The broken promises that lie in my wake

Of course, when I mentioned yesterday that I'd give an more detailed account of the events of that evening, it had escaped my mind that I had plans for this evening too. Plans which, as it happened, saw an even later arrival home for me tonight. I'm tempted to deny you again, and drift sleepwards once more, but having done that already yesterday it hardly seems fair and I'm sure that too many denials can't be good for the soul..

Tonight's outing took me to Regents Park to witness "A Midsummers Night Dream" in the open air theatre that lies in the park's center. It's a play I have a particular fondness for, having seen a most excellent production of it last year (during which Simon Scardifield's thoroughly adorable Puck came ever so close to capturing my heart), and I could hardly resist an invitation to watch it again, particularly so close to the summer solstice and in such a fine location with twilight slowly descending as the play progressed. If you haven't visited the theatre it's an experience I'd recommend. It's cloistered away in the midst of a beautiful location (the rose garden looks quite spectacular just now) and has an ethereal, otherworldly air that's perfect for a play about the faerie realm Trees and greenery drape over the stage and form a lush background to the proceedings, with the actors appearing from and disappearing into (and occasionally being thrown into) the foliage. The atmosphere was marred only slightly by the occasional passing of an aircraft overheard or the buzzing of an irritatingly persistent helicopter.

I wasn't aware of the casting going in, so I was slightly surprised to discover the part of Bottom being played by Russ Abbott, an actor I'd already seen earlier in the year as Caractacus Potts (snr) in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. He's not someone I'd immediately associate with Shakespeare, but I doff my cap to him, as his comic timing was beyond reproach and he managed to steal near every scene he appeared in, transforming the play within a play of Pyramus and Thisbe (the lamentable comedy thereof), which prior I'd regarded as unnecessarily overlong padding, into the highlight of the evening. I remember once being surprised to discover that Shakespeare's work could actually be humorous. Tonight I discovered that it can be side splittingly funny.

I'm going to have to leave it it that now as my body is beginning to rebel against this staying awake business, possibly as a result of my deciding to walk the 10 or so miles to the theatre earlier (it was a lovely evening for a walk after all). Sleep beckons.

Now as for Derren Brown... how does tomorrow sound?