Today, as I trust you well know, is Shakespeare's birthday. In honor of the esteemed birthday guy (and because admittance was free today), Sal and I wandered over to Shakespeare's Globe Theatre and partook of some gay frivolity. Shakespeare's Globe is a stone's throw from my residence hall, on the South Bank of the Thames. It is a meticulous reconstruction of the original theater, a true work of art and historical anal retentiveness.
On this 18th day of April, a perfect spring day, there were hoards of Shakespeare fans (and free admittance fans) streaming through the Theatre. There is much to see and touch in the museum (old fabric, swords, helmets) and tiny booths in which you can record your part in some scene from A Midsummer Night's Dream and other plays. (Sal plays an excellent Lysander. Who knew?) The theater itself is more impressive than it looks in pictures, with pure oak beams forming a polygonal hug around a large stage.
I am looking forward to taking in a bloody show, perhaps Macbeth or Henry VIII. Like the modern-day peasants we are, Sal and I plan to stand in the crowd and throw tomatoes.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SHAKESPEARE! You old dog, you.
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