Hamlet And The Polka Dot Jersey

A superb Hamlet at Stratford yesterday. Seeing the noble Dane at the Bard's birthplace is, I suppose, one of those things a good Shakespearean should tick off his list. And now I can.

My last trip to the Royal Shakespeare Theatre was mildly disappointing: partly the fault of Will himself because even his nearest and dearest would have to concede that Cymbeline is a bit of a mess; partly, I'm afraid, because the RSC made the play even messier (there are other more learned critics who disagree with me on this one). However the current production of Hamlet is, imho (I suspect we bloggers ought to use these terms), bloody good. A largely black cast and an atmosphere of post-colonial Africa are cleverly deployed and Paapa Essiedu in the lead is magnificent. Not a hint of any tiresome sledgehammer Oedipal palaver either. Which was nice.

possible fashion statement

I've cleared out the gym at the back of our garage (treadmill, cross-trainer, rowing machine) and been quite a good boy about exercise. The Precious Bike is also back on the agenda: this morning I did the Col de Worcester Lane twice and I have awarded myself the virtual polka dot jersey as King of the Mountains. Do you think I should sacrifice all remaining dignity and add a real such jersey to my lycra wardrobe? Peut etre que non.