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Be vewwy vewwy quiet. I'm hunting wabbits.

At work there's a release this week. This has kept me fairly busy. I wound up not going to Pilates.

In addition to the spider plant I grew off of an ambitious scrap I stole from somewhere in the office, I now have a little vase containing a violet I found in the front yard of some apartment building in Putney, a crocus someone kicked out of the ground in Red Lion Square, and a snippet of a prayer plant I liberated from the office decor. I think I'll try to dry the violet; I'd never seen them growing wild before. With luck the prayer plant will decide it likes its new home and put down roots - then I can pot it and it will really flourish.

The West End Whingers' review of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert has me drooling, but because it's at the Palace (where I saw most of Spamalot - the view most hindered from the balcony), I'm not buying tickets. Pay £60-£90 or miss half the show? It seems like blackmail. I can only find semi-cheap tickets away from the Ambassadors, at places like WhatsOnStage and LastMinute. Meanwhile Madame de Sade and Dido, Queen of Carthage are being skewered; thankfully, I've only got tickets for one of them (and they're returnable). Perhaps I should be looking at The 1959 Broadway Songbook, available for £15, and the Stovepipe walkabout show the National's running. In fact, that show takes place on Sundays; I'm going to book tickets.

Tonight I'm off to see the Maltese Falcon. If only it were the Malteser Falcon. If that were the case, tell me, how would you build a film noir centering on a bird statue made of malted milk chocolate balls?


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Mar. 19th, 2009 06:07 pm (UTC)
how would you build a film noir centering on a bird statue made of malted milk chocolate balls?

Well, it would have a built-in element of time pressure, as it would have to be stolen/returned/found before a) it had melted and b) it had been eaten.

Mar. 19th, 2009 06:19 pm (UTC)
The stuff that dreams are made of...
I was gonna say that Kasper Gutman holds the Falcon at the end of the film and, despite the advertising slogan, it melts in his hand.
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )


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