Earlier this week I was kindly invited to see the re-opening of Alan Bennett's The History Boys at the Wyndham's Theatre. It was a case of a friend of mine having to go along for a national daily newspaper to get a morsel of something (something, anything, a crumb of gossip, just get someone to say something, anything) to put in their diary pages the following day. The more famous the person, the more silly the comment they made, apparently the better.
A rainy January night, a pack of desperate photographers and even more desperate autograph hunters outside the theatre. I had made a mad dash on two wheels from the city and was gasping for a drink (something, anything) and wanted to escape the rather ridiculous crowd that hung around drooling for a face to snap or a coat sleeve to pull at. The London hype surrounding famous people is incredible, but all too real.Read more Recording Fame
Since fully entering the London rat race I have come across a number of 30-somethings that appear to feel rather bitter about being around 20-somethings, much to the bewilderment of the latter. It is these people that will perhaps scoff at the idea that there is a big leap between being 21 and 24, crying that it is all within the same degree of naivety, but I can vouch for this leap when remembering my reaction towards Albertina Carri’s Los Rubios, released in 2003 and one of the first films I saw during my first period of living in Buenos Aires.