Tomorrow evening we get to experience (for a change) a little culture. And about time too. Quite frankly, we are slobs when it comes to anything of an artistic nature, quite happy to sit on our respective sofas while the good people at BBC, ITV, Sky et al spoonfeed us hour after hour of bright shininess accompanied by loud noises and adverts for cleaning products.
Katie has got us tickets to Twelfth Night at the RSC in Stratford-upon-Avon. I have no idea where this came from, but it's welcome. After all, living so close to Stratford we haven't really got any excuses. There are Japanese tourists who get to see more of the RSC's season than we do.
I'm not too familiar with this one, to be honest, so I went and had a look at the plot synopsis. So what have we here then?
Fictional country - check.
Shipwreck - check.
Mistaken identity - check.
Bereavement - check.
People being made to think they're mad - check.
Girl dressed as a boy - check.
And a character called Sir Toby Belch, to boot.
Riiight. Watching Trisha whilst wrapped in a towel and eating cold pizza will never seem the same again.
(P.S. If the title to this post still says "No holds Bard" then I apologise unreservedly. Sometimes I put something stupid there on the basis that the proper title will materialise later. Clearly it didn't on this occasion. That's a piss-poor title, isn't it? Brainfart. Sorry.)