Friday December 12

I went to London to see herself. Despite flying Ryanair, always a high risk option from the point of view of failing to meet baggage or other criteria, all went well and I landed safely in Gatwick without disgorging an extra cent. Gratifying.

I stayed in a rather pricey B&B in Chelsea where herself is temporarily resident (Chelsea rather than the B&B). I found Chelsea delightful but I do see that it is a bit old and expensive for a younger demographic. Her flat is lovely but she is moving on to somewhere that is probably more affordable.

Herself came and rescued me from the B&B and we walked down the charming streets of Chelsea to her flat.

We were going to the theatre that evening so I went back to my place to change (unnecessary, I had not understood the nature of the audience in the National Theatre) and we met in Sloane Square which confusingly seems to be sponsored by Ralph Lauren for Christmas.

Due to some timing issues we were dining after the theatre so I purchased a Marmite and cheese bun to keep the wolf from the door. Not as unpleasant as it sounds but wouldn’t rush back for another.

We were going to see Ballet Shoes. I had reread the Noel Streatfeild book in preparation (a particular delight in a year where I feel I have read too many new books and not reread enough old ones). The night before I had been for dinner with two friends from college one of whom was extremely familiar with the text and one of whom had never heard of it. The latter began to become concerned we had joined a cult as the former and I discussed the plot in granular detail. I digress slightly but we went to a fancy new rooftop restaurant on top of the old central bank building and it felt very swanky. It’s called Díon which is the Irish for roof which is kind of clever. One of my college friends said that her friend has given each of her four (!) children €70,000 to buy a house; as my other friend commented acerbically, “What are the rest of us who don’t have €70,000 to give to our children going to do?” What indeed? Is it any wonder my beloved first born thinks she has a better chance of getting a house in London. Sigh.

Anyway, back to Ballet Shoes. Obviously, I know it’s a children’s book. I don’t know why I didn’t think it would be a production broadly aimed at children. And so it was. The sets and costumes were really good. Some of the actors were outstanding but some were not. Posy Fossil was pretty mediocre. She was a good ballet dancer and I can see why they needed someone who could dance but there is a lot of acting as well. Theo Dane – a bit part in the book but somewhat expanded here – was very good.

There was a lot of dancing which I enjoyed but the children are the heart of the book. The actress who played Pauline was good but the one who played Petrova was only alright and the actress who played Posy was just not great. And they were all adults. I can’t help feeling I’d have been more forgiving on the acting front had they not all been in their 20s.

The audience demographics were interesting also. Despite it being a children’s Christmas treat there were almost no children there. In fact they were pretty much all old people (a good deal older than me, I would say). I found this a bit puzzling. Had they no grandchildren? I can’t help feeling that if herself had been 15 years younger we might both have enjoyed it a great deal more. So, I suppose, recommended, if you have children to accompany you.

Saturday December 13

We had a pricey but pleasant breakfast in Daylesford organic (a sort of Pain Quotidien equivalent).

We wandered around Chelsea for a bit. A previously unknown part of London for me but, I think it’s fair to say, a not completely unknown destination. I did like it very much. It feels weirdly suburban though for somewhere quite central.

I enjoyed this example of English humour.

We went in to the National Portrait Gallery and saw the Cecil Beaton exhibition which I enjoyed very much.

For the first time, I thought there might be something to abstract expressionism but, on balance, I still think not. It’s just Cecil Beaton’s genius made it seem momentarily appealing.

Given that he was so much a society photographer, there were lots of familiar faces. I was surprised though to see Hazel Lavery who looks like she does in her husband’s pictures but also less attractive. I understand that she was very beautiful but this picture does her no favours.

After our dose of culture we went for a cup of tea in a spot called 26 grains which I am pleased to approve. It was in a nice little courtyard slightly away from the main drag. The main drag was Covent Garden and it was very Christmassy and pretty but heaving.

We didn’t stay long. We hopped on a bus (upstairs, lovely views) to North London where Mr. Waffle’s sister, N, was singing in a Christmas concert and had procured tickets for us. We arrived a bit early and wandered around the streets of Islington. Herself was ecstatic and even ran into a friend from college. I thought it was nice and everything but not as lovely as Chelsea. I suppose these things may be age dependent.

The Christmas concert was a delight even though it featured several songs I had never heard. As you know, I am generally not a fan of this approach. However, I really, really liked four of the unknown numbers- so much so that I insisted on playing them for the troops when I got home, they were less keen; perhaps you had to be there. I thought it was really lovely anyway and I definitely wiped away una furtiva lacrima (surely, I am allowed to be pretentious here in the privacy of my own blog?).

After the concert, herself, myself and N went to the local Ottolenghi. I had never been before and was curious. It was very nice but more snacky than I expected. Strong on salads. I had the fish though and it was excellent.

Sunday December 14

After some reflection we went back to Daylesford for breakfast. My flight was at lunchtime and I didn’t have loads of time and it was handy. She’s obviously never darkened the door herself as she is living on shoestring. Mind you this shoestring is in part necessary because she’s just back from a fortnight in Japan with friends, so, you know, not all bad.

The main reason I left so early was so that I could get to my annual book club Christmas afternoon tea. I should really have just accepted that I was going to miss it this year. I was exhausted. I mean it was grand but I am just not the kind of person who can swan from plane to anything other than a quiet evening at home.

I trust your own Christmas preparations continue apace. I finally got my tree up and decorated the house this afternoon. I still have some Christmas cards to write and if you are one of the people who has not yet received one, I am very sorry but now I am off to the airport to collect herself so who knows when they will issue. Hurrah for the return of the firstborn though!

Have a picture of the tree in the upper courtyard of Dublin Castle which like mine (as of this afternoon) is up and decorated.