London’s my city. Always has been and (I hope) always will. I’m a grandchild of immigrants, and grandchild too of a rootless, vicious century which has played havoc with the idea of home. Home is where you are for now. Home is where you hope you’ll stay, but you don’t count on it. I don’t suppose I’m the only person to keep a mental suitcase under the bed – if I had to, what would I take, where … [Read more...]
David Jays on theatre and dance
An ArtsJournal Blog