The Cherry Orchard

I've just noticed for the first time that I never downloaded any of the pictures I took on our second weekend excursion, to Stratford-upon-Avon, so all I have from that day are phone pictures of the RSC theatre before the performance of The Cherry Orchard.

I don't think this is any great loss; the world does not need another picture of Shakespeare's Birthplace, and it saves me from any obligation to sort through them and see if any are worth sharing.

The pictures are gone because my camera was stolen, along with everything else in my purse, from a Starbucks in London. Obviously I managed to get myself back to New York despite having no credit cards, no cash, no phone, and no house keys, thanks to a lovely friend who swooped in and gave me a shoulder to cry on plus a much-needed loan, but it was not an experience I ever want to repeat.

As for The Cherry Orchard, I enjoyed the performance though I did think it emphasized the comedy at the expense of the underlying sadness. And the seats in the galleries at the RSC theatre are wickedly uncomfortable, with so little legroom even a 16th century audience would have felt cramped. My 20th century knees were outraged, but even those of my classmates with healthy joints were complaining.