Knots theatre reviewKNOTS by CoisCéim Dance Theatre Nuffield Theatre, Southampton, November 10Knots theatre review
Warning: Knots is definitely not a show for a first date. Any points you score for your edgy tastes will be negated by the sight of you squirming in your seat as the company enact the more torturous aspects of romantic entanglements in bone-crunching, head-screwing detail. Cheery it ain’t.
But magnetic viewing it is. CoisCéim’s dance (Or is it drama? Or is it poetry?) interpretation of R D Laing’s writings on the emotional catch-22s of human relationships is fast-paced and electric. Its mixture of thumping, cont
Jonathan Coe interviewJonathan Coe is resolved to expect the unexpected. Aside from his resigned dismay at the shrunken stature of his ‘tall’ latte following its transferral to a takeaway cup, he is also less than surprised that critics have received his latest novel, The Rain Before it Falls, as evidence of a new direction. As far as he’s concerned, it is anything but. Yet he is patient by nature. “I can never be bothered to complain about things like that,” he says. He is talking about the coffee, but one gets the impression that this generous, unassuming man takes a similar attitude to critical misunderstandings.Jonathan Coe interview
The 46-yea
Accents in broadcast mediaThe right accent can make a broadcasting career – just ask Essex’s best-known son, Russell Brand, or ubiquitous geordie duo Ant and Dec. The board of directors at Marks and Spencer would be the first to tell you that soft Dublin tones like those of Dervla Kirwan can quite literally breathe the life back into an ailing brand, too.Accents in broadcast media
Yet the range of accents heard – or, perhaps more accurately, used – in today’s broadcast media is a relatively new development. For at least the first sixty years of broadcasting, the voice of the British media was the voice of the upper-middle class, educated, white male.
War ChildHanding overWar Child
It was after dinner; approaching eight o’clock in the evening, when the knock at the door came. Grete dropped the fork she had been about to put away, and looked at Klaus. He nodded, and went to answer.
Grete trembled slightly as she listened to the murmur of conversation in the hall and stooped to pick up the fork. She had expected there to be more voices, but Klaus’ light tenor was answered by only one; that of a woman who spoke German with a foreign accent. Grete smoothed the front of her blue cotton dress and glanced about the kitchen. It was spotless.
Klaus led a small, dark
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...See there's still a place in me where your fingerprints still rest, your kisses still linger, and your whispers softly echo. It's the place where a part of you will forever be a part of me.
check out my Gallery : [link]
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Brain tingles ftw
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lulz
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"....No, painting is not done to decorate apartments. It is an instrument of war."
-Pablo Picasso
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let's make it fact, not fiction
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i wonder if you can pick up my
accent on the phone
when i call across the country, when i call across the world
[link]
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"Life is but a dream we have created in our own insanity." ~ME~
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