'The World For Me To Bustle In.'

Went to see this last night: http://www.lionandunicorntheatre.co.uk/richard-iii/

Not without trepidation; the actress performing has connections to friends of mine, but RIII is one of my favourite plays, and I had already decided that if I couldn't enjoy it, if I didn't find her up to the task of expressing this extraordinary character, or if it was some kind of deconstructed dumbing down,  I wasn't going to pretend otherwise.  The most tactful thing I could do would be to smile,clap, then never speak of it again. But that's not what happened at all.

Suited like Frost and drinking like Nixon... shifty and funny and witty, with a crooked sparkle sadly missing from BC's version...I was delighted to see the subtlety of Richard's inner collapse after gaining the crown, and the structure of the piece made me wonder how Emily Carding would cope with his terrible dream on the eve of battle, a scene formed almost entirely from other people's ideas of him. The result was beautiful,moments of frozen gazing at the dead, trembling, reaching for the bottle... a very modern anguish.

Delicious.

And then

Coming home, meeting a woman at the top of the street warning me that some guy seems to be attempting sexual assaults on women alone at night 'at the end of the road'. He's a black guy with a rucksack on his back and he tries to touch your body. She said something about her daughter reporting it, and recommended one has one's keys ready or mobile phone out.

FFS.  I know it is a part of our lives and you can never really get away from it, but FFS. So sick of this crap.

Got in, having had no dinner, ate half a tub of rhubarb and ginger icecream, fried prawns in chilli oil with lemon and some old grapes with cheese. Am now suffering the morning indigestibles.

All in all, I'd rather be back at the Lion and Unicorn.