I am working on my Dublin tan much to the chagrin of the festival organizers. They are praying for rain as attendance soars in the drab of the drizzle or so I'm told. I'm trying not to smile too much about the sun but it is lovely sitting by the Liffey River, reading my lines and sipping damn fine coffee. I already have a crush on this city where writers walked and talked and plays are shelved along with other fiction. No pathetic little teeny tiny shelf off to the side of poetry but right among the novelists. And not just Ibsen and Shakespeare and Shaw but a lovely array of new plays too. And book stores have not gone the way of the Do Do bird here. There seems to be one every few blocks or so. Not as prolific as pubs but if people need to drink a lot I'm glad they're reading too. First show is tomorrow night and I am both nervous and excited and afraid and confident. A nice mixed state of feelings. Being together and scrambled suits me well in this 1000 year old city where one side was carefully gridded out and planned and the other side is a hodge podge that just made itself up as it went along. Pictured is some new royal friends that I met on my way through London's Gatwick airport on Friday. And me standing in the Gate Theatre before seeing Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. And it was hot!
As is,
Jan
No comments:
Post a Comment