Yay it’s the weekend. Time for a lie in. No nine o’clock meeting. Who on earth organises nine o’clock meetings? Busy people, sadists and those from a different time zone who can’t work out basic maths. Not on a Saturday, Shirley. THG will be up and out of the house by nine mind you. Park Run ninety one. Impressivo. I’ll be up as well really.
I am informed that it is misty out there. Time of year innit. You knew that. Mellow, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Heating not on yet though. Wear a thicker jumper. Good word, jumper. Interesting origin fwiw. Just looked it up.
I ditched the shorts a week or two ago. There was a bloke in shorts and tshirt at the Broadbent Theatre last night. Ard. Either that or a nutter. I did have to take my jumper off. They had the heating on. Ditto my love and peace leather jacket. Overkill. We had H7 and H8. Backrow aisle seats nearest the exit for a quick getaway. This is important at the Broadbent Theatre because the carpark, which is a small field just up the road, gets rammed and it takes ages to get out so getting there first is a must. It’s also important to reverse in to your spot otherwise it takes even longer to escape as no quarter is given by other theatregoers when it comes to needing space to reverse out and manoeuvre. You will recognise the sort from your visits to garden centre cafes on Sunday afternoons.
On this occasion we were first into the field. Despite my limited mobility the urgency of the task drove me on. We almost needn’t have bothered. Alan the volunteer car park attendant had double parked everyone. It’s the only way to get all the cars in despite it being a tiny theatre. To give you an idea, our row H was the last row on our side of the aisle and numbered twelve closely packed seats. You can work out the capacity. It’s a lovely little gaff. Quaint. Should be supported. We do. Made Alan’s name up. I think he did get namechecked by the announcer but I didn’t register it, not realising that he would be featured in this post the next morning.
Anyway, back in the car park, our row was double parked and we were almost at the end of it which did not bode well. Fortunately the person who had stuck his Skoda in front of us did not do it very effectively and there was just enough room to squeeze through with just inches either side. The problem was turning at the end. I didn’t want to scrape the vw campervan parked opposite (obvs) but a couple of high pressure manoeuvres under the ‘patient’ glares of theatregoers returning to their own sensible cars and we were through. My only real problem is that I have no idea where the front of THG’s little Peugeot 208 is so turning in tight spaces brings with it an element of uncertainty. Improbability. Had we been in my, long since sold, land rover defender it would have been an impossible job despite the 360 degree cameras. We were third or fourth out of the car park and sped away from Wickenby in a jubilant mood. I like driving down those back lanes in the dark.
We always enjoy our night out at the Broadbent Theatre. They have a little bar that they wheel to the front where folk purchase drinks of their choice. At the interval someone sells ice cream also down the front which results in a longish but orderly queue. I refrain from the consumption of any liquids largely because the gents toilet is to the right at the front and offers no access possibilities during a show. Whilst I have in the past had an ice cream my present regime discourages the consumption of such foodstuffs. Quite right too.
Today sees us leaving Lincolnshire’s rural theatreland in our rear view mirrors as we head south for a party in the bright lights, big city. On the train, not THG’s car.
Ciao bebes. There is breakfast to consume.