Andrew maintains Phil makes little sense anyway so there’s not much in the way of sense to be deprived of.
But the chance to see eleven deaf-blind actors telling eleven stories and baking bread in a performance that has been two years in the making seemed intriguing.
And since Andrew was at home, er, baking bread (Yes, really! In a breakmaker! How suburban!) and unwilling to face the long, cold trail to The Arts Depot, Phil was despatched solo.
Oh, and Phil’s long-gestating “Food-On-Stage” thesis had been gathering dust on the same shelf as his Petite Typewriter for too long of late. How could he resist? Read the rest of this entry »
