What ho! What a jolly wheeze it was to get tickets for the whole bally lot of us to go and see Jeeves and Wooster at the Duke of York Theatre in the old metropolis on Saturday night.
Such a rare treat to be the entire clan for a change: all three boys, plus Mater and Pater. Especially wanted to go because spiffing Stephan Mangan is in it, and we all think he's top hole. So, we pushed the boat out with a lovely nosh-up at Imperial China first, our absolute faves Chinese restaurant.
Bit of a pain that there was no rotten Northern line to transport us hither and thither from our neck of the woods, but no matter, with a stiff upper lip Pater looked up car parking in town and ascertained we could park for half price in a central car park on presentation of the old theatre tickets. Just the ticket! you might say.
The meal was top notch and then we tripped on round to the theatrical establishment, and would you credit it? No Stephen Mangan. Indisposed due to a bally rotten sniffle, or something. He says pneumonia, but you know what actors are like.
Was still a super show. Matthew McFadyen and the other thespian chap were a revelation. All those costume changes! What a hoot. And then it was time to a get a cab home, I mean, to climb aboard Pop's automobile. And would you believe it? The machine in the car park would not accept the ticket from the theatre. Scoundrels!
So, we paid thirty pounds. Thirty pounds! And drove home taking in the Christmas lights and sights, and flopped into bed just before the witching hour, only for Mater to wake up sick to the bally stomach. Something rotten in the state of Imperial China, methinks.
No matter, was a tip top evening nonetheless. And with regard to the old renovated kitchen quarters (I really dare not mention the topic), there is a floor there now, and units arriving today. All rather jolly disruptive to the old nerves, though, so I'm off to Totleigh Towers to get away from it all. Hope Jeeves has packed the smoking jacket, I'm in need of some serious R&R.
Love Bertie (aka E) x