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Travelin' Through: Broken Toys @CervantesTheatr

Things are a bit different at the Cervantes Theatre when you see Broken Toys. You enter through the upstairs dressing rooms and go down to the theatre. It is a circuitous route, much like the story of Marion. You end up in the same place but have taken a different journey. And like what the old prostitute said. It's not the work but the stairs. And there before you is the theatre, but not entirely as I recall it. It feels like an intimate cabaret venue with tables and a shiny stage. And there we are introduced to Marion. Marion grew up in a small town during the Franco regime. A place where looking a bit different could make you the subject of gossip and a threat to your life. And despite being assigned male at birth and the attempts of family and father figures, she was an outsider in her town.  And so Marion sets off on a journey to the city. And in the shadows, she finds a place to hide. But with guidance from drag performer Dorian Delacroix begins to find her voice. Her journe

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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