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Went to see The Caucasian Chalk Circle last week; a new translation, but it still kept bringing back memories of when I was in it. It was excellent. Well staged, about 12 actor/singers, with intelligent doubling- one guy played all the would-be rapists and one all the bureaucrats and so on- and a large chorus. One of the people I went with had seen a lot of Brecht and was slightly baffled that it has a happy ending, also, this group did the music quite melodically and didn't do much in the way of audience-startling like flashing the script up on projectors; she felt it was a bit un-Brechtian to have a nice evening out. It's more difficult these days, of course- just the back-and-forth switching of frame story, acting, narrating etc was shocking in the 30s but is pretty routine today. But it's an interesting one. Given that the author was all about forcing the audience to see a play as a fictional construct and not sink in to the experience, and the polemic was the most important thing, to what extent should you still be trying to do that 70 years later? (Bloody hell. 70 years. How come it still feels modern??)

Also there was a MancAfpMeet on Saturday, which was a lot of fun. We seemed to spend quite a bit of time talking about slash for how few women were thre, but there you go. (I was in a food stupor for most of it as I'd eaten practically my own bodyweight in congee for lunch- you know the sort of Mr Creosote/3pm on Christmas Day feeling? But it was amusing listening.)
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Scary quantities of flist to read this morning. (Two chapters of The Quality Of Mercy! Internet, you spoil me.) Would be v. nice to LJ at weekends too; this calls for a} a house, b} a computer, c} broadband, preferrably.
a} is looking promising, but of course when I get it there may be a certain amount of being sidetracked into getting inessentials like chairs, bookshelves, bed, that sort of tosh, before I can afford b} or c}.

Manchester afpmeet/[profile] hashafpmeet on Saturday was fun, although I spent a large proportion of it sending out waves of dullness. You know when you listen to yourself and just go "Self, that was the most boring thing anyone has ever said, shut up now?" Maybe you don't. Maybe it's just me, and now the world knows my tragic character flaw. [1] Maybe this is a boring thing to be talking about... anyway, re-met a couple of people and met many others, watched a lot of people playing pool, ate chocolate, listened-in on much geekery, had to leave early due to rubbishness of trains, was not murdered with axe (despite the pub having a borrowable Viking helmet behind the bar. You knew it was a Viking helmet by the horns, of course.)

Still finding that the walk to work in the morning cheers me up. Very odd. Fresh air must contribute to release of endorphins or something. Or it could be the lack of hordes of tourists getting in. My. WAY!!!, as found in the Great Wen.

Torchwood, spoilers )

[1] As tragic character flaws go, I guess it could be worse. The punishment for hubris tends to be the gods cursing you to madness and death. For dullness, I might be fated to become a librarian or something...

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