Groggy afternoon
It’s funny how a song I don’t particularly like, and whose lyrics I can’t hear or follow, can suddenly feel so appropriate for the moment without any explanation.
I have a backlog of books I’ve been meaning to write something about. The library keeps sending me emails saying they’re due back in a few days, and I can no longer renew them. Several have already gone back but I made some notes about them—passages I liked, particularly poignant themes, that sort of thing—so one of these days I’ll write a review or reaction. There’s also a pile of chocolate bar wrappers that I want to make notes on. (Sneak preview: Ghirardelli Intense Dark tastes like purple, and is one of my top three favourites now.)
For today, for those interested, the play I described two weeks ago turned out to be Romanoff and Juliet, by Peter Ustinov. It’s a comedic clash between East and West (cold war style) in a fictitious country of Europe:
You will find us only onthe very best atlases, because we are the smallest country left in Europe—and when I say country, I don’t mean principality or grand duchy. I don’t mean a haven for gambing or income tax evasion—I mean self-respecting country which deserves, and sometimes achieves, a colour of its own on the map—usually a dyspeptic mint green, which misses the outline of the frontier by a fraction of an inch, so that one can almost hear the printer saying damn.
– The General, Act I
Unfortunately, complimentary to the mediocre song that suddenly sounds perfect, this favourite play of mine didn’t quite live up to its memory. I suppose that’s to be expected—one’s tastes change. We see things where there was nothing before, and we see nothing where we once thought there was something.
April 12th, 2007 at 06:52
And WHO found out the name of your precious play?
April 12th, 2007 at 11:59
You did, Meg, you did!
But it’s probably better if we don’t say how you happened to “remember” ;)