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A little tea, a little chat

I've been a compulsive reader, writer and theatre goer all my life. My book blog is here: http://alittleteaalittlechat.wordpress.com/ Mostly food at the moment but also knitting is here: http://cathyingeneva.wordpress.com/

Currently reading

Democracy Incorporated: Managed Democracy and the Specter of Inverted Totalitarianism
Sheldon S. Wolin
The Temptation of Saint Anthony
Gustave Flaubert
Nebula Award Stories 3
Harlan Ellison, Gary Wright, Samuel R. Delany, Michael Moorcock, Fritz Leiber, Roger Zelazny, J.G. Ballard, Anne McCaffrey
Cosmology and Controversy: The Historical Development of Two Theories of the Universe
Helge Kragh
Max Frisch
All My Sons - Arthur Miller, Christopher Bigsby

Update: 22 Nov

I'm listening to an interview with David Suchet just before he goes on to the stage to do this play. He talks about how to keep fresh and eager and new for every performance of a long-running play. I imagine, he says, that there will be just one person, just one who has never been to the theatre before and I play to that person. He wants to give the most wonderful experience to that person.

Oh David. If you only knew. I sat there watching you in this play a few months ago and sitting next to me was a 12 year old boy who had never been to the theatre before. Nearby was his 14 year old sister. James was engrossed throughout. Lou loved it too. You couldn't have been more inspirational or given these two kids a better introduction to theatre.

I wish you knew what a great gift you bestowed upon them.


I feel like I've had more of my fair share of a certain type of phone call, the one telling you somebody is dead. Twice over the last few years they've been a great shock, the closest of friends, one cooking, one vacuum cleaning, alive one moment, dead minutes later.

But today I've had the All My Sons experience and I can see already how it is worse. The police rang up earlier, enquiring after a missing person, when had I last talked to him. On Saturday evening, I said, a flurry of smses. They knew that, actually, because they had his mobile phone and that is how they contacted me.

The other person in his house had filed a missing persons report today. I'm guessing the same person he had a big fight with on Saturday evening. He told me he was going out to behave badly...aka get drunk, get laid was my interpretion. I begged him to come over, straight away, 4am, whenever, he knew he'd be totally welcome. It's horrible being beholden to somebody you are fighting with. He promised me he'd talk to me the next day. Since then I've smsed and emailed him and left a message on his mobile, rather pointless since it isn't with him. His passport was with his phone, so he hasn't gone far.

This is a grown man, the chances anything bad has happened to him aren't good. But, then, at some point in the evening he was a vulnerable, unhappy, drunk man.

I'm sure I'm not going to have to wait years to find out the ending, unlike the poor parents in the play. But still, I've been thinking the worst things. Not to mention just how angry I'm going to be with him when he turns out to be alright...which I'm sure is going to be the case. But still...

There is a good version of All My Sons on in London at the moment - well, it was on a month or so ago. You get to see David Suchet (who makes me weak at the knees) and a surprisingly good Zoe...the one from My Family. That inexplicably popular show where one can only regret that the fabulous Robert Lindsay doesn't move on to a show called Without My Family. Zoe is his dreadfully irritating wife. Suchet outweighed her in terms of whether I went, but she did a more than competent job as the wife. It's a great role as with the blindest of faith she waits for her son. I'm only at day one...and he's not my son, just a friend. But still...



He's back and I'm so cross with him, I can scarcely yell how cross. How dare he. How dare he make me a murder suspect. When the police first rang me and said I was the last known person to speak to him, I blurted out 'But it wasn't me, I didn't kill him, I have an alibi, I was - ' and I realised what I'd done. 'Oh no, officer, you want to know why I've mentioned an alibi. I mean no innocent person would think of having an alibi, and I don't even know when for, honestly, officer, I have no idea WHEN he was murdered....I mean you are going to arrest me now aren't you, precisely because I have an alibi. For whenever it was.' I ended lamely. The policeman let me panic until I'd run out of things to say. 'We are all suspects, ma'am,' he said gravely. I asked him if he meant that philosophically or literally. He said that was a very interesting question. Well, we got talking, and one way or another, he asked me out as soon as the case is officially closed and I'm no longer a suspect. I said couldn't it be like The Bill and he dates me especially because I'm a suspect. He said this was real life ma'am. Of course. Real life. What was I thinking.

And then there is this: http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/72532730