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A little less conversation: After Sex @Arcolatheatre

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According to research, millennials in rich countries are having sex less these days. But they were prepared to talk more about it. So, it is no surprise to see a story about what happens when a series of no-strings-attached encounters start to become attachments. And the conversations arising from it. Such is the premise of After Sex, Siofra Dromgoole’s two-hander of the conversations afterwards. It’s not particularly sexy or erotic, and the snappy pacing and short scenes sometimes make you wish they stayed longer to finish the conversation. Nevertheless, it is still a funny and, at times, bittersweet picture of single lives in the big city. It’s currently playing at the Arcola Theatre .  He is bi and works for her in an office job. She is neither ready for a commitment nor to let the office know what’s happening. He isn’t prepared to tell his mum there’s someone special in his life. He doesn’t speak to his dad, so his mum is his world. It’s a perfect relationship/arrangement. Or so it
News: Another day, another suspect package

There is no benefit in staying back working late. I found this out tonight when the high street was closed off due to a suspect package found near the tube station. It turned out to be nothing and the main street has just now reopened. Its just another day of heightened state of alert where every package and every passenger is suspect.

Actually dealing with suspect passengers is easy now... You just get up and move to another carriage. I didn't think I would see this but I saw it on the Victoria line when a drunk man asleep across several seats was causing a little alarm to other passengers, so they got up and moved. Personally drunk men flailing about didn't strike me as likely terrorists.

Tonight as the Victoria line was suspended due to more security alerts this meant I took to walking on foot from Brixton to Stockwell. Along the way I noticed the terrorist safe house in Blair House that was raided overnight and the impromptu memorial of paper signs and dried out flowers outside Stockwell tube station to the Brazilian man killed last Friday.

Oh and it wasn't just an ordinary day going to work either. There were very few people on the tube, but there were six Transport Police officers at my station at 7.15 this morning... I did feel a little self conscious with my big bulky rucksack filled with my gym gear and iPOD wires trailing out of my jacket... But life (and the gym and not to mention the music) still goes on...

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