Musical theatre brunch

We went to Carol's house today for a musical theatre-style brunch. Carmen, the pint-sized Yankie diva, made delicious American-style pancakes, which were served with bacon and eggs, and strawberries and grilled halloumi.  We watched Broadway shows on DVD, mostly the canon of Stephen Sondheim. Angela Lansbury in the 1979 production of Sweeney Todd was a particular force of nature. I've seldom seen a more extreme, yet remarkable performance.  Nathan started knitting a new pair of socks and I tried my hardest to relax, even though my mind kept flitting to the Arts Council application, trying to weigh up the need to implement two more sets of comments against my need to clear my mind to begin rewrites on the requiem first thing tomorrow.  The sun finally came out this evening, and our drive home from Catford was fairly intense with the wet roads reflecting the blinding sunlight like a giant mirror. We had pizzas for tea, which will be the last trashy food I'm going to eat for a while. Helen kept tapping my belly last night. She was right to; I'm a fat chocolate froozler!  350 years ago, and Pepys and his new doctor friend found a group of tasty young fillies to wine, dine and supply with sweet-meats late into the night. The ladies' lodgings was within the city walls, and one of them was permanently stationed next to a window to keep a watch out for the closure of the city gates. Pepys and the doctor didn't want to get trapped within the  walls all night. I actually find it quite bizarre that the gates were shut and locked in this manner. Perhaps there was a heightened state of security due to the Queen's imminent arrival.