Sunshine and vaginas

It’s been a lovely, hot day. I spent a fair chunk of it sitting in my suntrap of a yard, doing a bit of writing and work. Then I made a cuppa and went back out with the latest Paris Review and a parasol that I bought at the music festival last year, so that I could be warm but not burn. It was far and away the most pretentious thing I’ve ever done, I think, and I can be really fecking pretentious.

Pleasant, though, sitting in the sun and reading an interview with Matthew Weiner who, it turns out, is a poet and playwright, not just genius inventor of Mad Men.

It’s been a long week, riddled with the Evil Headache That Won’t Leave (except it mostly has, now).

On Thursday night we went to see a performance of the Vagina Monologues, held on the Tattershall Castle. The Tattershall Castle is a boat. Not a castle. The girlfriend of a friend of ours was in the play, and I’ve read the monologues but never seen them performed, so thought it would be interesting to see (and also nice to support our friends). Coffee Monster came along.

Unfortunately, we don't have anything like this in London. Also, fun fact: if you google 'vagina castle' you get a lot of pictures of Pikachu. Can anyone explain that?
Unfortunately, we don’t have anything like this in London. It’s more of a palace place Also, fun fact: if you google ‘vagina castle’ you get a lot of pictures of Pikachu. Can anyone explain that?

It was a good show, with the intros making connections to more recent years – quite important for a political show written about 15 years ago. Some of the monologues held up well – others felt dated. Which doesn’t make them irrelevant or unimportant – it’s crucial not to forget what things were like for women pre-Internet, pre-Sex and the City and orgasm as casual conversation. But it was still difficult to relate to, which I guess makes me lucky.

The performances were great, though. Special shout-outs to My Vagina Was My Village, which had me crying, and The Woman Who Loved to Make Vaginas Happy, which was hilarious and noisy and I’d love to know if the people in the bar above us could hear her orgasm impressions.

The only downside was the temperature of the room. It rapidly grew unbearably hot. Within ten minutes I went from being annoyed at how loud the air conditioning was to being really pleased that we were sat so close to it. A few people left, and I’m pretty sure it was related to the heat rather than the performance. Although the bulk of the leavers left during Reclaiming Cunt, so it’s possible some folks were offended by that one.

It’s worth seeing the show, if you never have, though the overall effect of the play (and this was a truncated version) can leave you feeling in the words of one person (who shall remain nameless) ‘like [you] just got slapped around the face by a giant vagina’. A small price to pay to support the end of violence against women – being slapped by a giant vagina will definitely make you sit up and pay attention.


Writing news: I had word yesterday that a story has been shortlisted for an issue of a lit mag, which is nice to hear. Fingers crossed it gets through to print, but it’s good to know it’s made it as far as the shortlist at least.

Writing news #2: In case you missed it, mid-week I put up a poem for Mental Health Awareness week, which ended today. You can see it here.

Writing news #3: I have been tagged to take part in a Blog Hop blog tour, so there’ll be another entry tomorrow for that.

Running/tri news: 10k next week, tri the week after, and I think I can struggle round though it won’t be my best. Should be fun though, which is the point of any event I do this year.

And on that note, I’m signing off. I turn 32 tomorrow. I have contemplation of aging to be getting on with, and episodes of The West Wing to watch.

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