At a sophisticated soirée we went to last week we covered all the current serious topics. Mandela’s legacy, Syria and Breaking Bad.
As the Co -Op Prosecco flowed, we nodded sagely and spouted Guardian editorials. It could only have been duller had I been forced to feign interest in The Ashes or we had got onto smacking, acceptable or not.
The first time I was dragged into this room splitter I misheard the start and thought we were discussing snacking. It made for an awkward evening.
As Didsbury Wife and I counted the minutes until we could go home, this promised to be more disappointing than the first half of Homeland series 3 until…
Conversation turned towards the power of In the Night Garden. I have long admired Derek Jacobi’s work – apart from the thing with Gandalf but ITNG is sublime. The drama of the reveal, Ninky or Pinky? The utter joy of the Tombliboos, the slight unease about Macca Pacca. Why the trike and is that thing on his back a Haemorrhoid?
This discussion led to a sing song and joy all around. Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder but one day those Pontipine kids may suffer for sharing a room with their seven siblings and their parents.
Princess Zelda or a crate of Prosecco? The ultimate parental dilemma. Empty seats, always visually interesting