Good morning dearly beloved, or good (apply appropriate time reference) if you are reading this at any other time of day than morning.
Morning has become that most fruitful of work times for me, the house is quiet and having briefly watched the news and made a cup of tea, I settle down to write. I have plenty to write this week with five ceremonies to prepare and on top of that, I have a trip to London on Thursday when Mrs B and I will be going to The Barbican to see the 25th anniversary production of Les Miserable.
Mrs B and I fell in love with Les Mis when we saw an excerpt on the Royal Variety show in 1985, we bought the tape and played it endlessly before eventually booking tickets in 1988, or was it 89? Anyway, it was when we moved house from Branston to Lincoln - and the move had not gone as expected and all the furniture was in storage and the tickets where safely locked away in the sideboard which was locked in a container! We explained this to the box office and they re-printed some tickets for us and away we went.
We arrived and found our seats and sat waiting patiently, this was still one of the shows of the day and demand for tickets was high, but as we sat we were approached by another couple, middle aged and middle class in matching his and hers mackintoshes. "You are in our seats!" he said, flashing his tickets in front of my face - sure enough the seats indicated on his tickets were the same as the seats we were occupying.
I showed our tickets and the man called over an usher who took the tickets from the man, his wife standing behind him quietly clutching her handbag, her programme and a bag of wine gums. The usher looked at the tickets, then looked at our tickets, then looked back at the couple and said "yes, you tickets are for these seats but not for today, you are here a week early".
The couple were given what I would now presume to be house seats and we all enjoyed the show.
Now I didn't intend telling that story, anyway, we are off to see Les Mis.
We have been to the theatre a lot lately, well I have. The Country Girl, Sisters - Such Devoted Sisters, Slave to the Wage and now, out of the blue, a call to audition for a new play by a local writer. The play is for three actors, one male, and all play many roles, ages, physicality's. Goodness knows why I'm going, the only age I play is childish, and the only physicality I have is slow and creaky. But if they want to see the old magic, I suppose I could get it out for them to marvel at.
Yes, I have a full week ahead, Mrs B and her group of alcoholic friends require me to make then a vegetable curry on Tuesday evening and I will have visits and other matters to deal with - but I complain not. Life goes on for me quite nicely thank you.
Visiting families who have lost children is a reminder that the freedom to sit and write this rubbish is a blessing (non religious variety of course).
I have increased the Guru's presence on Twitter - please feel free to join me - and have now made contact with my dear friend Christine Hamilton as well as many other people, some more well known than me, some obscure like a nice chap called Rob Lowe.
Nichelle Nichols is there too talking in the wake of the 9-11 Koran burning fracas about the Vulcan philosophy of IDIC. Infinite diversity in infinite combination. In the week that Star Trek celebrated its 44th birthday it was a nice reminder of the future we could and should work for - but religion will divide us well into the future and therefore we can only rely on one thing to keep us together. Take it away Mr Sedaka...
