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Sleight of hand: The Fabulist @charingcrossthr

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Billed as a musical comedy, The Fabulist is actually a rare chance to see Giovanni Paisiello’s rarely performed light opera, The Imaginary Astrologers , translated and updated to Mussolini’s Italy. With sublime music, fine singing and a bit of additional silliness thrown in for good measure, it’s a welcome addition to the choices available on the West End. It’s currently playing at Charing Cross Theatre . In this update, the action moved to Italy in 1929. A magician (or, as he prefers to be called, Fabulist), Julian is on the run from both the fascists and the Catholic Church. On the run, he stumbles on a film shoot and dazzles the screenwriter Clarice with his charm while her sister tries to complete a series of mildly subversive historical films. What will win in a battle of ideas between science and magic, the church and the Fabulist? It’s an evening of light operatic comedy, so there are no prizes for guessing.  Experts in clerical fascism and fascist mysticism may find some of the
Housekeeping and the Weekend

No computer set up at home yet, so have done this update from an internet cafe on the Strand. Oh well, it's nice to get out on a Sunday evening... Even if nobody else does!

I will look back at this weekend and think of the fabulous things that could have been done such as:
* Russian Orchestra at the Barbican
* Walk through the Heath in the light snow
* Take coffee throughout Bloomsbury
* Major blockbuster Turner, Whistler and Monet at the Tate

But no, instead I cleaned the old flat at West Hampstead and after downsizing (ie throwing lots of things out or giving them to Charity) I moved everything else into my new place in Bloomsbury. It was exhausting. You don't want to be carrying an ironing board, two boxes of books and clothes and a wheelie suitcase everyday on the Thameslink. It didn't help that this weekend the Jubilee Line was out for engineering works either. There is no dignity when moving on the cheap. By the time I got to Kings Cross I decided to catch a cab for the rest of the journey home.

We will find out tomorrow during the flat inspection whether we get our (or rather mostly my) bond back, minus the next two weeks...

The rubbish real estate agents hinted that we could get out by 1 March and they would move somebody in from that date but it turns out that they will stick to our six week agreement as they are having trouble moving new people in... Maybe that is because:
* The place was built using dodgy offcuts of wood
* The roof in the kitchen wasn't fitted correctly so now it leaks and is home to several types of mould
* The living area doesn't get much natural light and has curiously unusual corners and dips in the floor
* The neighbor sounds like she is a hooker who gets bitch-slapped every other night
* Homeless men shit outside your place (but I covered that in October)
* Winter is a bit of a slow time anyway

Well hey... Its only money...

News: Oscar Oscar Zzz

Will probably fall asleep tonight watching the Oscars, which has to be better than Temazapan. They are broadcast on the BBC which is a bit unfortunate as they have to find something to fill the regular 3 minute commercial breaks. If last year was any measure of a guide they had Jonathan Ross and other film aficionados smugly commenting on the proceedings while drinking champers. It was excrutiating. So much ado about over paid surgery enhanced actors. Good to read that Awards fatigue is setting in...

New place, New stuff

On the plus side, after getting another one of those fabulous coffees near me, I spent early this afternoon getting some new stuff for my room to make it just so. It now is just so right...

New places: Planet Organic

I now live just around the corner from a Planet Organic so yesterday I thought I would give it a try as it is always busy when I walk by it.

The coffee wasn't so great for something organic and the cafe seemed to be frequented mostly by middle aged women and youngish-scruffy-pasty-white men with bad sinuses. The fact that I could fit into that latter cohort was not lost on me. Was the organic life me, or was I just having a bad hair day and not giving a shit about what I was wearing??

Anyway rather than dwell on this too much, I drank organic coffee, ate my organic muffin and after purchasing an organic cucumber for twice the Gross National Product of New Zealand, I left.

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