Over on My London Your London I’ve a review of Techniques of Breathing in an Airlocked Space. If you know anything about Belarus politics you’ll know that there’s precious little free air for a theatre company there, but this is no heavy political piece, but a really delightful play in which the politics is beneath very human stories. Highly recommended.
A. For luuvvv, of course.
Seen in publications everywhere, the dormouse tunnel of love, designed to link two isolated colonies and so prevent inbreeding.
Hard to believe it will work, but hopefully the experts know what they are doing. And the dormice.
The call for submission for the carnival is up on Redemption Blues – don’t forget that you only have until September 3 to get in your nominations … so don’t delay. (Yes I know it is a little way away, but if you’re like me, these things have a habit of sneaking up…)
The suggested topics are an alliterative assemblage: feminism and fat; and feminism and faith … but other topics are also welcome.
Submissions can be sent to chameleonrattex [at] hotmail [dot] com, or via the nomination form.
UPDATE: Sorry if this link took you to a place you weren’t expecting before … now fixed!
My 19th-century “blogger” Miss Frances Williams Wynn is today being the historian, exploring changing accounts of the practice of the monarch “curing the sick” over time.
She describes discussing analysis of the whys and wherefores with her brother – although later members of the family have a very gentry “‘huntin’ and fishin’ and shootin'” reputation, this generation was definitely hooked into the intellectual currents.
Tis not often a sporting contest in which I am involved makes the “national media” – well The Times cricket blog, whose author just happens to also play for The Times’ team – so I can’t resist a little link. Sadly, it doesn’t record our sterling victory over the Daily Mail on Saturday, but rather our abject defeat. I would add that we very much got the worst of a wet pitch.
And me? Well I did hit a rather nice four through point – as well as I’ve timed a cricket shot in many a while – in fact it skipped through deep point’s legs before he’d even reacted. I was amused by his explanation to his captain: “I just didn’t expect it!”
Next time you’re talking to a blog-sceptic, who says “but isn’t it just a whole heap of self-important, self-obsessed navel-gazing?”, I’ve got the link for you. Over on Blogcritics, a series written by a young (19-year-old) man learning to work with his first guide dog. It will open your eyes.
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