Tennesse Williams

I chilled out today on painkillers and ice packs.

Tonight, Julie and I went to see three of Tennesse William’s short plays at the Queens Hall. They were a revelation. He depicted the awfulness of lives in the working class communities of the south, emphasising the plight of women.

Ivan’s Widow is an appointment where a widow consults a psychiatrist. His behaviour seems appropriate but becomes increasingly predatory. Is her paranoia real?

Talk to me like the rain and let me listen is about a couple whose fragmentary conversation touches on the loneliness and despair that can exist in a relationship.

Finally, 27 Wagons full of cotton is a shocking play about power and lust and manipulation. My image is taken during the Q & A that took place after that play.

The little theatre company has no grants and the small audience last night showed how hard it must be to keep going. We were an attentive group and very glad we went.

Later on Julie and I chatted over a glass or two of red wine. I did not realise that Daisy was absent. During the night I woke, alone in my bed, so I went to seek her. Somehow, she had got out before the cat flap was locked and she was crying and trying to get in. It was pouring. Poor Daisy.