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Kafka-ish: Kafka @Finborough

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

Life in London: Burglary

Crime in London may be on the decline, but occasionally it does come and remind you its still there.  Over the past weekend someone got into my flat via a suspected unsecured bathroom window and helped themselves to a five year old iPod. I wonder if they will enjoy the over-representation of musical theatre and funky house tracks on it, but who knows. There is also the slight sense of humiliation you feel when burglars have determined the only thing you have worth stealing is a five year old iPod, but that's probably something I can discuss when the victims of crime unit gets in touch.

I always believed that you would know when you were burgled as you would come home and see clothes thrown around, drawers left open, things upended. That is also a bit like what my flatmate's room looks like on a good day but I digress. But returning home on Monday evening I at first did not see anything out of the unusual. Except for the toiletries bag with my electric shaver open on the bed. And then my bottom bedside drawer open. It was empty but that's because since I moved I had not had the chance to fill it with junk. And then noticing my iPod missing from its dock I initially thought, "Why has my flatmate borrowed my iPod?"

After waking my flatmates up Monday evening, we started piecing together a hypothetical scenario of two yoofs climbing through the bathroom window, picking my room (as it was the closest), and so forth. I started to spook my flatmates when I suggested one of them probably disturbed them so they decided to flee before venturing into their rooms. I slept soundly that night as I figured the crime already happened but I'm not sure about everyone else.

Tuesday I found myself at the local police station reporting the crime. As I started discussing the story with the police, neighbours and others, the hypothetical scenario seemed more and more plausible. Although once you report a crime you have to be prepared for the police to make an initial visit, then for someone to do a crime scene investigation and then you get a call from someone offering victim support. It is an impressive service, but it is also exhausting.

The landlord, the caretaker and others stopped by to discuss. Suddenly I knew the neighbourhood. Not a bad outcome for an old iPod. Until they come around again I guess...

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