I am so gullible. Off we went to the first preview of The National Theatre’s Oedipus in a new translation by Frank McGuinness, and I was amazed to see it was completely sold out. So Greek drama still draws the crowds, I remarked. That was before I realised they’d snared Ralph Fiennes for the leading role. He was very good, too. Not one of those trumped up film actors trying to do theatre. This is a terrific, cathartic production; not to be missed. One word, ‘terrorist’ planted in the mouth of one of the chorus early on immediately gives it a contemporary spin. The chorus of men in modern suits adds to the relevance, as does the idea of a man whose power makes him lose the plot. Don’t miss it.

 

After we got home, we watched episode 2 of the BBC’s Tess of the D’Urbevilles. Maybe we were in the mood for the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, but that made two gut-wrenching stories in one night. Ah, fate. You never know what life is going to throw at you.

 

Next week I’m doing phone rehearsals for the next Disparate Housewives show in Petersfield, as there doesn’t seem to be a time for us to actually meet. This is partly my fault as I booked myself a ticket on Easyjet to go and spend a hedonistic four days in Nice with my friend Alex who has a flat there. I hope to return transformed, chilled and of course uncharacteristically chic.

 

The email has gone strangely quiet after the flurry of my pamphlet, the Magma editing and the Shuffle publication. Now all that is done, it’s mostly me and my poems getting back together.

 

I may not have a chance to update this blog next Sunday, but I’ll do it as soon as I can. A bientot, mes amis.