007/8	SEM1	MR01P.0	Block Practice	PROV	H	30	--	P
2007/8	SEM2	MR05P.0	Block Practice Sem B		H	30	--			P
2007/8	YEAR	TEP066N	Reflective Portfolio: Theory and Practice in Subject Learning		M	20	--			P
2007/8	YEAR	TEP067N	Curriculum Practice Research		M	20	--			P
2007/8	YEAR	TEP068N	Educational Issues: Theory and Practice Investigation		M	20	--			P

Eating Coco Pops at 4am can only mean one thing...

... that I am entering a manic phase.

At least I can use the 'Free Swim' voucher on the back of the pack to burn off some of the excess energy.

Or I could just go shopping.

The cattie

We've had a kitten now for nearly three weeks, we're moving to a much bigger flat in July and will be able to accommodate a cat and a rabbit. When I went to choose the kitten it was all tiny and pathetic and looked like this:
















Awwww...

... but that was before he started to grow at a ridiculous rate and draw blood chasing my ankles. And then I found out that it was a boy, not a girl, despite us having called it 'Polly'.















This is what he looks like now. Notice the slightly evil glint in his eyes, which he has diverted attention away from by acting all cute.















But it was very funny when he fell in the bath.

He's not that bad, really. All injuries occur through misdirected play, but they don't half hurt!

Eating like a King

I just ate a superior lunch consisting of chicken salad, chilli cheese, chorizo and a rosemary sourdough bread roll. This is not usual lunchtime fayre. I usually have some Knorr Super Chicken Noodle soup and a chunk of bread. But curiosity finally got the better of me today and sent me to Whole Foods on Kensington High Street; the hype worked it's subliminal magic on me. Thinking I'd perhaps pick up a loaf and a piece of cheese at most I took a small basket, and, twenty minutes later, found myself at the till, laden with goods and forking out £28.













This is the sort of person you see in Whole Foods. They are mostly hippy parents with too much money buying sugar-free cereals for their evil, posh children.















But this is the AMAZING cheese counter that acted as the catalyst for my spree and NOW you understand how it happened.

I really must stop shopping at any food stores that are not my local grocer, my local butcher, my local baker, or Tesco. Because whenever I do I ALWAYS end up spending over £20 on less than one basket of food. I could get a whole trolley of food at Tesco for that!

So, from tomorrow James and I are on wartime rations for the next few days while our cat and rabbit continue to eat their (large) stock of luxury veterinary-recommended pet foods. They have a much better life than us. They eat and sleep all day, and get us to take their shit away for them.

Bastards.

I think I may have just watched the best episode of BBC London ever.

Among all the usual bollocks about the mayoral election was a feature about a guy who roams around London in a full Alien costume just to amuse people. This guy does it for love and charity, and because it makes him and other people laugh, which I think is a fucking ace reason. It directly mimicks a dream I have always had of hiring a Chewbacca costume and performing my day-to-day duties whilst wearing it. In fact, it is better than my dream, because the Alien is perhaps one of the most amusing movie villains, when placed in a regular setting (like the tube or the bookies).

Anyway, all this writing is counterproductive, because you only need to look at the picture to appreciate how excellent it is. So don't let me waste any more of your precious time.