Tumbleweeding at Shakespeare & Co.


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I’ve been thinking, it’s high time I went back to the Saturday Tidbits – as promised by the blackboard here on the left… so, here we go: a Saturday Tidbit.

Did you that know you can go to Paris and stay for free at Shakespeare and Company, the famous Rive Gauche bookshop, in exchange for a few hours of work and reading? Continue reading


Mucho Ruido in Mexico


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So, I was at the Globe for Matthew Dunster’s “Mexican” production of Much Ado About Nothing,and loved it.

Let’s begin with the time-travel quality of just entering the place, climbing up the wooden stairs (we opted for the gallery benches – with cushions), watching from above the groundlings standing in the pit… Oh, the thrill of it!

And then the play itself: lively, colourful, full of song and music, with touches of that kind of melancholy, angry lust for love and life that goes with wartime – given that the setting is the Mexican Revolution… Continue reading

Acting Again…


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So… I’ve gone back to acting.

Well, not really. It’s not that I’m going to take up acting again. Rather, I’ve acted again after… what, twenty years? It goes like this: as a teenager I decided that I wanted to be an actress, and began to take drama classes when I was sixteen. I happened to find a very, very good teacher – one who had the patience to draw me out and drill me hard. With rather good results, if I say so myself. I worked hard at it for four or five years, thinking that I’d go on with it, and go professional… Continue reading

The Real Sea and I


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For some reason, my family and friends seem to believe that my health would greatly benefit from sea air. This translates in endless cajoling/pushing to go to the sea, followed by berating because I didn’t go, and then we start again.

And mostly I don’t go, because… well. You see, in theory, I love the sea.

I love to read nautical fiction, love seaside towns and cities, love the sight of a tall ship, love sea storms, love the scent of salt in the wind, love nautical museums, love the notion of writing weeks by the sea… Continue reading

What Amateur Historians are made of


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Oh dear: the Amateur Local Historian is back. He of the portable river. The man who could not see why he should support his theories – and was soundly trounced for it by the real historians. He is back. Or perhaps not quite back?

The fact is, the man called me – a sufficient cause for alarm in itself, seeing that he hadn’t really sought contact since the Moving River Massacre. He called, and told me that perhaps, maybe, perchance, he might be sort of kind of writing another book. Continue reading