Paul in London

On Thursday evening I had the opportunity to see the Sam Shepard play The Late Henry Moss at the Almeida Theatre. The first thing you notice about this production is what a fantastic set it is. It is probably the best stage I have seen since seeing Two Thousand Years at the National Theatre. There was so much detail in it that it was fascinating to look at even before the actors walked on stage. The story of the play is two sons who come back to New Mexico to find their alcoholic father dead. But it really isn't the plot that makes the play so interesting, but the dialogue and interplay between the brothers and the locals who last saw their father alive. The acting was naturally terrific and the play unfolded like a good family domestic. After the first half however those around me weren't sure the play was their cup of tea, but during the second half I took a glance at the rest of the audience, and it was clear people were sitting on the edge of their seats hanging on to ever

Scenes from a creepy London flat. One of the things that happens when you sign up to various websites offering flatshares is that people email you photos of hideous rooms like this one. It was in N4 and it looks like bathroom tiles covered in gold paint with Ikea blue lights and grandma's old bed (with perhaps her sheets too). Incidentally as I was in Australia for two months some people have noted that I had flattened my vowells considerably. So much so that when I was talking about gayshare they thought I was saying geisha. I said to them not to worry, I was working on my novel Memoirs of a Gayshare .

I think it may be all sorted now, but this weekend I have been auditioning for a place to live. It is such a beauty contest where you have to show that you have personality yet are considerate in about half an hour. By Sunday I was over it. For various reasons (and much to the horror of some northern friends) I have decided to go for "sarf London" rather than "noorf London". I don't get this divide based on the Thames. I have seen rubbish on either side of the Thames so I think it is all a bit silly. Anyway, I did have the opportunity to live in the north but decided against it. There were two reasons: price and the most hideous shocking bathroom I have ever seen. It was a tough decision I could have lived in zone one near Kings Cross Station (an area Time Out recently described as "up and coming" so that counts for something surely) overlooking Regent's Canal. It was very quiet and not bad looking for a semi-industrial-ripe-for-regeneration area.

I had the chance to catch three hours of Ibsen yesterday – Pillars of the Community – at the National Theatre . It was a fantastic new translation, but A thought I was only interested in it because Lesley Manville who plays Lona Hessel wears some fantastic costumes and at the end is wearing a red dress surrounded by heavy rainfall. And it wasn't me who started jumping up and down in his seat (as much as one can do this in fourth row centre) when the dishy hero walked in… Anyway it was engaging stuff. Later when we went to pick up our things at the cloakroom… Paul (handing the attendant the number): There are two coats and a bag… A (to the attendant): Actually there are just two coats. He is the bag.

Scenes from Tottenham Court Road Tube Saturday 19:23 - The long walk down the stair shaft... 99 steps... 

Scenes from Tooting Common Thursday 08:09 - a frosty reception going to work... 

I have started to pay a little more interest in Celebrity Big Brother as tonight I caught some highlights showing transsexual Pete – famous in the eighties for that song "You Spin Me Round (Like a record)" doing a repeat performance of his one hit wonder. It was an amazing act of desperation. Pity he has so much plastic surgery his face looks like a mask. The rest of the "celebrities" includes ex-basketball player Dennis Rodman and Michael Barrymore. Barrymore lives in New Zealand after some guy turned up dead in his swimming pool in the UK but he is fondly enough remembered in the UK for most of the papers to warn the other contestants to skip the swimming lessons with him…

Today was one of those cold windy and wet days so it was a perfect opportunity to go to the movies. Match Point had just opened and being a new Woody Allen flick (and his first to be shot in London) it was well worth going to… Or so it seemed. It turned out that the story was a series of clichés held together by some pretty bad acting / pouting on the part of lead actor Jonathan Rhys-Myers. There was also a rather absurd plot development of two murders committed by a shotgun that took place in a central London apartment block with not a CCTV camera in sight. In real London six cameras would have caught the murderer's every move (unless the cameras had burnt out or malfunctioned)… Part way through the film A asked me if I was seeing a lesson in the film for me and I whispered back to him that the lesson from this film is to not screw around with your tennis coach as they can be such nasty bitches... The locations were bog-standard spots and included St Mary Axe ("the gherkin&q

Man #1 : You’re looking great… You’ve got a great colour! Man #2 : Oh I’ve just been to the Canaries for a week… (I was in Australia for eight and all I got to show for it was a slight farmer’s tan…)

Scenes from Waterloo Tube Saturday 00:16 - Heading towards the Northern Line branch