"Life is so daily," says a character in a play of mine, "Why can't I get used to it?"

Also inexorable.

Much as you have lived in one day, if you survived, you have another day to live today, and tomorrow. And so on. And on.

So, HAMLET was yesterday. If this is Thursday it must be tomorrow and different things will happen today. But I have to assimilate yesterday first. Well, for starters, Hamlet was wonderful, that is, Jonathan Goad as Hamlet was wonderful, one of the better ones I have ever seen. I think The Birmingham Conservatory has paid off, the training lab at Stratford, directed by Martha Henry, that has taught actors to speak and not to recite Shakespeare. Goad, I see, was a member of the Conservatory in 1993. He is Hamlet, living in the moment, and speaking, reacting, swiftly and emotionally and of course, physically, to what is going on around him, and us. Brilliant.

I would like someone to explain to me the costume design. It seemed inconsistent but I'm sure the designer and director had reasons for their choices. A small cavil.

So this morning I read about Benedict Cumberbatch who is in rehearsal now for a limited (12 week) engagement to play HAMLET at the National Theatre. People from all over the world are buying, have bought, tickets, even some in India who have not yet secured their Visas to come to England.

Do not despair. National Theatre Live will be broadcasting a performance in October. I will be very interested to see it and obviously I am not alone in my desire.

As I have told you, I have seen so many productions of the play that I have long since lost count, beginning with my high school's production in which the role of Laertes was played (convincingly) by the school's basket ball star. I have seen the Gravediggers' Scene played in another amateur production that illustrated Shakespeare's consummate genius: that he could create actor-proof material that reaches beyond its human transmitters to reach the heart and humour of its audience.

Martha Henry was my definitive Ophelia, for all time. She was also my definitive Cordelia, and also my definitive Lady MacDuff. ("Now, God help thee, poor monkey!/But how wilt thou do for a father? ") There are no small parts, as they say.

Yes, well, I do go on, and could, for a long time. Well, and i've quoted Scarlett before: "Tomorrow is another day." And it's already tomorrow. Have a good one.

This is about HAMLET. I've lost count of the number of times I have seen it. You know the old story about the boss who took his young secretary (professional assistant?) to see it and when it was over, he asked her how she liked it. "Fine," she said, "but it was full of clichés." Scholars have counted the number of words in Shakespeare's plays that he invented or coined, that didn't exist before. Astronomical. Mind-boggling. How did they live without them ? How could we live now without them?

When I go on a diet, which is like, constantly, I say, "Oh that this too too solid flesh would thaw, melt and resolve itself into a dew..." If I got some of that wrong, you can correct me, do us both good. When I procrastinate and put off what I am resolved to do, should be doing, I say, "And thus, the native hue of resolution is sullied o'er with the pale cast of thought." When we went to see the Royal Barges in what country? - that I will have to look up - I found myself murmuring Enobarbus's speech about the infinite allure of Cleopatra, remember, I quoted it in my blog then. It begins: "The barge she sat in like a burnished throne...."

Of course, I say anon, anon all the time. Once it meant presently or immediately but now it means in a while. "Anon, anon, sir." I'm coming.

Golden lads and lasses must/As chimney sweepers come to dust." It sounds like Housman, but it's Shakespeare. On the other hand, "Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive" sounds like Shakespeare but is really Sir Walter Scott. I looked up the golden-lads line because I wondered at chimney sweepers -- could that be right? It is. And I found a whole list of lines that have been attributed to Shakespeare and were actually said by someone else, like my title above. I have always known it was Elizabeth Barrett Browning, but apparently Shakespeare often gets the credit.

So today, as I said, I am going to listen to the immortal bard once more. Anon, anon, sir.