Who pays the new rates and who doesn’t?
It seems there’s some confusion about who pays what. Hopefully this post will clarify the matter. If you last visited me within the 12 months up to March 30th 2011, then whatever you paid on your last visit will be what you pay in future. If you have visited me in the past, but not since March 30th 2010, then the new rates apply. If you have not visited me before, or if your first visit was after March 30th 2011, then the new rates apply. Hope that helps. Feel free to email me if you’re still unsure.
Fanny Hill
I’ve just finished reading this. What fun! Page after page of absolute filth! It rather took me by surprise as I knew very little about it when I started reading. Jane Austen it is not! Apparently it also “combines elements of European literature and philosophy”. I missed that first time round, so I’m going to read it all over again, straight away, this time concentrating on the philosophy bits (No, really! I will be!).
Two nights at the opera.
Last month I was treated to a box at the Royal Opera House. I felt quite the demimondaine. Champagne and everything! The occasion was Anna Nicole, Mark Anthony Turnage’s new opera based on the life of Anna Nicole Smith. It was actually surprisingly accessible. Far more so than most of Turnage’s music. Our verdict was, quite fun, but lacking in soul. The action galloped along at a spanking pace with very few pauses for reflection or any sort of meaningful interaction between the main characters. A nice heartrending aria wouldn’t have gone amiss. Very exciting to see a brand new opera at ROH, though. We also went to see Aida. Apparently it was panned by the critics. Presumably for being a bit over the top. It certainly was that. All ritual human...
Hello world!
My first ever blog post! Here it is after four and a half solid hours of procrastination. The house is spotless, the books in my bedroom bookcase arranged in height order, and I’ve drunk three cups of tea and eaten six pieces of toast with butter and marmite, but I’ve done it. This has been very much like writing thank you letters on Boxing Day as a child. At breakfast my mother would announce a moratorium on Christmas telly until all thank you letters were safely in the post box. There after, my sister and I would spend the next few hours moping about the house, doodling on our writing pads and whining “but I don’t know what to put”, until about ten minutes before The Muppet Movie was due to start, at which point we would each dash off twelve lots...
About Me
