St. Patrick's Day

Which means that I've had to fight Anglophilia for most of my life. Anglophilia is antithetical to the Irish--and Irish-American--experience.

For many years I gave into it in a big way, watching Masterpiece Theatre every week (until we got to Love for Lydia--I couldn't do that) and reading English authors and wanting to move there and so on.

When I was 19 I spent 2 weeks in London by myself, and I saw 16 theatre shows in 14 days: Patrick Stewart in Yonadab, Anthony Hopkins in Pravda, Derek Jacobi in Mad, Bad, and Dangerous to Know. Plus I saw the original stage production of Chess (my original reason for going to London in the first place) and Les Miserables.

Here's my Derek Jacobi story: I saw his play the last night I was in London--it was a special presentation on a Monday night, not a night when theatres are usually open. After the show, I decided to get his autograph. I went around to the stage door, where I saw two lines: the line of people waiting in the cold to get Jacobi's autograph, and the line of people going into the stage door.

I knew which line I was joining.

So I got in the line going to the stage door. The line swung through Jacobi's dressing room and on to what I can only assume was the refreshments room. I stood in line and listened to a couple of chaps talk about how they really had to work together again at the BBC and start putting a deal together.

I finally made it into Jacobi's dressing room. He was standing there, very alone, no one talking to him. I stuck out my hand and said, "Thank you very much, Mr. Jacobi, it was wonderful."

He smiled, shook my hand, and said, "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

So I didn't get his autograph, but I did meet an actor who made a gigantic impression on me as an adolescent (in I, Claudius). I didn't go into the refreshments room; my boldness only goes so far. I walked back out, passed all the people in line waiting for his autograph, and went back to my hotel.

Boy, I should dig out my journal from this time and try to remember exactly what I did there. I remember a little old lady coming up to me at Buckingham Palace and asking me for directions. I could tell from her accent that she was German, and, since I'd stopped in London on my way back from a quarter in Germany, I answered her in German. She was astounded (and extremely grateful).

I remember being violently disappointed in the stage production of Chess, but I was so devoted to the recording I'd had of it (I must have listened to it a couple of thousand times) that I think any production would have been disappointing.

Now, years later, I'm wondering why I didn't hang around the stage door for Anthony Hopkins. I knew who the guy was, for crying out loud; I thought he was the cutest thing in the world in Audrey Rose (not to mention The Lion In Winter. Sigh. Live and learn, I guess.

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics

Lost less than a pound this week. However, I sense this is serious water retention (even though it's not the retention week of the month). Yesterday I weighed 135, today I weighed 137. I think this is because I drank so much water yesterday, after a long time of not drinking anywhere near my 8 glasses, so I'm retaining.

I'm drinking a lot today too--I want to get back into the swing of drinking tons of water and flushing my system. Hydration is your friend!