Even if Adele Geras hadn’t so carelessly asked me to write about what I got up to yesterday, I would have bored you with it. Truth is, I’m so tired I can’t think of other things. It was a day of culture and fun. Not that culture can’t be fun, but you know, the less “worthy” stuff.
I have seen the crack. The Tate Modern crack. It was quite good, and no, I can’t work out how they did it either. Took a sledgehammer to the floor? Funniest sight, of course, are all the visitors slowly walking along, staring down at the floor and even filming it with their mobiles.
I returned to the Cottesloe after an absence of nearly thirty years, to see Victoria Benedictsson’s The Enchantment. Very good. I do so like an unhappy ending. (No, I don’t, but it was good anyway.) As a teenager I was very taken with this Swedish author, who like her heroine committed suicide. I’ve done some detective work this morning and come to the conclusion the play is called Den Bergtagna in the original. One of the nice things with the National Theatre is that you don’t necessarily have one actor playing four different characters. And they are always good actors, even when their names mean nothing to me.
Too much culture can be, well, too much, so I moved swiftly on to some shopping. The Resident IT Consultant will be surprised to hear I didn’t buy any shoes. I bought cheese at Neal’s Yard to bribe Daughter with on my return home. This meant I had my own Three Men in a Boat moment on the train home. My bag stank. In the nicest possible way, naturally.
Dinner at the Masala Zone after only ten minutes of queueing to get in. I find it rather reassuring to have a new food establishment to eat in that is situated in my old haunt Cranks, in Marshall Street. I virtually lived at Cranks in the olden days. The Masala Zone offers not only really good Indian food, but some charming staff. Hadn’t the heart to tell the nice young man last night that it wasn’t my first Thali and no instructions were necessary.
I finished another Cathy Hopkins Zodiac Girl (Recipe for Rebellion), which was fun as usual. Though possibly Cathy needs to sort out her ideas of half term holidays and nit nurses. Or that could be a message to the editor; it’s your job not to have half term at the end of November. On the other hand, a book that has Gods all over the place could possibly be allowed to have school holidays at funny times, too. Correct me if I’m wrong, but whereas I’ve seen plenty of nits, I have never come across a nit nurse in this century.
Before falling asleep on the last train north I started another Sara Paretsky. And all the witch’s activities meant she completely missed the Doris Lessing announcement.