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| The sweet spot, baby! |
We're in the sweet spot right now. Or at least I am. Tbf, it's a highly personalised sweet spot that can't possibly apply to everyone. Basically, we're post-Winter, with whole days that are rain-free, but the annual joy of the hay fever season (insert sarcastic side-eye here) hasn't yet kicked in. The beauty of that means I get to enjoy a beer garden or two. My most recent one was a German Kraft place that had excellent beers, big outdoor tables, and on a day with perfectly temperate, non-sweaty sunshine. It won't be long before such outdoor pursuits will be accompanied by my sneezy, snotty, irritated head. But for now? It's lovely!
My first book, Carry the Beautiful, owes a healthy debt of gratitude to Willy Russell's Shirley Valentine. I realised that, once I'd got to the end of the first draft. A bored woman living a humdrum life gets the courage to make an escape. Tilda Willoughby might not make it to Greece, and her emotional journey goes via a different route, but there are parallels. Until last week I'd only ever seen the 1989 film. The one where Pauline Collins talks to the wall, has a shocker of a fella in Bernard Hill, and runs off to Greece with Alison Streadman. But then I saw Sheridan Smith's Shirley Valentine at the Duke of York theatre in the West End. The one woman show where Smith, alone on stage for two hours, recounts her exploits and voices every character. It was sublime. As well as nailing the nuances of a South Liverpool accent, she had the audience in the palm of her hand. It was an excellent reminder that words on a page can be elevated - times a million - when performed brilliantly. Anyway, back to Writing News. I'm still editing. It was just lovely to be reminded of the subconscious inspo for my first novel.
Culture
I've blown my main cultural news in the previous paragraph. Soz about that, like. But as well as some actual theatre, yesterday I saw the NT Live performance of Good at the Odeon. Last year, David Tennant blew me away when I saw him play John Halder, the 'good' German professor as he descends into fascism. It was excellent to rewatch, albeit from a Warrington cinema seat. Finally, in less high-brow but perfectly compelling loveliness, I binged Colin From Accounts. Twice. The title makes it sound like a workplace sitcom but it's not. It's a sweet, funny romance (with none of the saccharine-schmaltz that that sentence implies). It's on BBC iPlayer now.
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| Droooooll |
Stop Press! I've finally done it. I've found the best Spanish tortilla in Christendom. As usual my inferior photography skills don't do it justice, but here it is in all its glory. Thank you, Brindisa, for your efforts. I could eat that everyday for the rest of my life.
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| Hey babes. |
In my brief sojourn to the big smoke, I had a special pilgrimage to make. Since my last visit, London has only gone and opened its first Sephora. I know! Hurrah! Woohoo!... pardon? What's Sephora? Wow. OK. Well, let me see. Sephora is a makeup and cosmetic shop that stocks all the cool brands and makes me embody the phrase 'like a kid in a toy shop' the second I walk through the door. (That rush doesn't happen in any other beauty shop. Sorry Boots.) Stick your tourist sight seeing - when I'm abroad the first thing I do is Google the nearest Sephora. Anyway, back to the point. I made the trek to Westfield Shepherd's Bush and gorged myself silly on shiny, powdery, glittery stuff. It's the little things. (Not so little at the cash till. Sigh.)
Back to reality now. No more frivolous shopping, beer gardens, or lovely theatre for me. There's editing to be done, and the bedroom refurb's still in progress. (Tomorrow, the skip arrives!) But still. While the sweet spot is here, it's good to recognise it. To recognise it, appreciate it, and enjoy it. What's that phrase? Don't forget to stop and smell the flowers? I won't be literally doing that what with the pollen and shit, but it's a decent metaphor I guess.
Have a lovely week, folks.
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