In which this week has demonstrated the necessity of hattitude
- Everyone who passes through this door brings happiness. Some by entering, some by leaving. [/sign outside pub door]
- Proof I wear the best hats....
Random white teenage boy on street: Can I try on your hat?
spiralsheep: No.
wmctbos (whining): It's just a fucking hat.
spiralsheep (walking away): No, it's an excellent fucking hat.
- It was at this point I realised I've become a character from one of the western art history posts by Mallory "toast" Ortberg, lol....
A public building security guard (walking up behind me): Excuse me!
spiralsheep: What?
Security guard: I called you several times!
spiralsheep: I didn't hear you... because of my hat.
(He claimed I'd set off some sort of electronic security device but when I obligingly followed him back through then nothing happened. So.)
- Reading, books 2016, 106.
85. The Real Inspector Hound, by Tom Stoppard, 1968-1970, is a play that plays with the conventions of plays: clever and mildly amusing. [/Stoppard's entire career reviewed in four words] (3.5/5)
• Who hasn't had this reaction at some point: "MRS. DRUDGE (fear and dismay): Essex!"
• Who hasn't answered the phone this way: "Hello, the drawing room of Lady Muldoon's country residence one morning in early spring? ... Hello! - the draw - Who? Who did you wish to speak to? I'm afraid there is no one of that name here, this all very mysterious and I'm sure it's leading up to something, I hope nothing is amiss for we, that is Lady Muldoon and her houseguests, are here cut off from the world, including Magnus, the wheel-chair-ridden half-brother of the ladyship's husband Lord Albert Muldoon who ten tears ago went for a walk on the cliff and was never seen again - and all alone for they had no children." (No, rly, I actually have answered the phone with the first sentence.)
• Worst fantasy dinner party guest list ever: "Kafka, Sartre, Shakespeare, St. Paul, Beckett, Birkett, Pirandello, Dante and Dorothy L. Sayers".
86. A Piece of My Mind, by Peter Nichols, 1987, is a bitterly farcical play with some good one-liners, and an abundance of stage business (which might make it a difficult read for anyone not accustomed to visualising play scripts), but not much emotional or intellectual substance. I read it because the character of Nancy Fraser, the play agent, is yet another theatrical recension of Peggy Ramsay. (3/5 warning for sexism)
• Last line for the first act: " 'Laughing always comes to crying?' Not bad. It's like what happens in my plays after the interval."
• On the contents of a children's comic: "Oh great! They've put Doctor Who instead of Jesus." [A phenomenon with which viewers of new Who are all too familiar, lol.]
This entry was originally posted at http://spiralsheep.dreamwidth.org/587495.html and has
comments Please comment there using OpenID.
- Proof I wear the best hats....
Random white teenage boy on street: Can I try on your hat?
spiralsheep: No.
wmctbos (whining): It's just a fucking hat.
spiralsheep (walking away): No, it's an excellent fucking hat.
- It was at this point I realised I've become a character from one of the western art history posts by Mallory "toast" Ortberg, lol....
A public building security guard (walking up behind me): Excuse me!
spiralsheep: What?
Security guard: I called you several times!
spiralsheep: I didn't hear you... because of my hat.
(He claimed I'd set off some sort of electronic security device but when I obligingly followed him back through then nothing happened. So.)
- Reading, books 2016, 106.
85. The Real Inspector Hound, by Tom Stoppard, 1968-1970, is a play that plays with the conventions of plays: clever and mildly amusing. [/Stoppard's entire career reviewed in four words] (3.5/5)
• Who hasn't had this reaction at some point: "MRS. DRUDGE (fear and dismay): Essex!"
• Who hasn't answered the phone this way: "Hello, the drawing room of Lady Muldoon's country residence one morning in early spring? ... Hello! - the draw - Who? Who did you wish to speak to? I'm afraid there is no one of that name here, this all very mysterious and I'm sure it's leading up to something, I hope nothing is amiss for we, that is Lady Muldoon and her houseguests, are here cut off from the world, including Magnus, the wheel-chair-ridden half-brother of the ladyship's husband Lord Albert Muldoon who ten tears ago went for a walk on the cliff and was never seen again - and all alone for they had no children." (No, rly, I actually have answered the phone with the first sentence.)
• Worst fantasy dinner party guest list ever: "Kafka, Sartre, Shakespeare, St. Paul, Beckett, Birkett, Pirandello, Dante and Dorothy L. Sayers".
86. A Piece of My Mind, by Peter Nichols, 1987, is a bitterly farcical play with some good one-liners, and an abundance of stage business (which might make it a difficult read for anyone not accustomed to visualising play scripts), but not much emotional or intellectual substance. I read it because the character of Nancy Fraser, the play agent, is yet another theatrical recension of Peggy Ramsay. (3/5 warning for sexism)
• Last line for the first act: " 'Laughing always comes to crying?' Not bad. It's like what happens in my plays after the interval."
• On the contents of a children's comic: "Oh great! They've put Doctor Who instead of Jesus." [A phenomenon with which viewers of new Who are all too familiar, lol.]
This entry was originally posted at http://spiralsheep.dreamwidth.org/587495.html and has
comments Please comment there using OpenID.