Started a new book tonight: Alan Hollinghurst's The Line of Beauty. And I'm going to go to bed right now so's I can get up and do yoga.
They took me out to lunch today at work. I think I am not used to so much overt attention. I thrive much better when I can smile wryly from the sidelines or crack a sarcastic quip from beneath an unwrinkled brow. I know the people at work love me, but all of the outright fawning today was too much. It shocked me.
Everyone should do more Noel Coward. When I have my own theatre, we're bringing back Coward. His plays are so charming and amusing and, well, light.
I rather liked Blithe Spirit, though I think it is a tad difficult as a piece of comedy. I loved Private Lives and its unapologetic look at fighting and bickering and how passion is the flipside of passion. I absolutely adored Hay Fever and I would give anything to be in it. It's like madcap Oscar Wilde with all of the subterfuge, most of the ridiculousness, but none of the manners. It's fabulous.