A deed of gift

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I gave blood earlier this week. Don’t worry – I’m not about to go all Titus Andronicus on you and mention all the times Shakespeare talks about blood – life is too short and I tend to get light-headed just looking at my own donation*. I was just lying there, musing on how odd it was to, you know, undergo pain and some prolonged discomfort to help strangers. How great altruism is**. And how profoundly undramatic it is.

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Twelfth Night

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St Paul’s Church, Covent Garden

I like seeing plays I know done by troupes I respect. It’s like coming home. This is one play where you aren’t going to get a plot recap – if I studied it at school, and can remember I did, I’m assuming basic knowledge in the rest of you. If you don’t know it, it’s the one with a shipwreck, twins, and a fool. That’ll narrow it down for you…

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