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Kafka-ish: Kafka @Finborough

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In offering proof that Kafka is everything to everyone - writer-performer Jack Klaff plays various roles, including the man himself in what is a part tour, part immersion and part legend of Franz Kafka. He is a writer who achieved fame after his life was cut short due to succumbing to tuberculosis at the age of forty. He is probably better known for his reputation and the Kafkaesque style attributed to his writing than his life. But after this piece, you’re left curious to learn more about the man and his works. And that has to be the best theatrical tribute you could give a writer, even for a writer who stipulated that his works be destroyed upon his death. It’s currently playing at the Finborough Theatre . Franz Kafka was born in Prague in 1883. In 1901, he was admitted to a university and began studying law. While studying, he met Max Brod, who would become his best friend and eventual literary executor. Brod would posthumously publish many of his works and writings. Kafka’s life co
The Necessary Business

I am a little bit tipsy as I write this update thanks to the UK taxpayer and some farewell drinks as the office moves (I see it as a small rebate for the huge amount of tax the government takes from you here)...

Anyway last night I had the discussion with my housemates that I was avoiding all week. It was the I won't be alone in a few weeks and I need to know if I should be moving out conversation. And yes I will have to move out.

It was a polite sit down conversation over supper... but one that I had to have as I need to give four weeks notice and it is now less than four weeks.

I have mixed views about leaving beautiful Haringey. Well lets face it the neighborhood is a shit hole because it is full of Turks and illegal immigrants who have no concept of modernity. They haven't built a community in this neighbourhood as so much as replicate a middle-eastern slum. On the other hand, Soho is only twenty minutes on the tube...

There are plusses and minuses about moving out. The house - while all beige and proof that a queer eye is no guide to style or taste - is still quite lovely by London standards. And the guys I share with - while full of the popular London self-loathing and anal retentativeness - have been nice in their own way too. I think they will be sad to see me go as well. As lets face it, I am a dream tennant. I'm clean, tidy and good for a few laughs. Assuming you overlook:
* the time I left the coke can and the toaster out on the kitchen bench and went out for the day
* the time I left the good knife in the cutlery drainer to air dry rather than dry with a towel and put away in its proper drawer
* the time I ate yoghurt on the non food couch

So today I started looking for a place for two. There was a bedsit in West Hampstead that looked just right advertised on the gumtree - a popular site for Australians looking for accomodation in London. I rang the lady who was the contact in the ad and said I was enquiring about the place for myself and my partner.
"Is your partner a female partner or a male partner?" she asked.
"My partner is male" I replied.
There was a pause, then:
"I'm sorry, but I cannot let this place to two gentlemen"
"That's quite allright you have a lovely day" I told her and hung up. Hey if she doesn't want two dream tennants that's her loss.

Besides, I still have to check outlet.co.uk and gayshare.co.uk exist. I have a hunch they offer much better places (even if they may suffer from a bit too much beige)...

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