u/AromaticVacation3077

That's all I want to say really. It's something I think about often and I thought this sub would be a good place to say it. In Of Course But Maybe Louis spells out the bottom line - the only way to make a positive impact on the world is through your own actions. Show me your faith without deeds and I will show you my faith by my deeds. That's it - that's all there is.

I'm tired of battling with my plastic food container cupboard. Everything's mismatched and everything gets piled up on top of everything else. Half the time when I open the cupboard door all the plastic food containers tumble out on to the floor like a plastic food container avalanche. Every now and then my partner has had enough of all the crashing and swearing and 'tidies up' the plastic food container cupboard. But all that means is he puts the little containers inside the big containers, and next time I need a plastic food container guess which it's going to be, little or big? That's right, it's a big one, so all the little ones have to get emptied out again and it's back to utter chaos in there.

Who out there can confidently say they are the master of their plastic food container cupboard, and if so, how do you do it? Because it's got to the point where I'd rather just throw left overs in the recycling than face my plastic food container cupboard.

First time posting here, but I need to share something I feel very alone in.

I'm really interested in theatre, and here in London there's new play that's caused a sensation - 1536 by Ava Pickett. The reviews are solid raves and friends who've seen it keep telling me how wonderful it is. I can't afford a ticket, so I thought I'd read the play in stead (I read a lot of plays).

1536 focuses on three female friends who live in rural England during the trial of Anne Boleyn. As they hear news about Boleyn coming from London, a culture of misogyny grows in their community, resulting in catastrophe for the women at the end of the play.

I was depressed by reading 1536. It seems to me an explicitly misandrist play. The women openly fantasise about a world without men - "I have this dream - imagine if men didn't exist - maybe it would be better - I'd see less pain and blood - I'd hear the birds more and look at the ground less if men weren't around - wouldn't it be great? - no marriages - no sex - just us women". In another scene one of the woman experiences a kind of liberation when her friend persuades her to call her husband a cunt. 'THE MEN' are referred to only as something to fear - 'Careful, THE MEN will hear you' 'Something is happening to THE MEN' 'THE MEN are coming' etc. Ultimately the women's bond with each other is broken, the explicit message being that patriarchy makes it impossible for women to support each other.

I do not question historical accuracy in the play. I doubt the 16th century was a wonderful time to be a woman. But the thing with this play is that the reviews and reaction seem to have unanimously mentioned its 'contemporary relevance'. The review in The Independent says the play "pulls the past into the present with unflinching clarity... 1536 isn't just a period piece, it's a call to arms" - and that's a typical reaction. The suggestion that the play is intended as contemporary commentary is in the play itself. When discussing how to deal with domestic violence (inevitably one of the characters is beaten by her husband) one character remarks "I guess the trick is to figure out what made him hit you and not do it again", to which her friend replies "Was it always like this? Will it always be like this?", the heavy implication being that it's still very much like this.

Such sentiments are not wrong in drama - drama is there to express difficult ideas and to expose oppression and injustice. But here the overall message is explicitly 'Men = monsters', and there is not one word of an opposing view to challenge this. There are two male characters, but one is completely ineffectual, and the other is a manipulative, abusive predator who's only observations on women are idiotic, ie 'They get in our heads and make us do things'. The play takes aim squarely at men, and makes zero effort to present any kind of balanced point of view.

I can find not one critical voice challenging the ideas presented in this enormously successful play, and it's made me question my own reaction. Am I taking this too seriously? Losing my sense of right and wrong? Has anyone seen this play? Americans take note - 1536 is so successful in London a Broadway transfer is likely.

I do a little bit. I liked standing on the bendy bit in the middle, and I liked the little sigh they made for some reason. I also liked being able to get on and off any door, it was so relaxed. It seemed like there was also more room for buggies and wheelchairs etc, neither of which I use, but it made things a bit easier for everyone. I know there were all kinds of reasons they were phased out, and I'm not saying they should come back, but does anyone else look back at them with at least a small degree of fondness? Or am I just being a big Contrary Mary?

My question is really this - People who are advanced at Sudoku, do you just 'see' hidden triples without having to work them out mechanically? I find them, but I have to go through the whole puzzle looking for them. It's a laborious process that feels like hard work rather than fun. Am I at the stage where I've just reached my limit in terms of talent for sudoku solving? More advanced players, do you just 'see' hidden triples in an instinctive way? I never see them - I always have to work them out. :-(

I've baked quite a lot of tarts and whatnot in my time, and I've got to the stage where I can more or less make a basic fruit tart or a quiche or whatever without a recipe. But something I still get confused about is when I need to blind bake and when I don't.

My pastry bible is Roux Snr's 'Pastry', and even in that book he includes an apricot tart where he does blind bake, and a very similar greengage tart where he doesn't. So my question is -

What are the rules or guidelines that tell me if I should be blind baking or not?

Just watched the special last night. Yes OK it's not vintage Louis, but he still makes me laugh out loud in an easy way no other living comedian can. If you weren't aware of how great he's been in the past, this special would still be better than many other comedians currently at their peak.

Despite constantly making references to how old he is, Louis is only 58 - not really all that old. He shouldn't be running out of steam just yet. George Carlin was absolutely blistering right into his late 60s. I think we could see another truly great special from Louis before his time is up.

I'll start (go with me on this) -

Shirley Bassey. Shirley's and Thom's skillsets cross over way more than you may initially imagine. Here's the track listing:

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Planet Telex

Life In A Glass House

Staircase

Optimistic

You And Who's Army?

Spectre

15 Step

Dollars And Cents

All I Need

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What would be your fantasy entire album of covers by an artist who would cover a number of tracks to make an entire album?

I think it would be great if regional UK cuisines were better known and had more individuality. Maybe some already do but people just don't know enough about them? What would it take for the UK regions to become better known for the different foods they produce and like to eat in their area? What could we do to encourage regional food culture?

Sorry I didn't have my phone with me so no photo, but today I walked past a field that contained around 20 normal looking sheep and 5 strange probably-sheep-but-I-can't-be-sure. They were the size and colour of regular adult sheep with patchy straggly wool. But their heads were twice the size of the other sheep - very broad and more like a cow's. Their bodies were chunky and heavy and their skin was wrinkly in places like a shar pei. From a distance they might have been small bulls or even pigs. They had male genitalia. They did not look well - a couple had swellings on their faces, one had a pink sore, and another was walking with a limp. What did I see?

Edit - thank you for all these great replies. They did look like these weird-ass texel sheep, but the big head disease also makes a lot of sense given they all looked like youngish rams who'd gone six rounds with each other.

I'm very familiar with Spielberg's Jaws (1975) having seen it several times on tv. I consider it a master work of its genre (whatever that genre is?) So when I noticed a local cinema was showing a one off matinee I booked a ticket. It was a very sunny Friday afternoon and four people, including me, had turned up for the showing. Here are my takeaways from seeing Jaws on the big screen for the first time (things that were new to my experience of the film or that I hadn't fully appreciated before). This is going to be a bit of a flow of consciousness.

The biggest revelation was the many town scenes in the first half. I hadn't fully appreciated how masterfully constructed they are. Often extremely busy and chaotic, Spielberg exploits the full width of the frame to include fore, mid, and background, building layers of action. And somehow the careful choreography always leads the eye and the ear to the important information. It's technically brilliant, and at the same time has a very natural flow to it. It powerfully communicates the character of the town - an expert piece of world building. Knowing the story well (and so unable to experience the intense feelings of anxiety Spielberg provokes), these town scenes were the most engaging aspect of the film for me.

The ferry scene is a lesson in story telling. No joke - in the theatre this was my favourite scene in the film. It's when Brody hops on a ferry to travel across the bay and we meet the mayor and his fellow suits for the first time. For starters the scene is in one take - I'm not sure how long, possibly 2 minutes? The camera doesn't pan, it simply moves backwards once, and then again. Brody, the mayor and the two other men begin the scene filling the left half of the frame. As the camera moves the actors step towards it, but one stays behind each time so that by the second move only Brody and the mayor remain in the foreground. With each movement the actors end up closer to the camera and further into the centre of the frame. As the dialogue gets more serious, more coercive, more ominous, the blocking becomes closer, more intimate, more intense. All the while, as the movement of the scene remains linear, the sky and shore revolve around them - it's a straight line within a circle. On top of all this, the actors are required to time the scene to exactly coincide wth the departure of the ferry and its arrival on the other pier. They nail it (how many takes I wonder?). It's just a thrilling set piece, and an example of what an extraordinary energy and life Spielberg can bring to an otherwise perfunctory bit of story telling.

Robert Shaw is awesome. The cast of Jaws are all great, but in the theatre I saw Shaw's performance as Quint in a new light. He's magnetic, charismatic, and absolutely nails the salty old sea dog bit while never letting it slip into parody. He makes total sense of an arc that requires him to do random illogical things like smash up the radio or start singing during a shark attack. Amazing job.

The people who complain about the fake shark have a point. I'd always defended the shark in Jaws, claiming it was convincingly realistic throughout. In the theatre, not so much. Especially towards the end of the film, the shark grows increasingly rubber. In Spielberg's defence, by the time the shark goes full Jim Henson we're already so locked into the story our disbelief could be suspended to almost any ridiculous degree. I was sitting close to a woman who was clearly seeing the film for the first time, and believe me, the rubber shark did not detract from her engagement with it.

TLDR: Saw Jaws in a theatre. The 'town' scenes are amazing. The ferry scene is masterful and a highlight of the film. Robert Shaw is awesome. The shark is not very convincing towards the end.

I absolutely adore the score for Pacific Overtures. Most people would agree this is peak Sondheim writing at the height of his creative genius. To go from Night Music to this..... Sondheim is simply the boss.

I've never seen the show live, but years ago I read the book by John Weidman. I remember it as engaging and compelling, cleverly written, inventive, and overall a satisfying theatrical experience. Even on the page I found the ending thrilling.

So it's always with some confusion I find I'm unable to sit through the recording of the original Broadway show. Frankly I find it flat and dull. Turns out that, for me, just sitting with the book and the cast recording is a better time than watching this production on film. I've been wondering why.

What do you think of Prince's contribution to this production? It strikes me that some of the directorial decisions don't work.

Generally the staging is pushed up to one flat plane downstage. I know the set design won a Tony, but there's something energy-sapping about this lack of depth - something that looks almost amateur.

The heightened vocal delivery (inspired by Japanese theatre, I know) quickly loses its novelty and becomes a drag. Everything feels slow and deliberate - nothing is thrown away. It's exhausting. The cast don't look like they enjoy it much either. Generally speaking there seems to be pacing issues with this production. Pauses are just too long, delivery is just too laboured.

Then there are odd things. Adding a dance section to Next is, in my opinion, disastrous. It ruins the momentum of what should be an absolutely spine tingling finale.

I'm starting to think my issue with this production has nothing to do with the piece itself, but with the direction. What do you think?

The past six months or so I've come to realise I'm crippled with shame and have been my whole life. I feel like it's extreme (I don't go out, no job, etc). For a long time I thought I must be autistic, but that never sat right with me honestly. I'm pretty sure it's shame. I read Patricia DeYoung's book about shame, which was interesting but very much written for therapists (I didn't realise when I bought it). But DeYoung's book did suggest some reasons therapy has never made much of an impact on me in the past. She recommends relational therapy. I'm wondering, does anyone have experience of treating chronic shame in therapy? And if anyone has gone to a relational therapist with this problem, how did it go?

I like making sourdough baguettes at home, but unlike other kinds of bread I make they're really best to eat around 5 minutes out the oven. They don't keep very well in the bread bin, so I usually freeze what don't eat on day one. They defrost and crisp up again in the oven OK, but they're never as good as freshly baked. What is the correct stage to freeze the baguettes? Freshly made dough / first proof / shaping / second proof / first bake / second bake (I do a 10 minute steam bake first at very high heat, then transfer to cooler dry oven for 15) - at what stage should baguettes be frozen?

Myself and a few people I know have all reported the same thing today - a feeling of physical fatigue and a strong urge to just lay down and rest. I feel like a puppet with its strings cut. I get days like this in the warm weather, and I notice the pollen count is high today - I have wondered if it's an allergic reaction. I'm interested to hear if others have felt like this today? Pollen you think?

I never try to find out what Radiohead songs are actually about, so over the years certain songs have taken on their own meanings personal to me. They work a groove into your mind and one day you realise you hear a whole story in them, even though it's probably not the one the band intended.

Example: Reckoner.

I know this guy who likes to argue that popular music was invented by black culture. He told me to watch this BBC documentary about Radiohead that claimed Radiohead's music is more black influenced than white. I really strongly disagree with this as I think popular music as we know it is an amazing mix of European music theory and African rhythmic energy. It's a beautiful collaboration that we should celebrate (in my opinion). Ultimately I think labels like 'white music' and 'black music' are reductive, but that said, when I listen to Reckoner it seems to me to be a great example of both. The drums and syncopation and the sliding blues note of the verse have to have black roots, and the intense romance of the chord progression in the midsection can only come from Europe. And the two are amazing together - they're transcendent and it depresses me that someone would want to separate them out and reduce them to labels. One day I was thinking about this and listening to Reckoner and I heard - 'Because we separate like ripples on a blank shore'. And that's what the song is about to me now. The Reckoner - who I always thought of as an angel that comes at the end of times - has arrived because we separate ourselves from each other, forgetting that human thriving exists when we remain together. The ripples that come together catch the sunlight and create rainbows, and that's where we find beauty in the world. The 'distractor' is, to me, the internet and social media, such a driving force of division. But we are not to blame - Reckoner isn't a song of judgement or condemnation, it's an absolution at the end of times.

What's your favourite example of a Radiohead song you have your own private interpretation of that's probably comically inaccurate but you're happy with it that way?

Emma Bovary is a damaged, superficial, narcissistic whack job. Is he comparing Carm to her? Because that's an insult.