A spot of entertainment

To say it's been a busy and wet week would both be understatements. Fortunately, when it was possible to actually get out the front door without wearing goggles, some of the reasons were at least of a cultural nature in which diversity ruled ok!

Sunday night...shock, horror at venturing out on the sabbath when I could've stayed in my warm little home to watch the demise of Jedward...we ventured into Bournemouth to watch a couple of plays. The venue was a proper pub, albeit once a bank, but none of your pseudo-retro picture lined walls and fake Tiffany lampshades and not a menu in sight. A small stage, a few leather settees and a gloomy loo so far away that it warranted a return train fare to Weymouth. So, because it was charming and because it's trying to be a centre for the arts, let's give it a bit of promo: it's the Winchester and jolly good it is too. Mind you, it was a squash. With four of us squeezed onto the sofa in the front row, it was difficult not to make friends (or go home with a crick in the neck that served as a souvenir for the following three days). We were sat with a world famous writer who I'd never heard of but who has sixteen published books ... sufficient to impress. The plays were excellent and the acting superb but I wouldn't exactly class it as light relief: the first was about the last surviving orchestra in war torn Baghdad and the second concerned the incarceration in an asylum of the pilot who flew Enola Gay over Hiroshima. So, a laugh a minute then.

Talking of a lot of laughs, Monday night found me back in town once more to see Eddie Izzard. Is that guy off the wall or what? He's certainly a bit of a technophile: while we waited for his arrival, three large screens reflected members of the audience, over which ran all his incoming tweets. Eddie's a big fan of Twitter and used it constantly during his recent marathons. He has a million followers and to prove it there were messages arriving from all points on the compass; including one from him saying he'd be along soon. Hurry up Eddie, we're waiting to see whether you've turned into a stick insect after all that exercise. Actually, when he appeared, he looked quite normal. No, I take that back: 'normal' is not a word to be used in the same sentence as Izzard.

Wednesday was Writers' Circle at which each meeting seems to comprise a different membership. A fellow scribe told me that he'd heard a programme on Radio 4 about these clubs in which they said if you turn up and find a bunch of strange folk who don't seem able to write a shopping list, you know you're in the right place. That pretty much sums us up.

Thursday evening was supposed to be a quiet night in but, in the event, I got home from work at 9pm having been invited to a talent competition at work. I couldn't think of anywhere I'd like to go less after a monstrous day and, of course, it was wonderful. There were ten acts including, amongst others, singers, a band, a magician and a comedian. The less said about the latter, the better: he was out to shock and he succeeded. The rest were a joy. This little venture was organised by first term, first year students tasked with an assessed assignment to organise a venture to make money for charity. Hooray for them! Ten out of ten for sheer effort.

Friday, another friend round for a weekly moan and Saturday I cooked for that crowd of nicotine addicts I met outside Amman airport. Here's a little culinary tip: if you're going to make moussaka don't try to be clever and make half of it the day before. Aubergines that were first cooked twenty-four hours previously are unpleasant little beings. The way to compensate for this is to drink as much red wine as you can but possibly not quite that much. Sunday, I did something that I can't ever remember doing before: got up at 11am, had a bath, came downstairs and looked out at the WEATHER and....changed into a clean pair of pyjamas.