The view from here

So, Lucy phones me up and asks why I have not responded to her text. She invariably has to text me to get me to check my emails, I had forgotten to check both! She phoned to ask if I wanted to go and see the new Alan Bennett play Habit of Art, currently on at the National. I felt like I was having a bit of a deja vu moment since she had asked me a couple of months back and I had received an email with the date she had bought tickets for. She could not remember the conversation or email, but having checked her 'sent items' box she had to admit that "yes" she had indeed already booked the tickets and "yes" she had quite frankly lost the plot. I had to promise under sufferance that I would not gloat about this rather insouciant loss of memory to Mother, since we tease Mother remorselessly about her shocking ability to remember a single word we say.

Lucy then informs me that our errant father had tracked her down via her Facebook page. This was not good news, we have had no contact with him for 7 years since he disgraced himself in more ways that one. She was pissed off but I felt quietly smug that since I did not posses a Facebook account I was safe. In true panto style it was "Oh no you're not" I do not know how, but he infiltrated my flickr account. I felt sick, miserable, pissed off and totally violated. I then stupidly checked his profile, only to discover he is back not just in England but London. Obviously with his new wife who he met in China who clearly married him for his charm, wit and youthful good looks, absolutely NOT for his British citizenship, since he is over seventy and she is in her early thirties and looks younger. Wrong, wrong and very wrong. Judgemental moi ? Absofuckinglutely.
Nothing like pissing on my parade of sanity. Lucy is toying with therapy I will try to push the elephant in the kitchen to a small dark place and pray he buggers off.


Another late night working saw me yet again here

I was struck by an almost Edward Hopperesque feel to the station this late at night, although even Hopper would be hard pushed to winkle out any hint of romance from this hideous dump.
Friday saw me glued to the computer writing an essay about Othello! yes Kitty's homework.

Wills crime of passion

Self fulfilling prophecy

of affable oaf

Sadly I was not able to submit a haiku so had to write 1000+ words instead, but I think I nailed it with the haiku. I had neither read the play or even seen the play, so had to research it from scratch which alongside teaching took up my entire day.

I then met Daisy for a bite to eat washed down with a delicious Prosecco before watching the amazingly brilliant production of An Inspector Calls it is as good as they say and has just transferred to Wyndhams. We were upgraded so lost our favourite seats, better view but felt a bit hemmed in. A women in front kept making the weirdest noises as she fell asleep. On the way out someone remarked it was like sitting in front of Chewbacca, which set me off for the rest of the night.

As if that wasn't enough entertainment I went Saturday lunchtime with little sis to see The Priory on at The Royal Court. We ate downstairs in the cafe again but this time our food was sadly mediocre and a bit of a rip off, especially when they charged my sister for asking for more bread!
The play too was a tad lack lustre. First half was fine, the second half a bit flat, Like a toothless Alan Ayckbourn.

Next stop York!