Just For Lookin' Thru

Inadvertently get off to a very unprofessional start because I get sidetracked by Tracey who is being quite rude, and she rather brings out the worst in me, so our talk becomes absolutely filthy, with hideous bursts of maniacal female laughter shrieking out in the office, at which point Andy appears in the doorway looking a bit tense and says he will get the keys for me for my 10 o’ clock appointment. I am abashed. I apologize and say I lost track of time, to which he replies, tensely I feel, 'Well, you have to have a laugh at work.' Yes, I say, but not so that I forget why I am there. Awful. The poor man’s paying me to behave like a fishwife. I must make sure I don’t sit next to Tracey at the Christmas dinner because I will certainly disgrace myself again. I have only three appointments; the first is at a neglected 1930s house which, strangely, for all its stink of damp and its pitiable state of repair, I absolutely love. The ceilings are high, the rooms spacious, and it is ...

It's quiet now. The crazy pre-Christmas house-buying spree has ended. The phone hardly rings. We drink coffee and eat chocolate to pass the time. I get a call from a desperate purchaser whose own sale has fallen through; their buyer has pulled out, causing them to lose the house they were going for. What can I say? It's sad, and annoying, but there's nothing to be done. People always get angry with estate agents for this sort of mishap, or blame the solicitors, yet its always some fickle punter who either backs out of a sale or withdraws their property from the market. Everyone wants to shoot the messenger. This woman on the phone is saying they have found another purchaser and are prepared to sell at a lower price in order to continue with the purchase that had to be stopped, providing the seller will agree to continue at the same price he agreed two months ago. There's the rub. The owner has put the place back on the market for another £15,000, part of which he feel...

We’re seated around four sides of a square stage, set up as a wood planked drawing room, and only two feet above the floor of the hall. In the front row we are so close to the actors we could reach out and touch them, and this intimacy creates a wonderful sense of sharing the room with them, listening and observing this Russian family. There is no need for projection, and the actors’ and voices are set at normal speech level which adds to the atmosphere of inclusion. This play is deeply ironic, and a masterful observation of human emotion and character. The actors are staggeringly well-rehearsed, and their facial expressions are natural throughout. Beecham has directed this play in such a way as to make the doctor likeable, Michel quite melodramatic, and Natalya more hysterical than I pictured from my reading of the paper text. There is more spirit on show. There is much laughter from the audience at the irony, even, most inappropriately when it is tragic, as much of it is. On paper, t...