I took my daughter (from now on to be known as OD on this blog - 'Only Daughter') to London for the day. She had been on at me to take her without actually seeming able to tell me what she wanted to do when we got there. I kept looking at theatre tickets but either there didn't seem to be any available, or prices were prohibitive. Both of us had previously seen Billy Elliott, although not together. I went with Reidski and then went on about it at length here. We had both absolutely loved it. Anyway, to cut a long story down to size - I managed to get what appeared to be the last 2 tickets for it at the very last minute. I was led to believe we would be sitting at the back of the second circle, but I was sure we would still be able to see something; I have after all only recently got a new prescription for my contact lenses. Anyway, O.D's delight made every moment of hassle obtaining them totally worth while.
So we did some girly shopping first comprising of H&M (purchases made - O.D), Cos (no purchases made), Top Shop (no purchases made though many eye brows raised at some of the items on sale which brought home to me that I am indeed getting old) and Zara (purchase made - me). And then to Victoria where I went to the box office to collect the tickets for what I assumed were the worst seats in the theatre. I thought it was lucky that of the three box office windows I ended up at the one that just happened to have my tickets right there, and thought it was a little odd they didn't have my name on. We went up to the top circle and showed our tickets to the doorman, who pointed out our tickets were for the circle below. So here, for what it is worth is Jane's theory on buying last minute tickets. I have decided the sellers of these do not allocate specific tickets to named persons. I think they must sell a certain number, and it is totally random which ones you actually get when you collect them. In fact our seats turned out to be really good, and this has happened to Reidski and I before too.
After the show I took O.D for a meal at an Italian chain called Strada. I ordered a pizza and it looked simply perect on arrival - only it wasn't. On first bite it was hardly warm, let alone hot. Dilemma time! For one thing, O.D being a typical 14 year old girl, is mortified by the thought that anything might draw attention to us and I knew she was likely to hate me complaining. But for another - I don't like upsetting anyone - especially not waiters as I know from past experience what a shit job it can be. But the pizza was not of the tempertaure where I could really just put up and shut up and eat up, so I very quietly mentioned the fact to a staff member. A new (and very delicious) pizza was produced. Three different people took the time to come and apologise to me, and it wasn't as if they weren't busy; but in addition, when the bill came they had knocked 20% off which I certainly had not expected. So - good on Strada. I am quick to moan to others about rubbish service so I wanted to highlight how well they responded to a problem.
And now back to normality - work beckons.
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