26 February 2006
There seems to be some sort of a Sondheim revival going on. Sunday in the Park with George is transferring to a proper theatre, Assassins is opening in Sheffield and Pacific Overtures at the Leicester Haymarket. Guess we'll be seeing a lot of the middle of England.
The Curse of the Were Rabbit was very funny. There were a lot more filmic references than there were in the other Wallace and Gromit movies. Gromit is very sweet but I don't know why he hangs around with Wallace.
My dance teacher at the gym is away on holiday and we all miss him. The replacement is some kind of a semi-jazz, semi-contemporary teacher but is trying to do street funk and his choreography is a tad naff. It's a good technique class though so shan't complain. Apparently, the teacher is in some programme called Pay Off Your Mortgage in Two Years and teaching is one of his making money schemes. Can't imagine it would do much to pay off his mortgage - not with what our gym pays. Anyway, the BBC may be coming to film next week's class. Not sure that that's a good thing.
Yesterday was blueberry pancakes with maple syrup and a side of bacon for brunch and leftover pad thai, chilli and salt pork choplettes and stir fried broccoli for dinner. And lots of grapes throughout.
London was heaving with tourists yesterday. I hate people. At the cash dispenser some blumming French tourists queuing behind me kept bumping into me and talking loudly. Do they not know that cash dispenser ettiquette demands that they stand a good distance away from the person at the till? Also, it's freezing, snowing and windy in London at the moment. Winter is our only respite from hordes of meandering, stupid, loitering about at all major pedestrian crossroads/through ways, pavement hogging tourists - so what are they all doing here in these Arctic conditions? Sheesh. Obviously London is not expensive enough, the public transport is not crappy enough, the service is not grudging and non-existent enough and the hotels are not rundown, grubby and overpriced enough.
The Curse of the Were Rabbit was very funny. There were a lot more filmic references than there were in the other Wallace and Gromit movies. Gromit is very sweet but I don't know why he hangs around with Wallace.
My dance teacher at the gym is away on holiday and we all miss him. The replacement is some kind of a semi-jazz, semi-contemporary teacher but is trying to do street funk and his choreography is a tad naff. It's a good technique class though so shan't complain. Apparently, the teacher is in some programme called Pay Off Your Mortgage in Two Years and teaching is one of his making money schemes. Can't imagine it would do much to pay off his mortgage - not with what our gym pays. Anyway, the BBC may be coming to film next week's class. Not sure that that's a good thing.
Yesterday was blueberry pancakes with maple syrup and a side of bacon for brunch and leftover pad thai, chilli and salt pork choplettes and stir fried broccoli for dinner. And lots of grapes throughout.
London was heaving with tourists yesterday. I hate people. At the cash dispenser some blumming French tourists queuing behind me kept bumping into me and talking loudly. Do they not know that cash dispenser ettiquette demands that they stand a good distance away from the person at the till? Also, it's freezing, snowing and windy in London at the moment. Winter is our only respite from hordes of meandering, stupid, loitering about at all major pedestrian crossroads/through ways, pavement hogging tourists - so what are they all doing here in these Arctic conditions? Sheesh. Obviously London is not expensive enough, the public transport is not crappy enough, the service is not grudging and non-existent enough and the hotels are not rundown, grubby and overpriced enough.
Labels: dance, films, food, gym, London, theatre
# posted by gilamonster : 08:43
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"We're simple folk! We live for our vegetables!"
It's all a question of different cultural norms. Philipinas have no sense of personal space at all, as far as I can tell. Italian also will not stop approaching until they have you pressed up against the wall.
You live in a great city. Stop complaining about it.
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It's all a question of different cultural norms. Philipinas have no sense of personal space at all, as far as I can tell. Italian also will not stop approaching until they have you pressed up against the wall.
You live in a great city. Stop complaining about it.
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