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Still here: While They Were Waiting - Upstairs At The Gatehouse

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As the song goes, time heals everything. Or as another song says, it's time after time. Yet waiting—for a moment, a minute, or even a while—can feel like a chore. In Gary Wilmot’s slightly absurd and silly While They Were Waiting, the focus is on waiting and wordplay. No opportunity is missed to find more than one meaning in what is said. A debate arises about the difference between a smidge and a whisker. There's a playful riff on how you can be here and over there at the same time, depending on your standpoint. If this piece has a point at all, it depends on what you find funny. The concept of waiting-related language is, in itself, amusing, and there is plenty to laugh about in this show. It’s currently playing at Upstairs at the Gatehouse . The premise is simple: Mulbery (Steve Furst) arrives for an appointment and is kept waiting. What the appointment is for, we are not clear about but he is waiting for a yellow door to open. Nobody answers when he rings. He’s joined by th...
Idle Chatter at home this evening

Paul: I am just heading out for a spot of gym
Flatmate: You're heading out for a spot of what?
Paul: Gym.
Flatmate: Oh gym! I thought you said you were heading out for a spot of gin!
Paul: Wouldn't that be a splash of gin?

Keeping fit and smoking

As for gym, six months after joining I think it is paying off as I feel healthier and I can run for long periods without passing out. This must be a good thing. Although I am still not ready to take my shirt off in a dance tent in Brighton.

To help with the whole gym experience I have had Kylie, Madge and Whitney on the iPOD. But I have also supplemented them with old hits from Olivia Newton John, Basement Jaxx and Mariah Carey. Yes Mariah as New York Times said that her song "We belong together" is the song of the summer. So who can argue about that?

Later tonight I returned home to a flat full of cigarette smoke. My flatmate was entertaining a gentleman caller who obviously had a thing for heavy duty tobacco. I didn't see the caller but envisaged that he would be some red-faced leathery looking thing so I figured I didn't need to meet the passing trade. As for the smoke, I shouldn't complain too much about it since I am living with somebody fairly easygoing. No kitchen Nazi, unlike my former housemates in Haringey. When looking for a place I found it worthwhile to discount anybody who introduced the kitchen with a funny accent and adding "And this is how we always keep it... Spotless!"

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