Streetcar

Thursday night I watched the Young Vic production of A Streetcar Named Desire on YouTube. The well-advertised lead is Gillian Anderson and she’s great as Blanche. But her sister, Stella, is played by one of my favourite actors: Vanessa Kirby, whom I adored as Princess Margaret in season two of The Crown. She’s impossibly good at everything I’ve seen her do.

It’s a great, hot, jarring, raw production. It’d be too much for me to take, live; I’m glad I saw it at a distance, via film. 

Honestly, the National’s shows every week are the highlight of my week (when it’s not Shakespeare). Theatre is one of the most magnificent of human activities.

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The boys are in! We’re playing Croquet next week. I’m going to propose Wednesday. We’ll picnic together/apart and then play a game. I’m going to bake something to take for our desert.

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This morning, I walked with Eoin and then I watered the gardens before taking some time to lie down and nap in the on again, off again, sunshine. Next, it’s off to dog romping before I have a spa. Tonight, I make cookies and do more reading of Tara Westover’s memoire, educated.

I tried to read The Alice Network, by Kate Quinn. I got two pages into it and was done. I may read it if I’m desperate, sometime—but probably not. It was as immediately off putting in the extreme, as educated is seductive.

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Fred decided to use my marijuana seedlings, in the little peat boats, for play. Dirt and seedings were lying about the house. The seeds cost about fifty-five dollars! I put root hormone on the bottom of the stems and re-seeded them.