Night Time in the Garden

Poor NotCat; the warmest day of the year and he has spent most of it indoors. I don’t yet trust him to be outside alone all day and I was out at work. Then I came home, he enjoyed a cuddle and less than an hour’s freedom before he was confined again, so now he is ninjaing about and I’m outside too, keeping him company.

The rest of London is downing Pimms, white wine and lager like there’s no tomorrow. Not all in the same glass of course. Though there’s no accounting for tastes, so I expect that would be someone’s idea of a nice cocktail.

Every bar we went by was full.

I went to a performance of Cantina at the Wonderground on the SouthBank. You know, where the huge purple upturned cow is: Udderbelly.

It was quite good. Extraordinarily hot, and there was male nudity. But I missed that. There was a pillar that would have been strategic if I had been filming for Blue Peter, but was just accidental as far as we were concerned.

It’s a burlesque show. There’s dancing, lots of acrobatics, a fair amount of S&M themed stuff, so quite a few moments that made our party wince. Lots of people really enjoyed it. Trouble was, we had all seen La Clique a few years back. Now that was a show. Sexy, funny, brilliant. This one struggled to keep a narrative that was not repetitive. Mind you, you can get tix for £15 and it is about seventy five minutes long, non stop, so not bad value.

Once it was over we wandered past all the drinkers and sat for a while outside the National Theatre. There were some young men practising the sort of skills we had just watched in the marquee.
Maybe I am just getting old, but all I wanted was a long drink of water and to come home.

I may have to leave NotCat to his devices for a while and have a bath, then hope he is ready and willing to come in so I don’t have to pace the neighbourhood in my pyjamas. Sweet dreams.

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