Where to Start?

It has been a busy twenty four hours since I was last here.

I finally made it to bed at around two o’clock.  My alarm was set for seven thirty.  Andrea and I planned to leave at eight to try and give ourselves a fighting chance against the vagaries of the London traffic.

At three o’clock Oscar woke up with raging night terrors.  It meant that he ended up in our bed in  a lather of sweat, while Jason, whose ear was killing him, meaning it was difficult for him to get back to sleep, went downstairs to snooze on the sofa.

At four o’clock I was utterly cheesed off by being kicked in the back by my small, yet determined son, who was burrowing under the bed clothes and huffing and puffing and turning like a dervish in his sleep.

I got up, manoeuvred him as far away from me as I could get, and went back to sleep.

By the time I got up I had had about three hours unbroken sleep.  I was not feeling my best.

Oscar was snoring, sprawled out on our bed, flat on his back with all the covers, Lord of the universe.

Jason was hunched up on the sofa wrapped in a throw pretending it wasn’t morning.

I scowled over the coffee pot and thought that the day might possibly be cursed.

This theory gained more credence when Andrea finally turned up at half nine.  Her dad had been taken ill at the farm, and she had been needed to help feed the cattle before we left.

We set off thinking we would never make it in time.  Amazingly, by going down the M40 and the M25 and the M4, and then coming in via Kew, we managed a good time and didn’t meet with any of the blocks set up because of the football or the marathon.

Just after midday we were ensconced in Wagamama’s, stuffing our faces.  All good.

Jason called me after lunch to say that Oscar had been very lethargic and not with it during his karate grading.  He did get his yellow belt, but it was more of a pity gesture than because of anything he had done.  Tilly got her orange belt with aplomb, which was good.

Then Jason called me to say that Oscar didn’t want to go to the party he had been invited to that afternoon, and that he was running a slight temperature.  Yikes.  This was not normal behaviour at all.  Apparently he didn’t eat lunch either.  My mama radar was on red alert.

Nothing to be done except instruct Jason to watch him and be ready in case of emergencies.

We sloped off to watch Frankenstein at the National.  I expected great things. Everyone I have spoken to who has seen it has been utterly blown away by it.  It is directed by Danny Boyle of Trainspotting/Slumdog Millionaire fame, and stars Benedict Cumberbatch and Jonny Lee Miller.  Each takes it in turn to play either Frankenstein or his monster.

We got the day when Jonny Lee Miller was the monster and Cumberbatch was Victor Frankenstein.  I had already seen Benedict Cumberbatch at the National in After The Dance, and he was superb. I did not know what to expect from Jonny Lee Miller.

It was incredible. Both actors were mesmerizing.  The sets were amazing, the whole thing was amazing. I am so glad I went to see it, and wasn’t stuck in traffic on the M1 instead.  I wish I had tickets to see them in the reverse roles.  I imagine it would be equally stunning and yet totally different.

It is on for another fifteen days if you can beg a ticket from anyone. I highly recommend it.

We were not so lucky with traffic on the way home and it took nearly four hours, most of which we spent getting out of London.  I am much more conversant with the geography of Pimlico now than I ever was, which is a bonus I suppose.

When I got home I was greeted by a husband who still has an extremely miserable looking ear, and a son who was smothered in spots from head to foot and who had just been dosed with Calpol for a fever. He also has a nasty cough and a sore throat and tummy.  This might explain his lacklustre performance at karate earlier today.

It also explains why we will not be spending our week catching up with old friends as we planned.  It looks to me like he has measles, or something very like.  We were meant to be taking a picnic to the Cotswold Wildlife Park tomorrow to meet up with my best friend and her three children, and then meeting up with my very pregnant friend and her two children on Tuesday.

Spots have cancelled play on these two events at the very least.  I await with trepidation what the rest of the week unfolds.

Still, at least I got to see Jonny Lee Miller’s willy before it all went wrong.

Good, but still nothing to beat Ian McKellen’s just in case you were wondering.

I’m doing a survey.  Famous Theatrical Willies Wot I Have Known.

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