Alone at the Marina

I had some misgivings about coming East this afternoon. Celia and I went to see It's a Mad World My Masters at the Barbican last night. It's an RSC production, and, like most RSC productions, pretty damn good. Celia is currently a cricket widow with Charlie away in the West Indies, so she is free to be a cultural partner in crime.

The play finished at about 10.15, and by the time we got back to our patch of London it was 11. I was hungry, MasterB needed outside time, so the date had changed by the time I got into bed. Sleep was almost instantaneous, and when the alarm went off at 6.30 I felt quite rested and refreshed. But having been to work, my less than eight hours were catching up on me.

I stopped a couple of times on the journey; provisions and petrol. And took the opportunity to stretch and yawn. We hit patches of slow slow traffic, but by leaving later than I had intended, managed to miss some of the school run rush. All the same, I was aware of having to make myself concentrate, keeping the windows slightly open so a breeze whisked about me. Continue reading