11.6 Hell

Travelling on the bus to school today, I sat and talked with Tina. It was a pleasant experience, although the atmosphere is far from conducive to conversation – lack of privacy is one thing, because I know that people who say nothing, hear what others say, willy-nilly.
A strange feeling in the sense that I would have regarded the time ripe to ask that question, but I am not, so this is a purely hypothetical drift.
As I will be in Hell for the weekend, I wrung the last drop of enjoyment from today, reading a nice weight of ‘King John’ in the evening – a play which, partly because of the intense patriotism expressed in some passages, has great appeal for me. I don’t find the terms communist – internationalist – patriotic contradictory.
Saw a film rendering of ‘Who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf?’, a play which hits me somewhere – I don’t know (or possibly don’t want to know?) where, but it hurts. A very good play, but I find it shattering to read. Apart from a few discrepancies with the text, the Burton-Taylor version was very good. Honey was superbly casted and acted, although could be construed as attractive, when is meant to be ‘plain’. Nick, I didn’t like, mainly because he didn’t fit into the mental image I had of him from reading.