All the things I do instead of writing…
Last week was quite the bonanza of activity. I have yet to write my thoughts on Monday's meeting with friends from college, but I certainly will. It connects to Macbeth. Everything connects to the themes in Macbeth, which this production was very keen to emphasise. They might as well have slapped an IDF badge on... Continue Reading →
Today was not really the day I wanted to see almost three hours of Ibsen. The children had been a bit fussy all day; nothing unusual, just crying at inopportune moments, the older one getting upset about me going out, the little one wanting more of my milk in the middle of M&S, and then... Continue Reading →
It's Christmas Day, and I have eaten too much. I should really be reading the book my sister gave me, but I can't quite get past the preface of Frank Dikötter's "Mao's Great Famine". I'm a bit too full (ooh the irony) for such a stunningly well researched and well-written account of the tragedy of ideology.... Continue Reading →
The resting writer 