The Guardian’s Theatre critic Michael Billington sets out Michael ‘Two Rivers’ Boyd’s plans for the future of the Royal Shakespeare Theatre. Apparently lots of cold showers and heady intellectual exercises are on the cards for the present wimpy acting ensemble as ‘Two Rivers’ attempts to return to the good old days of the Jam Factory. In other words, less Corporation more Claustrophobic, no that can’t be right. Less Corporation more like the Co-op er…no. Um. Ah. Less Corporation more Corpulence, No. It's on the tip of me tongue. Got it…less Corporation more Company.
All well and good Boydy my old son but you’re forgetting one vital ingredient if you really want to return to the time when the Royal Shakespeare was held in awe worldwide. Booze mate. Booze and lots of it.
Friday, February 06, 2009
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Beware the Frog People
This probably won’t be remotely interesting to anyone so I'm sorry but I have to speak out as its been driving me mad for years now. Please bear with me. And thank you for reading this far.
I’ve got a really rubbish pond in my garden. At first glance the whole environment appears dead. Indeed, I once spent a gut-heaving hour or two picking dead (and strangely transparent) amphibians from its murky depths. At the moment it lies half-full (or half empty depending on your point of view) and has bits of the decaying pond liner floating around in it. One wouldn’t think that anything could survive in its toxic waters but one would be wrong.
In happier days past, the pond looked pretty good and even had two huge goldfish (escapees from the Mop) floating stylishly around in it. Suffice to say Marx & Lenin are no longer with us. Marx going to the Great Heron in the sky and Lenin…sorry I find it hard to talk about Lenin…my favourite…give me a moment…Lenin just disappeared. The truth is I suspect Max my three-legged cat.
Anyway.
Since the demise of my beloved mop-fish I’ve been meaning to fill the pond in. Every spring I reach for my trusty yet under-used shovel, make my way up the garden towards water-world and every year it’s the same story. Frog spawn. Tons of the horrible gooey stuff. Unfortunately, being of a kind nature I cannot bring myself to bury the little buggers alive, so, trying to push visions of a yard full of bouncing frogs in a month or so’s time to the back of my mind, I retreat once again, a beaten man.
This year and determined to beat the slimy substance at its own game i.e. surprise, I moved into action a few weeks ahead of my usual schedule. Walking out implement in hand and determined to do the dirty deed no matter what, I approached the pond…and there it was floating on the surface of the dark depths. Frog spawn. Curses, foiled again.
The thing is…it wasn’t there the day before.
However they (the frog world) do it, they do it very quickly and I suspect with the one sole purpose of annoying me.
I think there’s a plot.
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According to The Guardian.... Today's Life section P 9.
...there's a mental condition called Hypergraphia which apart from being a brilliant name for a blog (remember you read it here first) is the rare compulsion to keep writing.
'Imagine living with the compulsive need to scrawl away constantly, scribbling on notebooks, napkins, walls, even skin'
Imagine? I don't have to imagine. And I thought I was in the early stages of Blogitus.
I’ve got a really rubbish pond in my garden. At first glance the whole environment appears dead. Indeed, I once spent a gut-heaving hour or two picking dead (and strangely transparent) amphibians from its murky depths. At the moment it lies half-full (or half empty depending on your point of view) and has bits of the decaying pond liner floating around in it. One wouldn’t think that anything could survive in its toxic waters but one would be wrong.
In happier days past, the pond looked pretty good and even had two huge goldfish (escapees from the Mop) floating stylishly around in it. Suffice to say Marx & Lenin are no longer with us. Marx going to the Great Heron in the sky and Lenin…sorry I find it hard to talk about Lenin…my favourite…give me a moment…Lenin just disappeared. The truth is I suspect Max my three-legged cat.
Anyway.
Since the demise of my beloved mop-fish I’ve been meaning to fill the pond in. Every spring I reach for my trusty yet under-used shovel, make my way up the garden towards water-world and every year it’s the same story. Frog spawn. Tons of the horrible gooey stuff. Unfortunately, being of a kind nature I cannot bring myself to bury the little buggers alive, so, trying to push visions of a yard full of bouncing frogs in a month or so’s time to the back of my mind, I retreat once again, a beaten man.
This year and determined to beat the slimy substance at its own game i.e. surprise, I moved into action a few weeks ahead of my usual schedule. Walking out implement in hand and determined to do the dirty deed no matter what, I approached the pond…and there it was floating on the surface of the dark depths. Frog spawn. Curses, foiled again.
The thing is…it wasn’t there the day before.
However they (the frog world) do it, they do it very quickly and I suspect with the one sole purpose of annoying me.
I think there’s a plot.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
According to The Guardian.... Today's Life section P 9.
...there's a mental condition called Hypergraphia which apart from being a brilliant name for a blog (remember you read it here first) is the rare compulsion to keep writing.
'Imagine living with the compulsive need to scrawl away constantly, scribbling on notebooks, napkins, walls, even skin'
Imagine? I don't have to imagine. And I thought I was in the early stages of Blogitus.
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