John Hartley was a big man in every sense of the word.  A man with a big appetite for life, lunch, booze and cigarettes.  He was my acting tutor at drama school in the early nineties.  John would sit, chain-smoking in the rehearsal room at East 15 watching our attempts at Chekhov with an expression both intense and inscrutable.  On one occasion one of us fluffed a line and John exclaimed exultantly: "At last something f*****g interesting's happened.  Just for a moment I actually got the impression that you weren't reading from a f*****g script!" John could be a harsh critic, although I think he saw it as being kind.  Acting is a brutal profession and if you can't embrace criticism and carry on in the face of near constant rejection you are dead.  He was especially eloquent on the subject of praise: "Praise f***ks you up darlings."  (Pause to take a deep drag on cigarette and exhale filling the room  with a yellow smog).  "Critici...

If the Hilton hotels chain needed to send an executive into exile they would almost certainly chose Batang Ai.  This massive Longhouse Resort on the edge of a reservoir in the middle of nowhere is slowly dying on its feet.  It was built for hundreds of guests, but usually accommodates only a handful.  The fact that you have to get a ferry across the reservoir to reach it adds to the sense of sleepy isolation. It has however become a kind of country club for British Council mentors in need of peace, quiet, club sandwiches and an "international" buffet. For local people the idea of going to Batang Ai is insane, why go to a fake longhouse when you can get the real thing for literally a fraction of the cost?  But for mentors it's the tourist ambiance that is so attractive, because it makes no demands and can make you feel for a while that you are one with the pink kneed, camera bejewelled holidaymakers that roll up from time to time. Last weekend we went there to cel...