Sunday - land in Blighty, then go to a barbecue, then stay at sister’s. Monday - go to Cornwall, stay over in a (shitty) Travelodge, do some Devon on Tuesday, then kip at other sister’s. Wednesday - go to Granny Weatherwax’s for’t night, back to sister’s Thursday long enough for a change clothes and pick up another one before going on to Blackpool. Stay over in another really shitty Travelodge, do the beachfront, buy the tat, get rained on, tits near frozen off, then jump in the car and make it to London. Get changed, get to the Wyndham Theatre in Leicester Square to watch Catherine Tate and David Tennant in ‘Much Ado About Nothing’, *, have a bloody good time, have your sister flag down the only taxi in London that has a nice cabbie, get back to the Premier Inn (not shitty at all), open your MacBook Air and start typing - with a mojito in one hand and the other one over my ear. Yeah yeah, I know - maybe I just have three hands.
* Further to ‘Much Ado About Nothing’, I have to say it was ace - they managed to get much more visual humour into it than the script called for, but I could see ol’ Bill approving of such visual gags and cheap stunts to make the play go faster. For the people who actually understood the English, it was bloody funny (especially the bloke who played the Captain of the Watch); for those who struggled, there was the silent fun of watching David Tennant and Catherine Tate go through their roles with fun, gusto, and obvious enjoyment. By the way they were grinning as they bowed at the end, I’d say every single person in that production was laughing their bloody socks off on the inside.
Actually, the holiday as a whole has been a lot of fun. Unimaginable amounts of hilarity and relaxation have ensued (both separately and together), and Blighty has been much easier on the soul this time than the last - mainly due to’t fact that it’s now May and not bloody freezing December.
So it’s now Sunday night and I’ve booked in for my return flight via Cathay. Such nice chaps and ladies (“laydeeez!”). Except for the fact that, during my flight here, they woke me up for food. Woke me up! I know! You’re sitting there right now, throwing your hands up in the air and exclaiming: “Woke you up, you say! Bloody hell-fire! How dare they!” etc. However, it were a good job they did, cos I was proper starving. Anyway, I’m hoping for an ok flight back - the usual twelve-to-fourteen hours int air, coupled with me trying to stay asleep long enough to avoid the crying children and wandering adults. At least I have my iPhone (and iPod function) to keep me comfortably numb.
And so to Sunday: Doctor bloody Who exhibitions in Olympia 2, car journeys, spot-the-wanker-driver competitions, etc. Fun, fun, fun - in the sun, sun, sun - especially as I’ve now amassed a total of four new tea mugs for my cupboard for when I return home (Details to follow. I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you).
And here we are: Sunday night - telly, vodka, all those good things. After a movie and some amusement, I have to say I’ve enjoyed both Gerard Butler and Craig Ferguson in ‘How To Train Your Dragon’, and copious amounts of vodka. I liked the movie; I laughed, I pointed, I enjoyed guessing the voices. I have two quibbles; one, that the dragon in question, ‘Toothless’, was just a pet and not a friend, and two, that the mighty David Tennant was so criminally under-used. I was greatly amused by the fact that the ‘elders’ (i.e., people who know better; the stronger, harder, much-feared and much-revered ones) sported Scottish voices, whilst the noobs, annoying oiks and kids who needed training had American ones. Nice.
Anyway, a good time was had by all, and the accompanying pizza weren’t bad, neither.
Think that’s about it. Time for bed, said Zebedee.
holiday ~ Doctor Who ~ Shakespeare ~ David Tennant