...Think, Think, Think...

Review - Kurt and Sid

I love going to the theatre.  But its a conditional love. I love going to the theatre if the venue is right.

Yesterday, I went to Trafalgar Studios to catch the matinee of Kurt and Sid, starring Danny Dyer and Shaun Evans.

The Trafalgar Studios used to be the old Whitehall theatre but have been split into two.  I can only speak for studio 2, but its a fabulous space.  Its a very intimate setting, only seating 100 and you feel as though you're in the thick of it.  The actors are literally right in front of you, not elevated on a stage.  They're close enough that you can see everything - every out of place hair, if they spit when they talk, the lot.

I'd love to say my intentions for seeing the play were honourable.  That I wanted to see the story (which I'll get to in a bit).  I can't, in good faith, say that.  I wanted to see Danny Dyer up close.  Fangirl-ish of my I know.  I wasn't the only one there with that attitude mind, and I can at least say I wasn't naive enough to dress like I was out on the razz in case Mr Dyer noticed me in the crowd and whisked me off to a hotel.  Sadly, a few young ladies there took that tack.

Onto the play.  The story is actually a pretty good one if you're a music fan.  Its set in 1994 just before Kurt Cobain kills himself.  He's sitting there, shotgun in mouth when lo and behold, Sid Vicious walks in. Thus follows about an hour and a half of their conversation.  Their experience and perception of fame, the drugs, the women, their wives, even their homelands. 

I'd never really seen anything Shaun Evans had been in, but I was mightily impressed with his portrayal of Cobain.  The picture above doesn't make him look anything like Kurt Cobain, but the press shots were obviously taken a while ago as his hair is longer and has been dyed that perfect grunge-bleach-blonde.  He looked the part and managed to channel that sense of melancholy that seemed to ooze from his pores.  You really did feel that he was dead inside. That life and fame and the burdens he put apon himself had leeched out every bit of life from him. 

As Sid Vicious, Danny Dyer was pretty good.  I can only say pretty good because what I'm absolutely aching for is to see him do something where he isn't cockney.  That's not to say that I think he's a bad actor - I don't at all - but he's definitely typecast and I'd like to see someone take a chance on him doing something else, He has done Pinter in the past (as in WITH Pinter, not just in a play written by him) so I'm sure he's got some acting chops.  None of this should take away from the part he played though. The swastika t-shirt, studded cuffs, leather jacket and spiked hair were right on the money, although part of me would have expected some safety pins stuck through skin somewhere.  I wasn't much familiar with Sid Vicious but he played him with perfect british-nihilistic-sarcastic humour, but with a warmth to it which surprised me.

It could easily have been a very depressing play, on the surface its "dead guy tries to stop suicidaly guy from killing himself and fails" but that wasn't the case at all.  The dialogue between the two characters was very funny, much as you'd expect to see between two people so similar but from different places and times.

My only criticism was that for the type of play it was I'd hoped for some slightly more intense interaction.  I found the second act to be a bit slower than the first and I think that in the dialogue there was the promise of things being a little more heated between the two.  Overall, I really enjoyed it and was pleased to have seen it.  I love stories which focus on the people and anything dialogue heavy always floats my boat (possibly explaining my love for Kevin Smith and Woody Allen films) and this is exactly that.  The cherry on the cake for me was that the venue was so small.  You're literally in that attic with them.  If you were in the front row and put your legs forward you'd have been in their way!

I was born in 1982 and so I was much too late for punk and just a teeny bit young for grunge, but I've picked up on both in recent years and certainly feel that the characters tied in with my perceptions.  I also learned a few things too.  I hadn't realised that Vicious was 21 when he died, nor did I know Cobain was 27.  My age, which got me thinking a bit.  He'd been a megastar, a husband, a father and got to the point where he felt it was all pointless in such a short time.  Its tragic.

If you're interested in seeing it, its on until 3rd October.

http://www.kurtandsid.com/

This is what breakfast looks like for me when I know today will be a really shitty day..

Friday Night Shopping

Dear Waitrose,

I thought I'd write you a little note just to let you know that I do, in fact, adore shopping with you.  Of all the supermarkets you are my favourite for many reasons, the primary of which is the fact that as you slightly overprice your products the calibre of person in store is usually much better. 

Call me a snob if you will, but if I have been at work all day and want to get something nice for my dinner, I do not want to contend with screaming toddlers and their oblivious parents.  I want to wander, quietly browsing until I find something yummy.  I then would like to pay without much of a wait and make my way home.

This evening, all was well until I got to the checkout.  Here's what I bought:

• Computer Active Magazine x 1
• Look magazine x 1
• Ciabatta Rolls x 1 pack of 4
• Deli Style Charlotte Potato Salad x1
• Coleslaw x 1
• Birds Eye Simply Salmon in Lemon/Herb butter x1
• Nestle Mint Aero x 1
• Jacques Fruit Cider x1

The young lady serving me and my father (who is well over 60, I should add) was under 18 and so had to ask a grown up if she could serve me the cider.

So we waited.  She pushed her little buzzer and waited for the lady in the barbour-style green jacket (seemingly this indicates some sort of seniority) to come over.  We waited a bit more.  And a bit more.  Probably only three or four minutes in total, but that is too long really.

Eventually, barbour-jacket comes over, types a little code into the till and looks me up and down.

Now, I will admit, I do try to take good care of my face.  The rest of my body, not so much.  I don't like the gym but do very much like alcohol/cheeseburgers/vast quantities of pasta/chocolate etc.

The policy in the majority of shops is that if you look under 21, they will ask you for ID.

Barbour-jacket's eyesight is so bad that the face below apparently looks under 21:

 

Note the lack of makeup, the bags under eyes, the smile lines (aquired mostly through years cynical/derisive laughter).  This is the face of someone who works in an office and at the moment doesn't enjoy it much.  This is not the face of an underage drinker looking to get wrecked.

I ask you, Waitrose, do you think that underage drinkers go to your stores with their dad on a friday night and buy ciabatta and salmon to go with their posh fruit cider?  Really Waitrose?  Really?  We're hardly talking fish and chips and abottle of white lightning are we?

Many people may find it flattering.  For me, it does just seem ridiculous.  I may be a little hard on myself but I am quite sure that I do not look under 21.  At the moment I'm amazed that I pass for under 41.

I do understand that you have laws and rules to follow, however I can't help but think you may be better off having the people enforcing those rules able to read without the use of brail and navigate their way around the store without the assistance of a guide dog or a white stick. 

Otherwise, thank you for a lovely shopping experience.

Best Regards

Beth

Handy Hints For Getting On My Nerves

Wait until I go into the kitchen to cook dinner and then come in and stand in front of cupboards I need to get to.  Maybe start doing some washing up when you can see I'm just about to drain pasta.  Better yet, do all that and hum off key.  Or maybe, sing the same line of a song over and over and over.  Still off key mind you.  This is especially helpful when I'm trying to prepare something complicated from scratch.

Wait until you can see I am 75% done in preparing my meal for the evening before suggesting that Dad go and get a takeaway.  I understand how stressful it must be cooking for two whole nights a week.  I mean, I do it 7 nights a week, but I'm obviously superhuman and wouldn't want to have a night off anyway.

Watch me spill something in the kitchen because the fury of your off key singing has overwhelmed me.  Then patronisingly ask me if I want you to clear it up.

Hear me get back from shopping and watch through the window as I trawl through my bag looking for my keys, once I've found them let me struggle with the shopping until I'm in the kitchen.  Then ask me if I need any help.

Bring washing upstairs and just hang things on the door of the wardrobe.  Obviously, the walk up the stairs has drained all of your energy to the point that you can't open the door and put things inside.

If there is washing that doesn't go on a hanger, don't put it in the chest of drawers where the clothes live.  Balance it precariously on the end of my bed.  

On the rare occasions I tell you somethng personal about myself, share it with your work colleagues.  I especially like it when you do this.  Its nice to have someone say "I hear you got an abnormal result on your smear test last week."  I love knowing that your co-workers know all about my reproductive health.

And if you really want to go for gold, whenever I get home ask me if it was busy.  It doesn't matter where I've been.  The shops, out with friends, blockbuster, the doctors.  Wherever.  Its important that you know if it was busy while I was there.  Particularly as you're not even using the information to make a judgement on whether you'll go yourself.

"But can't THEY hear it too?"

A few doors down from us, there is a family with two young children.

All day, every day, one of these children alternates between shrieking (you know, that kind of shrieking that goes right through you) and crying.

My dad, who is off work at the moment and is home all day, has been subject to this all week while he's been sorting out the back garden. He's a fairly patient sort of bloke, but these kids have really tested his patience.

You see, the parents don't seem to do much about this screeching.  God knows if we can hear it, they must hear it louder?  Why would you ignore it?  Why live like that? 

I'm not a massively maternal person.  I like children when they say terribly profound things, or when they inadvertently embarass their parents - for example the story my therapist told me about the little boy in the supermarket with his parents who, after being told he couldn't have chocolate, announced to his mother and all the shoppers in the vicinity; "If you don't let me have a Mars bar I'll tell Grandma that I saw you licking Daddy's willy".

Badly behaved children are a problem for me.  In restaurants, or shops - but especially when I've been at work all day and I want to chill in my back garden with a glass of wine and talk to the cat that isn't ours (more on her another time).

Yesterday, Dad was pushed to the point that he ended up yelling "Would you just SHUT THOSE KIDS UP".  Shortly thereafter he saw both children being put into their carseats and taken out for the afternoon, leaving him with a bit of peace to do what he was doing.

I've just got back from having my hair done and they're back at it again.

Is it wrong that I'm considering giving social services a quick call, just saying how concerned I am about all the screaming?

I mean, it may just be a phase (my friend Su's little ones went through the same thing, albeit on a lesser scale I think) but what if it isn't and I have to put up with it for the rest of the summer they're actually hurting the children?

And you guys still stop by?

I've just been looking back through my archives.

Mostly because I'm going to give the link here to someone that doesn't already have it and I wanted to make sure I hadn't said something like "That Terry, what a muppet!" Of course I wouldn't have (because he isn't!), but it never hurts to make sure there isn't anything dodgy.  I generally don't give the blog details to people in my real life if that makes sense - its sort of my own space to vent.  I'm pretty easily found, but they'd have to search.

Realy though, how much whining about my life do I do?  If we were to search the phrase "unhappy" in this blog, I reckon it'd come up in every single post.  Closely followed by "stressed".  With "fuck" and its derivatives coming it in third place, but not for any fun reasons.

I know they say that you shouldn't apologise for what you write about, its bad blog etiquette.  But really, I'm sorry for that and I'm pleased that in spite of it there are some of you who still come by and read/comment - so thank you for that!

I'll try harder to be less of a moany cow in upcoming posts, promise.

A confession, a song and a quiz

So...I'm pleased to say that none of you immediately guessed my guilty pleasure from the list below (although one of my work colleagues looked through the DVDs when I was returning them and she got it right off the bat).  It's Danny Dyer.  I've never been one for a bit of rough, tending to prefer my men better dressed but emotionally unavailable.  Oh, hold on. The last bit wasn't a preference, just an unfortunate coincidence.  Still, I think he's pretty hot.

The song I couldn't remember but felt akin to was Every Day is Exactly The Same by Nine Inch Nails, which since its use in the film Wanted has probably become the theme song of every scorned office worker secretly wishing they could be an assassin. And even the ones that dont.  It pushes the buttons that 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton couldn't.

Roses over at Journeying posted one of those MeMe quizes and although I don't make a habit of doing these, I thought I'd do this one.  One day I may re-do the 100 things about me post that I used to have on here in another lifetime, but at the moment thats a lot of things to write down!

1. First thing you wash in the shower?
My hair, that way I can wash the conditioner residue off when I wash the rest of my body, thus reducing the risk of backne, which is not hot.

2. What color is your favorite hoodie?
I don't own a hoodie.

3. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?
Oh hell yes.

4. Do you plan outfits?
Sometimes.  I have to look presentable for work, so I try to match things.

5. How are you feeling RIGHT now?
A bit disappointed that its Sunday already, but looking forward to going out in a little while.

6. Whats the closest thing to you that's red?
The handle on some Smashbox makeup brushes.

7. Tell me about the last dream you remember having?
I was in a restaurant with my dad.  I don't remember what we ate.

8. Did you meet anybody new today?
Its only 10:17am at this point, but I doubt I will.

9. What are you craving right now?
A substantial lottery win.  No seriously, a milkshake from ShakeAway would be good.

10. Do you floss?
Sometimes.  I'm on a bit of a tooth whitening kick at the moment, so I'll probably start again.

11. What comes to mind when I say cabbage?
Shredded, coleslaw.

12. Are you emotional?
Yeah, probably too much.

13. Have you ever counted to 1,000?
At school probably.  I usually get as far as 15, maybe 20 and then blow my stack.

14. Do you bite into your ice cream or just lick it?
I lick, sensitive teeth and all that.

15. Do you like your hair?
Love it.  I'll love it more when my roots get sorted out next weekend.

16. Do you like yourself?
Yeah.  I think in spite of spending lots of time wondering how the fuck I got where I am and pondering the futility of life, I'm pretty cool.

17. Would you go out to eat with George W. Bush?
Is he paying? Might be worth a laugh.  If nothing else it'd be a good blog post.  And for once, I'd know more about politics than the other person at the table.

18.What are you listening to right now?
Drowning (Face Down) by Saving Abel.  Awesome song, awesome band. I urge you to listen.

19. Are your parents strict?
Not overly so, but I knew my boundaries and was never so stupid to cross them.

20. Would you go sky diving?
Never say never, but I strongly doubt it. 

21. Do you like cottage cheese?
No.  Its baby sick.  But I understand its potential for those on a diet.  If its all you can have and its so disgusting you can't bring yourself to eat it, it makes it much easier to consume fewer calories.

23. Do you rent movies often?
I go through phases.  I may not rent anything for a couple of months, then rent 5 films each weekend for a month.

24. Is there anything sparkly in the room you're in?
I'm in my bedroom, so yes.  Nearest to me is the handle of an Agent Provocateur Riding Crop which was bought on a (rather expensive) whim - it has a green diamante encrusted handle.  Other than that, tons of costume jewellery.

25. How many countries have you visited?
Six.  Which is pitiful.

26. Have you made a prank phone call?
No, been on the receiving end of one though.

27. Ever been on a train?
Of course.

28. Brown or white eggs?
Whatever is in the box.

29. Do you have a cellphone?
I have a Sony Ericsson C902, which I love.  But I want, want, want an iPhone.

30. Do you use chap stick?
Amongst many other lip balms, yes.

32. Can you use chop sticks?
I can, but I usually don't.

33. Who are you going to be with tonight?
Either my friends or my thoughts.  Depends what time I get home.

34. Are you too forgiving?
I probably am.  There are a lot of people, particularly in my past, that I should tell to fuck right off.  I don't, because I don't really want to cause too much bad feeling.

35. Ever been in love?
I've been in love a few times.  The rub was that the objects of my affection didn't reciprocate.

36. What is your best friend(s) doing tomorrow?
Looking for a job.

37. Ever have cream puffs?
Yes.  Not my favourite, but I've had them.

38. Last time you cried?
About a week ago.  In the car on the way to a meeting with a colleague and out of sheer frustration at something that happened the day before.  Poor sod, didn't know where to look.  He just said "Pretty blondes in nice cars aren't meant to be crying.  They'll think its my fault".  He's hilarious sometimes.

39. What was the last question you were asked?
"Is 11:30am okay?"  And it is.

40. Favorite time of the year?
Winter - because of Christmas and the associated fairy lights.

41. Do you have any tattoos?
Just the one.

42. Are you sarcastic?
Yes.

43. Have you ever seen The Butterfly Effect?
No.  Didn't fancy it.

44. Ever walked into a wall?
Only metaphorically.  I did literally walk into a tree one day last year, cue mild concussion.
 
45. Favorite color?
Teal.

46. Have you ever slapped someone?
Yes and he deserved it.  It probably wasn't hard enough either.

47. Is your hair curly?
Not without some help.  Its poker straight.

48. What was the last CD you bought?
Scars and Souvenirs by Theory of a Deadman.  If you like Nickelback, you'll like these guys.  Awesome, good old fashioned Rock n Roll.

49. Do looks matter?
Yes.  I think pride in your appearance is a big thing.

50. Could you ever forgive a cheater?
I think its all a context thing, but yeah, I could.

51. Is your phone bill sky high?
No, I get lots of inclusive minutes.

52. Do you like your life right now?
Its okay.  Some areas could be better but I can't change them right now.

53. Do you sleep with the TV on?
Most nights I do.  I sometimes remember to set the sleep timer but more often than not I forget.

54. Can you handle the truth?
Yep.

55. Do you have good vision?
Its not perfect, but its okay.

56. Do you hate or dislike more than 3 people?
I can think of two people that pushed me to that point when they were around me.  They aren't anymore so I'm just indifferent.

57. How often do you talk on the phone?
In my personal life, at least once but all day long for work.

58. The last person you held hands with?
What about them?

59. What are you wearing?
A t-shirt and shorts.  I'm not dressed yet. Which is a bit of an issue given that its 10:40am.  I'm going out at 11:30am.

60.What is your favorite animal?
I know that Alexandr the meerkat isn't real, but I love him.
 
61. Where was your default picture taken at?
My bathroom!

62. Can you hula hoop?
I could when I was a kid.

63. Do you have a job?
Yes.

64. What was the most recent thing you bought?
I bought all sorts yesterday.  Dry Shampoo, Shower Gel, various foodstuffs.

65. Have you ever crawled through a window?
Yeah, I think so.

66. When was the last time you've been to church?
A funeral last May.  I wish it had been in different circumstances.

67. What's your least favorite meal?
I really don't like Cottage Pie.

68. Did you ever steal anything by mistake?
No.

69. Have you ever won anything?
£85 on the lottery a couple of weeks back, which was a nice surprise.

Patterns and guilty pleasures

I'm the type of person who is always looking to relate one thing to another.  Its one of my many little idiosyncracies.  I look for patterns and relationships between things.  Might be a neurotic thing, I'm not sure.

I had a particularly bad day on Wednesday for a number of reasons and on my walk home from the office I found myself feeling more and more like the lyrics to whatever I was listening to related to my exact situation.  Obviously if that was really the case I'd be able to remember which song it was, but just 3 days later its totally gone from my brain.

Last night, I found myself wondering whether other people do it it too.  For example the people in Blockbuster, do they look for patterns or links in the movies people rent?

With a slight wave of embarassment, I considered the possibility that the man serving me could tell from my returns and rentals what my current guilty pleasure is:

Last weeks' rentals:

• No Country for Old Men
• Two Days in Paris
• The All Together
• The Business

This weeks' rentals:

• Human Traffic
• Good Luck Chuck
• Severance
• The Football Factory
• Outlaw

Can you figure it out? 

New Digs

I've been blogging for a while now.

Years, in one form or another. Livejournal, blogger, then here.

I decided that it was about time that I had my own domain name.

So I got one.  You can now reach the blog by going to www.bethblogs.com.

I've also finally made a start on my beauty blog too, which can be found at www.bethblogs.com/beauty  or just by clicking the link under the header - if you're interested that is!

Do you have Christmas in France? CHRIIIISTMAAAAS?

I don't get to see much of my extended family.  I live with my parents but their siblings all live quite a way away.  In the case of most of my mother's family I'm pleased about it as the crazy/evil/bitter might be catching and I don't need any of that.

In the case of my dad's family though, I wish I saw them more often.  They're all lovely people that you can talk to and have a laugh with and on the occasions we do get together its always fun to catch up.

Recently one of my uncles was over from Norway.  He lives out there with his wife, who's Norwegian herself.  She's a real sweetie, not to mention extremely intelligent and, as is the case with most people "on the continent", she speaks very good english.  They were over as he had some work business to attend to and so I guess they were trying to make a little holiday of it.  Part of that was to spend a bit of time with us one evening.

I'll spare you the story about my dad and I busting our arses to clean the house while mother did nothing more than expand hers.  The house was clean by the time they got here and I'd managed to have one little dig at my mother's laziness in the process (good times!).

After a quick coffee at our house, its decided that we'll go out to eat and we settle on a curry.  I was in full swing of my diet at that point and I'm sure chicken korma did me no favours, but who cares.

It panned out that in the restaurant, the three of us ladies were on one side of the table and the gents were on the other side.  Unfortunately for her, my uncles wife was between my mother and I and that meant no escape.

My old mother isn't all that great in social situations.  She seems to think she is, but she tends to come across as patronising, overbearing, condescending. Just plain irritating and during the meal - in fact during the whole evening - conversations such as the following one took place:

My mother (in raised voice to my aunt, who is happily enjoying her meal): IS THAT NICE?

My aunt: Yes, its lovely.  Really spicy.  We had a curry in London recently, but it wasn't as spicy as this one.

My Mother: DO YOU HAVE CURRY IN NORWAY?

My aunt (hiding her confusion): Yes, we do...

I was dumbstruck. In situations similar to this one that I've witnessed with other people I've been able to say something like "Yes, Adam knows what a trade union is.  He's 33." but this time I just couldn't find the words.  The total embarassment had eaten them up.  Probably with a smattering of mint raita on the side.

This woman, this extremely intelligent woman, who speaks english fluently even down to the use of colloquialisms, is being spoken to in the manner sterotypically adopted by an English person speaking to a foreigner.  That good old english notion that if you're abroad and don't speak the language, just shout in english and they'll understand.

Except that it wasn't necessary; she did understand.  She's Norwegian, not martian.  They have pretty much the same stuff in Norway they have here.  We've been there, we saw.

I doubt they'll be rushing back to visit again soon...