This is the End, beautiful friend....
Tuesday, 6 May 2003 00:52![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apollaAfter my last, feverish rant, I thought I should return and be calm. After all, lots has happened to me since last we met.
On Friday, as I'm sure you all know, I handed in my dissertation. Having said that, I think that there are tribes of people deep in the Amazon as yet untouched by western civilisation that knew when my dissertation was due in. Aside from the fiver it cost to print, it cost me another tenner to get the three copies bound. But it did look very cool and the spiral binding was, coincidentally, the deep green I imagine Harry Potter's eyes to be. Weird.
I was then given the luxury of an hour and a half's sleep before going to Manchester to see Animal Farm done as a play. Natasha's ex-guy, who is a successful theatre guy and such, directed it in a place just outside Oldham. It took an hour on the train to get to Manc, where we traipsed around the shops for a bit, idly on the lookout for David Beckham or rich footballers, before hopping on the tram (A tram! First time I've been on one that's just transport rather than a ride somewhere! That I can remember anyway!) and then having to get another train to this place, Stow on something where the play was. We got there so early that we ended up standing around in the rain before the doors opened. It was such a stereotypical Northern derelict surburb- where even the party stuff shop has heavy-duty shutters, there's an entire terrace of abandoned houses and bored teens fuck about on the high street.
The play, on the other hand, was fantastic. Mal's very political, I guess, when it comes to his plays, and there was some fantastic use of slides. Very Brechtian, man. And the destruction of the windmill was equated with 9/11, which could have been terrible, but was really well done. The cast was made of kids between 15-24, but they were great. Stand out performance has to be 'Cow', a wonderfully camp performance by a kid called Dean, whose udders were represented by an inflated pink rubber glove. He was like John Inman, Kenneth Williams and Larry Grayson put together.
Except later. Because of our links to Mal, we stayed afterwards in the bar for the after-show, it being the last show in the run. These kids, who we'd come away with nothing but respect for, turned into another bunch of noisy, drunken Northern kids. I understand their elation- I've been there, man. But the drinking bit made it that much worse. The whole after-show bit went so badly wrong, mostly thanks to one loud-mouthed twat who decided to wreck the skits a couple of the others had come up with. Finally the producer James, got totally pissed off and almost dragged them offstage. Then Mal came on. Bear in mind, he's the spit of Jon Bon Jovi and is himself a fantastic musician. His hair bears an uncanny resemblance to a Charlies Angels-Farrah do, but it grows that way apparently.... Anyway, they started yelling to him to sing Living on a Prayer, which narked Tash off, because he has to deal with the Bon Jovi thing all the time. All credit to him- he played it just the same.
Then after some present giving and schmoozing we finally got to leave. The last train was long gone (Last train at 21:50, are they having a laugh?) so we ended up having to crash at Mal's. Bearing in mind, I had only had the 1 1/2 or so sleep that afternoon since about Tuesday, so my brain was totally wrecked. Then up at eight to get the train home. When we finally got home, I was told we were going out that evening to The Sugarhouse (student union-run club in town) and that I needed to buy a ticket. Did so. Got to sleep at Midday Sunday. Hurrah. Woke up at 7pm, just in time to get ready to go out. When we finally were out, though, Tash and me were faaaaaarr too tired to enjoy ourselves (and I hate the kind of dance music they play at the Sugarhouse on a Saturday anyway.) So we came all the way back to campus and watched Never Mind the Buzzcocks in her room till 3.30 because she had to stay up for when her bloke came home from working at another club at 4.
And that's about it. My brain is still wrecked from all that writing.
OH! I have just received word that the twelfth and final chapter of Harry Potter and the Daoimear de Dan is up at the Yahoogroup I share with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
brianyoon, gryffinseye and bookworm713 and at Schnoogle. So it's either here or if you prefer, here. I'd love for you all to read it and let me know what you think. Thanks, y'all!
Oh, and by the way, Nightfall's new chapter of AF is real good.
Until next time....
On Friday, as I'm sure you all know, I handed in my dissertation. Having said that, I think that there are tribes of people deep in the Amazon as yet untouched by western civilisation that knew when my dissertation was due in. Aside from the fiver it cost to print, it cost me another tenner to get the three copies bound. But it did look very cool and the spiral binding was, coincidentally, the deep green I imagine Harry Potter's eyes to be. Weird.
I was then given the luxury of an hour and a half's sleep before going to Manchester to see Animal Farm done as a play. Natasha's ex-guy, who is a successful theatre guy and such, directed it in a place just outside Oldham. It took an hour on the train to get to Manc, where we traipsed around the shops for a bit, idly on the lookout for David Beckham or rich footballers, before hopping on the tram (A tram! First time I've been on one that's just transport rather than a ride somewhere! That I can remember anyway!) and then having to get another train to this place, Stow on something where the play was. We got there so early that we ended up standing around in the rain before the doors opened. It was such a stereotypical Northern derelict surburb- where even the party stuff shop has heavy-duty shutters, there's an entire terrace of abandoned houses and bored teens fuck about on the high street.
The play, on the other hand, was fantastic. Mal's very political, I guess, when it comes to his plays, and there was some fantastic use of slides. Very Brechtian, man. And the destruction of the windmill was equated with 9/11, which could have been terrible, but was really well done. The cast was made of kids between 15-24, but they were great. Stand out performance has to be 'Cow', a wonderfully camp performance by a kid called Dean, whose udders were represented by an inflated pink rubber glove. He was like John Inman, Kenneth Williams and Larry Grayson put together.
Except later. Because of our links to Mal, we stayed afterwards in the bar for the after-show, it being the last show in the run. These kids, who we'd come away with nothing but respect for, turned into another bunch of noisy, drunken Northern kids. I understand their elation- I've been there, man. But the drinking bit made it that much worse. The whole after-show bit went so badly wrong, mostly thanks to one loud-mouthed twat who decided to wreck the skits a couple of the others had come up with. Finally the producer James, got totally pissed off and almost dragged them offstage. Then Mal came on. Bear in mind, he's the spit of Jon Bon Jovi and is himself a fantastic musician. His hair bears an uncanny resemblance to a Charlies Angels-Farrah do, but it grows that way apparently.... Anyway, they started yelling to him to sing Living on a Prayer, which narked Tash off, because he has to deal with the Bon Jovi thing all the time. All credit to him- he played it just the same.
Then after some present giving and schmoozing we finally got to leave. The last train was long gone (Last train at 21:50, are they having a laugh?) so we ended up having to crash at Mal's. Bearing in mind, I had only had the 1 1/2 or so sleep that afternoon since about Tuesday, so my brain was totally wrecked. Then up at eight to get the train home. When we finally got home, I was told we were going out that evening to The Sugarhouse (student union-run club in town) and that I needed to buy a ticket. Did so. Got to sleep at Midday Sunday. Hurrah. Woke up at 7pm, just in time to get ready to go out. When we finally were out, though, Tash and me were faaaaaarr too tired to enjoy ourselves (and I hate the kind of dance music they play at the Sugarhouse on a Saturday anyway.) So we came all the way back to campus and watched Never Mind the Buzzcocks in her room till 3.30 because she had to stay up for when her bloke came home from working at another club at 4.
And that's about it. My brain is still wrecked from all that writing.
OH! I have just received word that the twelfth and final chapter of Harry Potter and the Daoimear de Dan is up at the Yahoogroup I share with
brianyoon, gryffinseye and bookworm713 and at Schnoogle. So it's either here or if you prefer, here. I'd love for you all to read it and let me know what you think. Thanks, y'all!Oh, and by the way, Nightfall's new chapter of AF is real good.
Until next time....
