July 16th, 2010

boyfriends

the wearing of the purple

I know you want to know: the coat passed. Just passed, mind, but it still passed. Hell, I even got a couple of smiles, though, to be honest, the friendliest people were, and are always, the STC staff who, unlike the gatekeepers over at the Opera House, always go way out of their way to look after the token westie subscriber and make her feel welcome. And you know what? I need it and appreciate it because it's very scary to go to these places where everyone else makes more in an hour than I make in a year. Seriously out of my league, but at least the staff don't scowl imperiously, which is something. More than something. I couldn't bear it if they did. Well done STC, and your bettering of this working class peasant, at least.

So anyway, went to see some proper American theatre, starring no less a personage than William Hurt. I've never been a huge fan but back in the day when friends from school and uni used to try dragging me kicking and screaming to art films, he was the art film go to boy of choice, and I'd always dismissed the possibility of ever seeing the man on stage, existing in a parochical backwater as I am.
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