After all of the pressure of mum's planned move to The Old Vicarage, Ross's continuing mental health issues and my run-ins with the DWP, I needed a break. Luckily, though the savings are diminishing, we are not yet in a position where I cannot afford to take off.
A while back, I had rummaged through the Royal Opera House's website on the first day of public booking for the winter season. I managed to find a single seat for a very good price for an opera I love and so I jumped at it.
Thus I was able to organise train journeys at times which gave me good prices and a hotel room at a bargain rate.
The Euston Square Hotel even gifted me a double room instead of a single so I stretched out on arrival and grabbed a few zzzzzzs. Into Prezzo on Euston Road for a quick pizza and gin and elderflower before the opera. And then a waly pretty much due south to Covent Garden.
Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor is a fabulous opera and I enjoyed my evening out to the full.
Michele Mariotti conducted supportively though without as much character as I would have liked. The orchestra was a bit bland at times. Lisette Oropesa, Ismael Jordi and Christopher Maltman sang their socks off.
Katie Mitchell's production was violently disliked on its first outing (hence the availability of tickets on the first day of public booking).
I honestly can't see why - it's a simple time relocation to a sort of Jane Eyre era combined with "realistic" acting and a setting which uses a split screen technique throughout.
Sometimes, the acting out of the dual narratives was a distraction but that was not true all of the time.
There was nothing that was outlandishly out of place (we saw Lucia's murder of Arturo in the secondary action for example) and everything was emotionally true to the work.
I thought it was a great show.
The following day I met up with Alex once more and the two of us had fun shagging a young friend of his, Oli. It was fun and just the sort of physical release that I was in need of.
That evening, I thought Indian. It must be nearly twenty years since I last explored the Indian restaurants on Drummond Street with my work colleague, Nefissa. Unfortunately, the echt Indian restaurants with the Indian customers were all full by 7pm so I ended up at the more Anglicised end of the street.
Nevertheless, it was most enjoyable nosh.
And then I was down to Catford Bridge to visit Robert, Anna and Charlie. I took with me a modern day Advent Calendar based around the characters of Star Wars which offered up a chocolate figure from the popular cinematic franchise each day rather than something redolently symbolic of the Christian Nativity. Whilst well intentioned, this was a mistake as Charlie did not grasp the notion of deferred gratification and promptly staged a major four year old strop which signified his desire to eat the full contents of the box there and then.
I could have wept.
I gained a bit of kudos from showing him photographs of The Deep in Hull. For a youngster, Charlie was very good at identifying the different sea creatures. It calmed him somewhat.
Then home and to bed.
It was busy. That is true.