text: Glenys Kinnock is at ease, which is represented by her casual clothing and she looks with pride and tenderness at her husband. In contrast, Neil Kinnock looks at the viewer with a slight regret and puzzlement and wearing a red jumper reminder of his socialist roots. At the side is a fragment of a picture which shows Neil and Glenys under the words people and the rose which symbolised Kinnock’s years with the Labour party. Is it significant that the image is in black and white symbolising the past and what the Labour Party was?
  Going to see Priscilla Queen of the Desert is more than going to see a show it is about taking part in an experience. You can take in your champagne and pop the cork, order an interval cocktail or buy a fake pink feather boa to display through the show. As you enter the auditorium you are confronted with a large (phallic) lipstick and Australia represented as lips. Yes this sets the tone of what is a loud, bright, entertaining and feel good afternoon/evening full of one line jokes and sexual innuendo.
  Priscilla adopts a pantomime structure to construct narrative. I say this, not just because men dress up as women, but in the way the production builds on small episodes which reflect each other. The three drag queens (Jason Donovan, Oliver Thornton and Tony Sheldon) leave the safe domesticity (Sydney) for the journey into the unknown (the Australian bush) to confront the baddies. As well as journeying, there’s also a quest. Tick/Mitzi (Jason Donovan) has to get to Alice Springs in a battered old bus to meet his son Benji. Each scene is a variation of the one before, but more sparkle and glamour and then there is the big finale and everyone lives happily ever after. There’s even the moment, in most pantomimes, where the audience get on the stage and join in. There’s the in jokes, particulary when it comes to a mention of the Austrailian soap Neighbours and Kylie. We get a sense of Kylie’s career, but also how far Jason Donovan has moved on, even though, it felt that, he still looks the same as he did when he was Scott Robinson.
  There was an additional moment of excitement when I saw Priscilla and the mechanics broke down after Oliver Thornton was performing Follie! Delirio Vano E Questo! and Sempre Libera on top of a Jewel encrusted stiletto shoe which was positioned on the roof of tour bus. He was stuck up there for longer than he should. There was a bit of ad libbing and they got him down in the end.
  As part of the experience it had to end with a standing ovation. Great songs, spectacular costumes and lot a glitz and glamour. It felt like a day off.
  
  New York Times editor gets scorched online for tweeting her 'chills' at Biden's arrival in Maryland - Beyond Patriots Membership Portal
  An editor at the New York Times faced online condemnation and ridicule after she tweeted that she had gotten "chills" from seeing that President-elect Joe Biden had landed in Maryland just ahead of Inauguration Day.
  "Biden landing at Joint Base Andrews now. I have chills," Lauren Wolfe said in a tweet with a screenshot of a report from CNN showing Biden's plane landing.
  Wolfe responded to his tweet and claimed that she had merely been expressing excitement over the historical importance of the transition of presidential power.
  "Really, Brit? You've never felt excited at historical moments? Stop inciting your fans who are coming after me with threats. This was an innocuous tweet and you know it," she replied.
  Wolfe also responded to another critic who tweeted, "A journalist having 'chills' before a president is even sworn in is chilling... Not in your sense of the word, though."
  "I'm shocked that you all don't feel the importance. Such historical events are deeply moving and thrilling. This attempt to s**t on me is nothing more than shortsighted presumption," she responded.
  "So a bunch of people think me being excited for the transfer of power tomorrow is somehow disgusting/idiotic/against journalism. It's a shame. We should all be interested on historical moments," she added.
  "You are a biased hack. Were those chills present in 2016? Or were you too busy foaming at the mouth to have chills?" said one respondent.
  "Nothing wrong with being excited about Trump being gone or Biden being sworn in. But, given your *job*, you're not supposed to say it out loud or make it super obvious. Makes you look like a cheerleader, not a reporter. Tell your friends," responded another user.
  "So, Ben Shapiro attacked one of my tweets a few days ago, despite the fact that I blocked him years ago. Now Brit Hume has sicced his followers on me (based on nothing), so I have to wonder: Is there some gross organizing to come after journalists they think are not objective?" she asked.
  Biden and Vice President-elect Kamala Harris are set to be sworn in at noon EST Wednesday on the west front of the Capitol, in a ceremony with about 1,000 attendees, including Congress.
  President Donald Trump said unequivocally that he would not be attending the inauguration Wednesday of his successor.
  
  I like the blog idea, it's a great way to share thoughts, advice and feelings on potential do's and dont's in regards to a dogs training and health! I think your a great dog/owner trainer and a lot of people can benefit from your advice!! Keep them coming as i will be reading them!
  
  The stairwell echoed with the ungainly clump of her footsteps. Her weathered walking boots with unmatched knotted and frayed laces were far too hot and heavy for summer – even with the flow of air offered through various holes – and these last few weeks had been sweltering. Her feet were hot and clammy; a blister had formed where the back rubbed her heel. Whenever she removed her socks layers of skin flaked away. Her feet, more than any other part of her body, disgusted her. Between her toes were signs of an infection. She’d tried talking to the chemist in Boots down The Marsh, but he wanted to see her feet. Her embarrassment overcame her discomfort, so she left without showing him. But these boots were the only footwear she possessed. Flip Flops she thought. Or those plastic sandals. What were they called? Jellies. Silly name. They were cheap. She should store these bloody boots somewhere; or better still get rid of them so her feet could heal in the sun and air.
  Her clothes, which had long since lost any of their original colour and shape, stuck to some parts of her body and hung from others. Beneath her skirt, the flesh at the top of her thighs was rubbed raw. There were times when she wished she could peel off her skin and start again. In the depths of night when no one could see her, she wept. Tears were sometimes the only liquid to touch her face for days on end. A caress no person would give.
  She paused at the second landing, breathing heavily. The smells of leftover food wafted over from the waste disposal chute with its ornate black front, which never completely closed on what had been thrown into it. Lucy wondered if anyone ever cleaned it. Her mother used to. Not here, but in the similar block of 1930s flats they had lived in nearby. Her mother had scrubbed the steps as well. The steps she used to run up two at a time in her eagerness to get home. How long ago was that? Too long ago to think about. A lifetime ago.
  On the third floor she rested against the wall, rubbing her hand, sticky from the balustrade, on her skirt. One more bit of dirt wouldn’t show. She stared out over the sun-dappled square. Everywhere looked so much better in the sunshine. Strangely, there was no one around. No kids on skateboards. No dealers loitering in the shadows. No one screaming obscenities from an open window. An enormous ginger cat, balancing precariously on a window ledge, stared at her disdainfully for a moment then carried on with his meticulous grooming. Everywhere seemed still and quiet. Unnaturally so. Maybe the heat had sucked out the energy from the residents.
  She continued her climb, gripping the rail. Panting she reached the fourth floor and wiped her sleeve across her brow. The fabric was stiff with sweat and snot and heaven knows what else. God, she needed a wash. She remembered the public baths in Wells Street. A luxury now closed. She shook the memory away as she hobbled along the walkway to number 39 and banged loudly on the door. Harry was going deaf but claimed he heard her footsteps coming even when he couldn’t hear the knocking on the door. Not that they seemed to have alerted him this time.