Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

My remaining wisdom teeth are hurting. They keep waking me up in the middle of the night, and this morning I went to the dentist who said they are slightly infected and that the pain is not coming from where they are pushing through the gum (as I had thought) but from the infection that has crept under the skin: they are 'partially erupted' like a half-hearted volcano, leaving me open to evil outside contamination. So now I'm on anti-biotics, the ones that make you feel sick anyway, but if you drink alcohol, are guaranteed to make you vom. So that's fun. Five days without booze. January just took a turn for the worse. Poor me.

Yesterday was good though. I met up with Ses after work and we had a nice drink in the National bar, and then she left to go to the cinema and Grania arrived and we watched Our Class. When I book tickets for something, it's genuinely a fairly impulsive decision. I don't read reviews or previews, as I'm exceptionally easily-led in terms of theatre and film and, once I've embraced an opinion, tend not to be able to see or search for anything else. When it comes to the National Theatre, I don't think I've ever seen a bad production there (ones I've not enjoyed, yes, but actual wastes of money? No.), so I read a sentence or two about the plot, and then if I'm tickled, I book. I bought the seats to Our Class about four or five months ago, and when I went in last night, all I could remember is that it was something to do with Poland.

It was probably the most effective account of the events surrounding WWII that I've ever seen. Ten adult actors start off as school children in pre-war Poland, and we follow their lives for the next eight decades or so. Some are Jews, some are not. It was moving, instructive, horrifying and profound, and the use of modern dialogue and the lack of any attempt at Polish accents was particularly effective, giving the production a timelessness that was chilling. And the breadth of the play, something that would have been over-dramatized on film, was extraordinary - using the same actors for characters aged from primary school children to OAPs, without any changes in costume or make-up, no sets, the only props limited to ten wooden schoolchairs... it was minimalist but the script's scope and conviction left us all stricken. Understandably, Holocaust films often focus on the war years alone, but this play took the audience from twenty years before to fifty years after, leaving us in no doubt that the effects of the war are still being felt today. Lest we forget. Brilliant theatre, not perfect but highly recommended, £10 restricted view seats upstairs more than adequate. Go go go. Oh. I've just been to the NT website to get you your hyperlink and it turns out that last night was the end of the run. Sorry. You'll have to take my word for it. I'll try to give you more notice next time.

Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.