MacBee was awesome. Banquo was fine and MacDuff had a manbosom that can only be called darling, I wanted to run up and pinch it. Lady MacBee rocked, she went crazy with volume, expression, range, and the odd Joplin-esque growl. As usual Verdi boxed my ears, set me on my feet, and made me forget everything that has ever bothered me about anything and I feel astronomically better today. The minimalist 'how the hell do we get a reasonably cheap vision of Dark Age Scotland through the prism of James's England through the prism of Austro-Hungarian Italy' set was pretty nice too.
Nice to see the lovely Miss B, though she was sickly and didn't have much to say for herself. However she did give one good wet cough all over my intermission ice cream, and it being ice cream I couldn't stop scarfing it like someone was about to take it away. Oh well, if the incubation periods work out properly, I'll come down with whatever she has AFTER the wedding. Instead of an inauguration speech our next PM should have a ice-cream bar eating demonstration. Just stand at the podium, eating bar after bar of melty Haagen-Daz, without any napkins. I'd actually watch that instead of reading about it in the Economist the next Thursday.
I've decided my deadline is actually October 8th. This was the conclusion of a really helpful conversation with AC in Vancouver, who has volunteered to be my cheerleader, and who sat through some dream analysis with me. Everything is coming up - roses? Maybe not yet. Just dandelions. But those taste better anyways.
