Well, maybe not eleven, closer to three with a fourth on the cusp. “What on earth is he talking about?”, I hear you say. Well we only doggone went to watch the ballet at a famous London theatre called Sadler’s Wells last Thursday.

Now, I’m not one for a load of swans dying all over the place, and the nutcracker sounds too painful, so I was surprised when I was cycling past Sadlers Wells on the way home from London to see a poster for The Tree Musketeers. My memory of this was Oliver Reed and such like drukenly bouncing their was across the French countryside keeping the queen out of danger. So I thought, well, if it’s going to be ballet, it’ll be all the more interesting so see people leaping about with swords and flagons of beer – and they did!

We got there 20 minutes before the start and had two large glasses of red wine before wandering up to our seats. On the way up, we spotted Jane. You know Jane. Jane! Bungle? Zippy? Rod, Jane and Freddy? (For our Canadian brethren, click here and start singing doo-do doo-do dododo-doo-do… along with the rest of us)  She was wandering around looking almost exactly the same as when I saw her when I was a kin (I didn’t tell her this. Hi Jane, I remember you from Rainbow when I was still going to school. Wouldn’t do her ego much good). Well she came and sat down behind us, and for the first 10 minutes gave a running commentary. “I think that’s David”, “Do you think so”, “Yes, I’m almost sure”. “Oh that was nicely done”. That sort of thing. I thought Cath was going to swing for her at one point.

Well ten minutes in, it all quietened down, and Cath fell asleep. I kid you not. She missed the whole of the first half, and only just woke up in time for the oranges. Now, walking to the bar at the intermission, I told Cath not to worry as I’d ordered two glasses of wine. Were were out after all. “Ah”, said Cath, “So did I”. So we there we sat. The two of us with four glasses of wine on the table, and the elderly couple at the next table giving us daggers because they thought we one of those lost generation of young(?) alcoholics. Self consciously, Cath managed both of hers, well they did cost a fortune, and we couldn’t take them home, and I had to leave my second one as I was desperate for the bathroom.

Anyway, out of the bathroom, into my seat, and straight-away we are in the second half. Lots of dancing about. Some dramatic flights, and more than a little bit of come-hither-ing.  Swords clashed, pretend wine was spilt, the queen’s honour was saved in a humorous Shakespearean manner, and then it was all over bar the bowing.

We had a thoroughly great time. I surprised myself by enjoying it even though it was actually my idea to go. And I found myself pirouetting down the street back to Angel station, though that might have been due in part to the wine.

Well, I hope I have given you some insight into the sublime evening we had.We’ll be tackling Shakespeare next with a pepperami and a couple of litres of Cider.

Bottoms up!