As I was saying, I went to the theatre on Saturday. It’s not often I do something at all cultured, so it was something to be relished.
I wouldn’t have gone if I hadn’t been comped, of course. I went around to the stage door and asked for the manager, saying “A friend of mine’s in the company, and he said you’d give me a tcket.” Fortunately, he seemed to be expecting me, and he took me round the front of house and told the ushers to sit me somewhere.
The play was rather good, and I’m not just saying that in case W is reading. As it’s really a children’s play, I was dreading the theatre being filled with squalling brats, but fortunately they weren’t that bad (although I was a bit surprised that the family in front of me was sat watching the play and eating a pizza. This isn’t your living room, you know). I definitely laughed at several of the jokes, even though I can’t remember what they were (apart from the “This isn’t India!” line that I used in the previous post), and the play was just the right length to stop me getting bored (I do have the attention-span of a five-year-old, of course).
After it was over (they didn’t do curtain calls), I blustered my way backstage again. I was explaining to the stage door keeper that I knew someone, could he call him please, when the wardrobe master walked past and said “Oh, are you waiting for W?” Either I look distinctive, or they don’t get many backstage visitors. After he’d showered we went to Favorit for some food, and then on for a (rather late-starting) night out at CC’s, because one of the technical people (sorry, I forget all the job titles) had just been dumped by her girlfriend (by SMS, the bitch) and was desperate to pull. She didn’t, but I think we all had a good time anyway.
As you might realise, I officially tend to like supposedly-twee indie-pop, rather than the sort of cheesy chart-dance-pop they play at CC’s. And, proverbially, I never dance. Therefore, it automatically follows that I can’t have been dancing all night to cheesy chart-pop-dance music, can I?