High culture and invertebrates where they shouldn't be

A good sleep, under heavy covers, which make you feel secure. Lorraine brought me a cup of tea in bed, and we got up to have a  lovely breakfast. Felt much rested after last night. Lots of chatting this morning, then off in John's car to Stratford. Many of the fields containing giant pond sized puddles, after recent flooding here, and the flowing water in the Avon and other streams we saw was high in the banks. They had been cut off in their village recently.

To Stratford, where we saw a play, called A Museum in Baghdad.  I am pleased we saw it. At best it was an ambitious meditation on time and identity with characters in two time frames on the same stage attempting to preserve Iraqi archeological treasures. But despite the performances being fine, it didn't really work for us. I felt the script needed a hard edit, and the play told you things rather then demonstrate them.  Like for example when one character says to another ‘You’re angry!’ by way of helpful exposition. Still it was a beautiful theatre, and we had fun. Experiences like this always make me feel like the Crane brothers, who liked nothing better than a good meal with a flaw in it they could dissect afterwards.

From there we went to Carluccios, and had a pleasant and enjoyable meal. The waitress came over to me afterwards: Did you like your meal? Me: Yes thanks, it was nice. Waitress (insulted): Just nice!?!

We walked back through the drizzle along the beautifully decorated for Christmas streets, and John drove us home. Then a relaxing evening by the fire, watching television and sipping wine. Among the TV was I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here, where various 'slebs' filled their mouths with repulsive insects, such as a stick insect poking out like a lively cigar, cockroaches, and Ian Wright, former England and Arsenal striker, had a tarantula abdomen in his mouth, with its legs palping about on his face, for an entire minute. Lorraine had long since retreated behind her book unable to watch any of it. The rest of us squirmed.

Lorraine very happy to be with her old mates, but at one point I slipped away to get a glass of water and I returned to find that she was reading aloud a section from her heartwarming book by Kate Clanchy, called Some Kids I Taught And What They Taught Me. Except the bit she was reading turned into an account of someone's head being blown off in a market place, which was a bit traumatic.

Lulled by tarantulas, fire and wine, we sloped off happily to bed.

Below inside the wonderful Swan Theatre. I forgot to take any proper photos, but I caught Sue and John unawares before the theatre had filled up,  and made Lorraine hold a little sign in Carluccios.









Comments