Culture

Here we are, back again on the homestead after a short cultural break in Stratford Upon Avon. Every year we hie ourselves across the country for a dose of Shakespeare and this year we out- cultured ourselves, seeing three plays in three days - The Taming of the Shrew, Hamlet and A Midsummer Night's Dream.

Hamlet was a particularly tempting production, as this year it starred not only Patrick 'Jean-Luc Picard' Stewart as Claudius (and the Ghost of Old Hamlet - who says men can't multi-task?) but Whooooo -ooooooooooo David 'Doctor Who' (tiddly dum, tiddly dum, tiddly dum) Tennant. With seats near the front I managed not to fling myself at the stage. And neither did Number One Doctor Who Fan Andy!! Of the three productions, which were all excellent, my favourite was A Midsummer Night's Dream. According to Andy I laughed a lot and very loudly - I wasn't aware of doing this and no-one turned and stared at me in the manner of 'Why is she laughing? Doesn't she realise this is Shakespeare?' But it was funny and made me think how many very talented stage actors we have and how ironic it is that less talented performers seem to achieve the trappings of fame by appearing on telly and film when perhaps they don't really deserve it.

We stumbled across the Cotswold Chicken Company whilst away and have decided that now is the time to increase our flock by 100% i.e from 2 chickens to 4! Unfortunately, Mrs Bennett seems to have developed a case of egg binding and is booked in for an operation on Wednesday.
'Where have you been, Mrs Bennett?' asks Mrs Miggins, as they wind skeins of wool together; winter drawers on and last year's are looking threadbare so they need to knit new ones toute suite. 'Well,' says Mrs Bennett, 'here's a thing. You know I've been a bit, you know, incapacitated, recently?' (Genteel lady hens always discuss egg matters in euphemisms.) 'Yes, dear, I do,' replies Mrs Miggins who has no trouble popping one out every day but is very empathic towards her companion on matters of blockage. 'I've been for a sauna, warm bath and massage,' Mrs Bennett confides. 'In the house. I know how humans live.' Mrs Miggins is impressed. She's been trying to break in for weeks, making a dash for the door every time it opens and only a couple of times risked having her head slammed in it.'What's it like?' Miggins asks, pausing in her winding. Mrs Bennett sits back and thinks. 'Well, the kitchen is nice - very tasteful pale green. But I'm not sure about the black and white tiles in the bathroom. I can see what they are trying to do - a Victorian pastiche , what with the palms and fancy shower head - but I think the picture of exotic frogs rather misses the mark.'

Mrs Miggins nods in agreement. 'What would Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen say?' she sighs.
'I imagine he would barf in a bucket,' says Mrs Bennett. 'Earwig, Mrs Miggins?'
'Why thank you, Mrs Bennett. Are you worried about your, you know, procedure. On Wednesday.'

'Not as much as Denise,' says Mrs Bennett.