I’ll find myself in the office, at about 4pm, wondering whether I should go and see something at the theatre, looking online for availability that same evening, especially as the night draws darker and earlier. The good thing about going solo – which I mostly do – is that there is often a seat free, and discounted. I never plan ahead. I am lucky enough to live 20 minutes from the best productions in the world. Browse; book; bus. The true joy is a play without an interval. Last year, the television writer Steven Moffat called for an end to intervals, which as an opinion earns a standing ovation from me. Intervals are rubbish: they disrupt the narrative; the toilet queues ribbon around the stairwells (I often just go to the men’s: discuss); and my fellow audience members are excruciatingly slow in leaving and returning to their seats (I thought I saw Vince Cable at the theatre once, and then realised that every single person at the theatre looks like Vince Cable). Intervals are getting longer and longer, too, like Peter Jackson films. We need a break from intervals. We probably won’t get one, because the venues need the revenue … Continue reading True pleasure is a play without an interval