I went to the gym this morning and noticed a little paper sign on the front door, which read, "polite note: please remember to close this door." Since when do we need to start prefacing a notice that includes the word "please" with the phrase "polite note"? Is the word "please" no longer enough to indicate politeness? Surely I can decide for myself whether or not a note is polite? Or indeed whether or not it's a note! This is management jargon at its very worst; the use of too many words because some poorly educated person in internal comms thinks it sounds posher! The same person will also have a tendency to misuse the word "myself." Don't even get me started on that one...
I watched the news today, and ended up feeling incredibly sorry for the newsreader. First Japan, then Bahrain, then Libya, and then she has to tell us that unemployment here is at it's highest level since 1994. Is the world actually falling apart?
But looking on the bright side, at least The Cutty Sark is almost renovated after that devastating fire (which I was surprised to hear was as many as four years ago.) What a pointless waste of public funds! It's hardly The Mary Rose. My 'cello is older than that boat! And spare me the diatribes about it being the fastest ship of its day. We unceremoniously dispatched Concorde, didn't we? Don't get me wrong, I love a nice cup of tea, but I genuinely think people go to see the Cutty Sark because they think it's more interesting than it actually is. Maybe they think it's something to do with Captain Cook, or the boat that Scott took to the Antarctic!
This is rapidly turning into the rantiest blog I've ever written!
Fortunately, I've just been to the Finborough Theatre to watch Nic in a production of Carol Churchill's Fen, which was rather brilliantly done. Nic acted it beautifully and in fact there wasn't a weak link in the cast. The set, which was based around a potato field, worked wonderfully well, and though it pains me to say it, the incidental music was spot on! Well done to all concerned.
March 16th, 1661, and Pepys went to the theatre to see The Spanish Curate, as it happened, rather badly acted. He returned home, fairly late, and found that his live-in clerk, Will Hewer was not back home. This immediately made him angry, and he vowed not to let him in when he finally arrived. Fortunately he changed his mind, because Hewer had been working late at the Guildhall, specifically to help his boss!