Saturday, 4 August 2012

Maybe rather than making this a blog about theatre...

I can simply make it a litany of theatre related mishaps, that works for me. So anyway, I was in the Donmar Warehouse the other day, and at the interval Josie Rourke, its extremely talented artistic director, said 'hello' to me. I know exactly who she is and what she looks like, but we've never spoken before and while I assume she probably vaguely knows my name, I doubt she knows my face, and was presumably saying 'hello' to me out of politeness/because I was having a drink in the press area. The previous paragraph is essentially a word for word representation of the monologue going through my head as I stared blankly at her for about five seconds, wondering if we HAD met before, prior to my finally mustering a weirdly hostile sounding 'hello', which I knew sounded hostile because a fellow critic asked me if me and Josie Rourke had had some sort of previous falling out. I always think of myself as being quite normal and well adjusted compared to most of my peers, but I'm starting to wonder if possibly I'm not a shamblingly awkward oddball of some sort. Five minutes after leaving the play - WHICH WAS VERY GOOD AND I GAVE FOUR STARS TO, potential future bitter lunatics (see last post) - I realised I'd left my food shopping of a reduced price loaf of bread and a reduced price spicy bean pate in a plastic Waitrose bag and had to apologetically shove through the after party to get it. I don't think Josie Rourke saw me, fortunately.

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