Scottish Ballet really have out done themselves with their current production of A Streetcar Named Desire. The original Tennessee Williams play is a far-cry from the usual fairytale stories or magical tales that ballet tells - Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty, The Nutcracker. 

The story of two sisters in the city of New Orleans, A Streetcar Named Desire is beautifully performed with real grit. Music is used to powerful effect from the beginning. The southern belle violin melody is a wonderful device, used to cloud Blanche’s mind with visions of her late husband. In time the melody creates a tension that clashes with the smooth jazz of New Orleans as much as Blanche clashes with Stanley, her sister’s husband.

Marking the 65th anniversary year of the playwright’s Pulitzer prize, this production is a vibrant combination of drama and dance. A fabulous diversion and a show well worth seeing, I cannot recommend it enough!

With the second instalment of BBC’s Sherlock almost upon us, there has been much discussion about the return of Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman to the Sunday night schedule.

‘A Scandel in Belgravia’ kicked off the three-part series very well, inspiring a range of critical opinion from the extremely enthusiastic Chris Harvey in The Telegraph to the entertained and grammatically sensitive Sam Wollaston with The Guardian to a begrudgingly convinced Paul Whitelaw of Scotland on Sunday.

Anyone who looks back in this blog knows that I fully appreciate the screen-writing skills of Steve Moffat and very much enjoyed the dialogue between Sherlock and Watson in Season 1. ‘A Scandal in Belgravia’ continues this trend wonderfully and has the added dynamic of Irene Adler, played entirely convincingly by Lara Pulver. Fresh from the forces of Spooked, Sherlock offered her a new platform and she comes close to stealing the show. 

Come Sunday, I’ll be all ready for the reworking of The Hound of the Baskervilles to see how the classic tale fares under the watchful eye and creative treatment of Moffat and Gatiss. As one of the most well-known of Conan Doyle’s Sherlock stories, it can either offer complete free rein or a need for faith to the original. We’ll find out soon enough.

 And if you find yourself mid-week, pining for something Moffat-esque, I recommend  you take a look at the  BBC’s Jekyll. I am not a fan of the horror genre, however this gothic-influenced drama is well orchestrated and well worth seeing. Staring James Nesbitt in the lead role and first screened back in June 2007, this six-part drama series modernises the Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde story. Don’t expect the light-hearted dialogue and snappy lines of Benedict Cumberbatch here, for Jekyll is much darker and more serious. I’d suggest keeping the lights on too.

It was snowing in Festival Theatre in Edinburgh this week!

On the rare occasion when I go to the theatre, I wonder if I’ll enjoy it and find myself walking away, thinking why I don’t go more regularly.

What with choosing between TV shows, films and books, it’s not surprising that theatre does not always get a look-in. This week though, having seen the wonderfully choreographed Matthew Bourne’s Nutcracker, I can certainly say I enjoyed it immensely.

My first meeting with the ballet was close to  eight years ago and then it was the more traditional setting of Clara and the Nutcracker journeying through her dreams when she is all the while asleep under a grand Christmas tree in her comfortable family home. 

Matthew Bourne’s Nutcracker is known for being a little different and this is entertainingly true. The children escape the rigorous confines of the grey orphanage they live in with the help of the Nutcracker. The dreamspace scenes seem to grant Bourne a limitless landscape into which he throws Clara, the Nutcracker and an array of colourful characters. It is the over-riding beauty in the dancing and the flawless choreography that told a beautifully simple tale in a wonderfully imaginative way.

I’d like to think I’ll be going to the theatre more often now. There may even be a New Year’s Resolution in there, one I’d be happy to keep.

They are coming towards me, one in front of the other. He trots along, almost skipping, with his hands behind his back. The wind blows through her hair, shaking her bun. 

Standing next to each other, grinning with anticipation, they count to three and then, jump! They are in the water. I can only assume it is cold from the sudden outcries I hear once they hit the water, one a fraction after the other.

He breathes out strongly, puffing, furiously paddling around, expelling carbon dioxide in a vain attempt to insulate his body against the cold water. They no longer feel the humidity of the day. London in September. The trees around the pool rustle as the breeze skips over the surface of the water. 

I hear a cry from the far end of the pool. She is calling out to me from the shallow end. A tiny speck of a head against a shimmering blue background. She stands up with her arms out wide and her legs straight, as if in a frozen hugging embrace. Her head falls back as she laughs. Diving forward into deeper water, she does a handstand, her legs coming out of the water in a flurry of white and blue. Her right leg hangs slightly to one side no matter how many times it tries to stay straight alongside the other. Then both are gone as she kicks off back to the shallow end, her bun bobbing from side to side.

He’s swimming lengths of the pool now. Breast stroke. He makes more noise and splashes more than the older man quietly swimming lengths about two metres from him. I’m beginning to think he doesn’t like the chlorinated water in his mouth and that his loud breathing is actually spitting. A precautionary measure against chemical intruders.

The wind feels colder than before, though I’ve been sitting still. They’re warmer than me, and in less clothing too.  

They’ve both returned to the deep end now. Leaning on the side of the pool with their arms folded over the side, they grin at me. He does a split handstand. She pulls herself up to sit on the side. Sitting at an angle, the right side of her face is angled towards me. A quick smile is exchanged. His eyes watch his hands, his legs form a ‘V’ shape stretched out at odd angles. His body slowly tips towards the smooth unbroken surface of the water. He disappears under a cloud of white spray. We both clap loudly. 

A short story of three friends, one quiet afternoon in the park. 

With a transient existence comes less time on the internet. So surprisingly my latest musical discovery was actually made in person and entirely by chance. And all I did was ask to borrow a pen…

The Curious Incident have introduced me to a different side to music that might have passed me by otherwise. Afro / Latin / Rock is as intriguing as it suggests. The band clearly draw inspiration from Muse, Incubus and Queens of the Stone Age amongst others. As their website states their sound has a “slightly off-beat flamboyance” and is tempered with, as put by founding member and vocalist Kyle Roberts, “enough mainstream appeal so as not to alienate the larger audience.”

So if you do anything this weekend, visit their site and listen to ‘Emphasis on Paralysis’, their latest song. And if you live in London get to their last couple of gigs before they head off to warmer climates in the Southern Hemisphere on a South African tour.

Social effects of adulthood have been discussed widely this week following changes to regulations regarding sexualised imagery in advertising and smoking in films. The argument behind these changes being one we know well - children are impressionable and copy actions of others unaware of consequences. This revolving door is ongoing. In a media-driven world, we are constantly reminded of a need to protect children. Zoe Williams was right to point out in the Guardian this week that this protection has reached unmanageable heights. It is impossible to maintain a sweet, innocent environment for children while living in a hyper-sexualised individualised one for adults. Children don’t just live in the same homes as their parents but the same world.

It is realistic to consider that the boundary between these ‘worlds’ is wearing thin and tactics need to change. Caitlin Moran appears to offer one possible alternative. Her comedic writing and frank opinions speak for themselves and she clearly brings this to her children. 

Only a week ago she tweeted: 

‘Designing “proper” Barbies with the kids: monobrows, big arses and feet you can stand on. Satisfying.’17/09/2011 13.03

‘Eavie is listing what she would like manufactured for Barbie: “Fat belly, school uniform, transvestite, coffins. I always have funerals.”’ 17/09/2011 13.37

Rather than denying children access to imagery that they will undoubtedly come across, Ms Moran appears to have taken the beautifully simple tactic of changing the focus.

It is not about how sexualised Barbie and other figures are looked at and scrutinised but rather how unrealistic it all is. Eavie has learnt the fantastic lesson - that the world and people can be wrong. I can only wish I’d learnt this sooner myself. I applaud such a method. Hopefully we’ll be seeing many more fat Barbies and a transvestite Barbie. Oh, what an outfit she could have, or should I say a wardrobe full! 

As I have avidly mentioned before, writing is a skill. From popular TV, I find myself rediscovering wonderful modern writing in short stories, novels and blogs. There is the idle joy of the internet, overturning new pages and devouring directions, opinions and recommendations. 

And this brings me to Tor.com. I have been a fan of fantasy novels since I was very young, taking trips to the library every week with my sisters. Tor.com and their wonderfully knowledgeable staff of bloggers give me heaps of fantasy reading, and I have an ever increasing list of new stories and worlds to dive into. They have reignited my faith in the fantasy genre and the offerings for readers in for the long haul, those who love falling head first into another world.

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell is just one example of a novel that caused a whirlwind of honours and awards. Years later, after the dust has settled, the writing of Suzanne Johnson is a treasure of a find. 

So I’m off to do a bit of reading. I’ll be in Faerie if anyone asks…

The time has been and gone! Edinburgh Fringe was a whirlwind month, kicking off amidst an atmosphere of excitement and anticipation, and it wasn’t because of the humidity.

From dialogue-free dancing to one-man performances of Shakespeare, I had great fun over a month of heavy rain and warm sunshine. Writing for ThreeWeeks was a fantastic job. The shows I’ll remember are The Man Who Was Hamlet, Tomboy Blues and The Artisan, and many more. Check them all out here on ThreeWeeks.

All reviews of shows seen by the review team are fully accessible. There is also the ThreeWeeks eDaily podcast available to play online or download. 

Anyone who hasn’t experienced the Fringe, I can’t recommend it enough!