In preparation for Sir Ian this evening, I've returned to my bilingual edition of
Waiting for Godot. Becket has taken on a whole new persona since I read the
Nora biography by Brenda Maddox. Apparently James Joyce and Nora's daughter fell madly in love in Beckett when she met him at her parents' apartment in Paris.
Anyway, this one lean, economical and thoroughly fascinating play and I can't wait to see it performed for the first time.It was almost enough to distract me on the bus this morning from the foul-odoured person who sat next to me, full body contact for most of the trip.
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