And yet, it happened. Even the tale of me being elbow deep in suitcase contents (ie dirty washing) on the couch at the hotel on my way out and young Cumberbatch wafts by. I didn't realise he'd vanished into the hotel bar, must have been lurking in my favourite dark corner, oh if only I'd decided to go that Earl grey tea I desperately wanted instead of trying to ram foolish last minute purchases into the big blue bag of doom. You know I still had the welt on my hand from where I'd slammed down the lid, with my hand still inside (as I did but see him passing by), three days later when I finally wobbled onto home soil. Nevertheless, young Cumberbatch has seen my nana knickers, whether he wanted to or not (and I'm thinking not).
Back home, not so much fun, especially having to move office again. I know, at least I survived yet another game of musical chairs, but still. I'd say I'm going to miss this window, but yesterday a currawong decided to eat a large mouse/small rat on the window sill, so...not as much as I was going to miss it on Monday.
Anyways, still keeping up with British Theatre with the travelling NT production of One Man, Two Guvnors last night. I think I amount to a groupie when I can just about recite it by heart (it was just over a year ago that I saw it in NY). The travelling cast were very good, especially Owain Arthur, adding a decidedly Welsh flavour to the proceedings, and Edward Bennett, whom I have now seen at least four times on stage, which is silly, he of the penguin paperback in the Cafe Nero at Stratford that time. Now he's doing British farce, and wonderfully so. It's all very broad, but for someone who raised on that sort of stuff, pleasingly comfort foody, if you know what I mean.
Also, I was with Francis on his quest for a bit of tucker, as the salad I'd ordered for tea was the worst salad it's ever been my misfortune, and there have been some doozies, but it was vile, completely vile, so I was peckish. Ended up with toast and tea at home. Ah, well. Comfort food.
Ah, the parrots just stopped by to give me a bit of stick over being out last night. Well, yes. Come next week and I won't be here to cuss at through the window (it might be closed but cockatoos can scold like a fishwife, I got the gist of it, my bad). I pity the fool who sits here next week - grin.
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