After a full week's break from any theater, I went to the National to catch a Eugene O'Neill play, Strange Interlude. I don't really know how Nahid and I sat through all three and a half hours of it: it was a strange combination of watching the train wreck to its bitter end plus the feeling that we needed to get the most possible out of the £25 we'd spent on tickets. I suppose we did, but it was a wretched play. Tonight I'm off to see Chimerica at the Almeida and then Friday a Chekov at the Arcola followed by another Chekov Saturday at the Richmond theater. Somehow I suspect that, as far as coming back to theater after a break, this week will not make me sorry for what I have missed.