My Kinda Marathon..

We cannot keep this up.
I am breathless with the emotional and physical energy we've expended since New Year. Three times to the National Theatre. Parking in Regent's Park, we hot foot it across the West End and Waterloo Bridge, arriving flushed and drunk with endorphins as we slide into our seats. (Over 13000 steps, including return, if you're with someone who has a phone in his pocket.)
So Red Barn first, an adaptation by David Hare. A fabulous fusion of cinema and theatre from the incredibly talented director, Robert Icke. Next up, Patrick Marber's adaptation of Hedda Gabler for light relief?  Hardly. Ruth Wilson making the portrayal of a psycho-bitch into an art-form. Bewitching performance. Gripping stuff. Then on Tuesday back again for Amadeus which was beyond fabulous. Live music by the Southbank Sinfonia and wonderful operatic arias added to the power of this revival. Oh, it pressed all my buttons! Feet hardly touched the ground on the way back to the car.

Saturday night in with the telly? Doesn't really compare.

And a View from the Bridge without an Arthur Miller