He's changed man. But not too much.

While I've been pootling around the interweb searching for extra-strong boot laces and stuff, Through The Keyhole was on the telly. (For those who don't know, or who have repressed, celebreties are shown other celebreties' houses and have to guess... You get the idea.) It is, of course, presented by Sir David Frost.

What struck me was that, yesterday I saw Frost-Nixon at the Donmar Warehouse, and it reminded me that Frost was not always the comfortable, daytime TV slightly muted personality that we see today.

When my dad talks about Frost he refers to The Day Today. What I'd completely forgotten was that he also got The Definitive Interview with Richard Nixon, making television history.

When people look back on the career of our Frost, I can't help feeling that they will consider Through the Keyhole to be something of an anti-climax.

But, in the meantime, if you can get to see it, Frost-Nixon is well worth seeing, with Frank Langella (who most will now know as Perry White, but I'll always think of as Skeletor) as Nixon and Michael Sheen *sigh* as Frost.

By all the Gods!

I just typed up a whole blog, and Blogger went weird and ate it. I hate whem that happens. Nevertheless, true soldier that I am I shall do it again. It won't be exactly the same, but I shall get the gist of it down, hopefully. I believe I started with some hyperboly by crying,

ODIN'S BEARD! I hadn't meant to leave it nearly three weeks before blogging. Life's minutiae really will get in the way of everything if you let it. And it has been minutiae. Only a few things of merit since I got back from Scotland and recovered from festival whiplash. Chief among them:

- Sullen co-worker quit, making my life a lot easier.
- Got very drunk at a friend's birthdaytwo weeks ago, got alcohol poisoning and had to take the next day off work, resulting in a serious telling off.
- Went to the Slimelight on Saturday and didn't have to be carried out, which is a first.

As for the future, my main causes for happiness are two impending visits back to Clevedon. On 30th my dad and I are off to see the Scarlets v Harlequins in Llanelli. On 24th, I'm just visiting home to see family and friends. First time seeing my family all together in what feels like a very long time, but is really only about two months. I shall also see Good Friend Who Is A Director [Billy and I must come up with better names for our mutual friends] for the first time since he announced his engagement. Since getting engaged there has been a marked decrease in double- (and single-) entendres. I don't know that I approve of this new piety.

My other happy thought is the short film I intend to direct over the course of the next couple of months. It'll be based on a poem by Charled Bukowski called The Idiot. If anyone happens to have that text I'd be very grateful, as the volume of poetry in which it's contained (Last Night of the Earth Poems) costs £15 and I don't want to pay that when I'm only after the one poem. I did try photographing the relevant pages but the camera in my phone isn't up to the task.

Other Housemate's Ex pointed out that Bukowski himself would probably approve if I were to simply steal the book. Deputy Boss suggested that I work better when not in prison. Though I don't know; I've never tried working in a prison, maybe my work would be better. And I've always felt I'm letting the side down in never having been arrested.

Until next time...


-I accept nothing from a man who imprisons his guests in a commode.

I turn around for a minute and...

Well, it turns out that this blog appeared in the end. However, I originally thought it had been lost forever and so re-typed it under the heading of By All The Gods, which you can see above. I don't trust technology, although it does allow me to do things like edit this at a later date and confuse everyone...

Back from Scotland and still suffering a little

So, back in London.

I've had two nights since being back without drinking. I think it's been good for me, has that. And I thought, since I'm sober and back in London I'd post about the last month. There was rather a lot of it, so I'm afraid it's just the highlights.

First off, it should always be remembered that to find jewels at Edinburgh you have a see a fair bit of shite. And, the line-up this year, it must be said, was not all that inspiring. However, I can recommend without hesitation that anyone who geets the opportunity should go and see Dusty Limits in his cabaret act or the Freaks in a Box in whatever it is they describe their show as. The latter had me laughing so hard it physically hurt.

My Name is Rachel Corrie should also be seen by as many people as possible. On the off chance the production doesn;t have enough superlatives already, it was simply devastating. I was sitting there in tears by the end, and that has only happened one other time in a decade of working in theatre.

Beyond that, this festival was not perfect. For one thing, despite the hopes described in my last post, it turned out that the Scotsman had taken against our company before seeing our shows. Not a mention of the acting or production for Crime and Punishment. They criticised our gall in attempting to adapt it at all, which I suppose is a valid opinion, but it was very clearly a decision made before seeing the show. The report was similar regarding the other shows we had their. I think they considered us guilty of hubris for attempting so much. Valid, again, but I expected better journalism of Scotland's national newspaper than to send out reporters with minds made up in advance. And, in more than one instance, reporters who printed inaccuracies which also speaks of a lack of professionalism.

The verdict was far, far better from audiences, including the lovely Hannah who is as charming in life as she is online. There is something about the festival that somehow brings all of the good stuff to the fore and all the crap fades into the background. After an awful lot of problems with C Venues, who I shall not be working with again, quite a few of us have said we probably won't be back next year. But the festival's like that. Someone will make an offer in February and the glow of the festival will mean that I'll probably wind up saying yes.

And, happy birthday to Billy, who's actual birthday I missed due to festival shenanigans.