On the Town...West End Brilliance Aug 31

Met my friend Gilly in the West End to see "All My Sons." The sublime David Suchet and the amazing Zoe Wanamaker lead a brilliant and beautiful cast in a top notch production. I'd had some good film news earlier in the day and felt that a night away from the computer might e earned this time. I'm so glad I took Gilly up on the invite. She is David's agent. We had amazing seats and sat with David Thompson, a producer who used to run BBC Films. All in all we were in tears at the end, had a great evening and went backstage to meet the stunning Mr. Suchet. And what a treat. Not only was he gracious and kind, but we had a lovely talk. Gilly, thank you for a very inspiring night. I want to keep trying to write better and better material and would love to create something fabulous for Mr. Suchet. A girl can dream.

Locked out a london tale

Just so you know, in the movies when the person in their nightclothes goes out to the porch and the door slams and they are suddenly on the street and locked out of the house in their night clothes and you say, "Oh that is so silly it would never happen..." Well, yesterday I opened the door to put out the recycling on the porch of the townhouse. I had Dexter in my arms for some reason, and stepped onto the porch to put the recycle bin on the stoop. A gust of wind came up and slammed the door shut. I felt a bit like the bloke in "Notting Hill" who was in his underwear in front of the press corps. Fortunately we weren't hiding Julia Roberts in the house, so no paparazzi.

Well, you can imagine my thoughts. Most of them expletives deleted...

I did get back in, after much ringing of bells and tossing small stones, yes, people really do resort to pebble throwing as well, to the window of my friend's guest room where her sister was still sleeping. (The jolly Bradford family is still on the Isle of Wight. ) She eventually woke up and came down to let me in. But standing on a stoop with a little white poodle while in my pajamas on a London street, I felt rather like a chicken waiting for plucking.

But I wasn't plucked, we did get back in and I thought, next time, someone else can put the recycle bin on the porch.

Paris in the Springtime

While it is spring, in Paris, it is raining. Last week I had drinks at The Grand Hotel with my producing partner, Julia Taylor Stanley to celebrate beginning the work on "The Ambassadors." Dexter joined us for champagne in the stunning lobby. It has been an amazing time in Paris. Friday night, through the courtesy of Lorna, the incredible company manager of "Les Miserable" the cameron Macintosh company, invited me to the opening press night of the show. It is the first time Les Mis has made it to Paris in its English version. Dexter tagged along, as Dexter does, and my friends Lisa Nesselson and Vanessa Jerrom, came as well. We had a great night. The show was awesome and I loved it...can you believe this NY theatre mad girl somehow missed this shoe for the past 25 years??? A good time had by all. Another week in Paris...coming up!

Un Cafe

My downstairs neighbors are a middle eastern schwarma shop. Marcel, the manager helped me my first day when I found I didn't have the porte code to enter the stairway to my friend, Charles Henri's apartment. I had a huge Swiss Army suitcase, a duffle, a knapsack and a dog. Marcel came to my rescue by finding the Guardian (manager) of the huge and very Victor Hugoesque 18th century apartment complex. The code was procured, I punched it in a voila -- cube sweet cube -- the typical Paris apartment -- mignon, but what an address. As the guy said "Location, location, location." Heart of the 2nd, 10 minutes from everywhere I love -- Le Marais, L' Opera, rue Algiers...perfect.

So today the rain in pouring and Dexter is shoved in the shopping cart to keep his curly locks fluffy and dry. Marcel sees us coming in through the back -- their shop back lets onto the landing where I enter the porte. And today, Marcel made me un cafe -- and I don't drink coffee as a rule -- but it was lovely. I sat in this little shop and watched the swarthy neighborhood roughs come in for gyros, schwarma, un cafe and gossip.

Now I'm ready for the rest of the day. Merci Marcel