Thinking AloudEnglish Blog

I remember when drama wasn’t something squeezed into an end-of-term production slot or a “practical enrichment” box on the timetable.  It was part of English, right there in the Key Stage 3 curriculum, alongside metaphors, Macbeth, and the Year 8 class jumping off the ends of their desks as Icarus tested his wings.  (Apologies to the Head whose office was below my classroom.)

Question: Compare the ways both writers transform personal pain into public performance. There are few moments more alarming than flipping over an A Level paper and realising the exam board has gone rogue.  That’s exactly how it felt in my imaginary Paper 3 this morning, when the unseen comparative poem turned out to be Sylvia Plath’s ‘Lady Lazarus’, paired without warning with Lily Allen’s ‘Pussy Palace’.

The Faction’s The Talented Mr Ripley is currently in Brighton and touring across the UK in the coming weeks.  It’s definitely worth an evening of your time - slick, unsettling, and fiendishly clever theatre that lingers long after the lights go up.  I’ll be keeping an eye on whatever this company does next.

There’s something about a Renaissance man with a God complex that just won’t die.  Whether he’s summoning devils (Doctor Faustus), murdering kings (Macbeth), or designing a theocracy under the guise of morality (The Handmaid’s Tale’s Commander), you can practically hear the self-belief whirring.  The centuries change, the tights become trousers, but the hubris?  Eternal.

TV's The (Celeb) Traitors - a masterclass in the need to plan an essay. With no spoilers! There’s something almost indecently satisfying about pulling off a plan.  The clean click of cause and effect.  The sly grin of inevitability.  It’s why The A-Team and every child of the 70s loved it when a plan came together.  And why The Traitors, especially last night’s celebrity edition, is the most exquisite piece of clockwork on television.

Free Masterclass: Tuesday 28 October, 6pm (UK): a free 30-minute masterclass to kick things off. If your teenager is muttering about daggers, witches, and the general futility of existence, it’s not just adolescence. Well, it could be. But it’s also Macbeth season.

I’ve just cracked open The Vegetarian. And then I stopped writing and carried on reading. That was my day yesterday.

Every so often, the internet gifts us a reminder that studying English isn’t just about dusty novels and poetry anthologies.  Exhibit A: the scam email that landed in my inbox.

Six - The hype machine tells us something is unmissable, revolutionary, the Next Big Thing.  Sometimes it is.  Often it isn’t.  Sometimes it’s just… fine.  And sometimes, whisper it, you might actually dislike the Very Important Cultural Moment everyone else is queueing for.

Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus is uncomfortably relevant. An intelligent man - a scholar, no less - trades his soul for limitless knowledge and twenty-four years of supremacy. In our world, the Mephistophelean pact isn’t written in blood but coded in algorithms.

If you’ve been anywhere near a Drama teacher’s social media feed the last couple of days, you’ll know it’s not pretty.  Instagram stories and Facebook groups are awash with exhausted posts from teachers swapping horror stories of grades torn down by moderation, and wondering why they bother putting in hundreds of unpaid hours if the system’s going to kneecap them and their students anyway.

You know the feeling, you’ve paid for the flights.  You’ve wrestled with SPF, exchange rates, suitcase weight limits, and the mysterious disappearance of all chargers.  And somewhere between the airport WHSmith and the sun lounger, your teenager did something unexpected: they started reading a book.

Somewhere between the fourth bramble and the fifth step, my golden retriever puppy decided that she had experienced quite enough of coastal walks, thank you very much.  With the quiet dignity of a small Victorian child in a Dickens novel, she stopped dead in her tracks, sat down and gazed at me with the expression of one forced to walk barefoot to the workhouse. Reader, I carried her.

Changing your surroundings can change your thinking - and never more so than for A Level and IB students getting ahead of the game with their NEAs, HLEs or EEs.  (And if those acronyms mean nothing to you, enjoy your summer.  Coursework-free!)

What do you get when you cross Beckett with pop culture’s most laid-back duo? Potentially, something powerful.

Theatre is meant to take risks - and a production so joyous and kinetic is a gift.  It’s smart, messy, generous, and completely alive.  It’s Midsummer. It’s Madness.  It’s exactly the kind of anarchic disruption Shakespeare deserves.

Think of this as a summer heist - only instead of pinching jewellery, you’re smuggling GCSE English skills into your teenager’s brain while watching dystopian films or arguing over phone rules. Six no-fuss activities. No worksheets. Fewer eye-rolls. It’s the educational equivalent of hiding vegetables in pasta sauce - and it works.

This was a weekend painting course inspired by the gardens of Great Dixter.  If you’ve never been, imagine colour at full volume.  Wild tangles of poppies, calendulas, and dahlias throwing themselves into the light like they’ve got something to prove.  Glorious. 

So, where do all the important characters go? Romeo’s parents.  When their son is busy running around with the boys, getting married at 16, killing his rival, and being banished from the city, where are Lord and Lady Montague?  Busy with dinner plans?  

This isn’t a reading list disguised as revision. It’s a summer-friendly mix of films, podcasts, and context boosters designed to help students feel confident come September and give parents a way into the texts that will dominate the conversation by mock season.