May 9th (Fri)

It's baking again and I drop the kids to school then take out L. He is a nice lad when you can finally get him to talk. Everything about him says "I'm trouble" but he is really as sweet as a lamb.
Another void in the middle of the day, but is mainly used getting my lesson plans together rather than idly gloating at dommes on the net.
A new lad in the evening. He's not done much driving but is a biker so has got the basics pretty quickly. He's a nice lad to boot.
And so to the evening.Last year as a birthday surprise I took Dan to London to see Spamalot, and this year I am doing it again. The difference is that last time we were nine miles high in the gods, whereas now we have seats in the very front row.
It's great, so much more intimate despite two hours of craning neck. I am not sure it totally captures the spirit of Python, but gets half way their, and with it's lavish, silly song and dance numbers manages to provide a fabulous night's entertainment. Dan is thrilled, and begs for a t shirt at the end.
Expensive evening. A bargain £40 for the 2 tickets, then £17 for the train fares, £20 for taxis, a tenner for drinks and £15 for a t shirt.
We walk back though Soho to get a cab in Oxford Street. The place is buzzing. The air is balmy and the crowds are spilling out from the pubs and bars onto the streets. Not the binge drinking vomiting, tart clad and neanderthal thugs you'd encounter in most British towns, but a Bohemian, cosmopolitan sophisticated bunch decorating the air with the happy hubub of excitement and contentment. Restaurants have set out their tables on the pavement and the heady smell of good food floats on the air to complement the chatter of bonhomie. I'd like to stay and become part of it, but of course Dan now needs feeding.
We head for Marylebone en taxi and he drops us with no more than 5 minutes to spare for the train, which whisks us home.
Dan picks up on the difference between the grungy street atmosphere of Wycombe after the capital, but we are soon back to the comfortable and familiar surroundings of the curry centre.
We eat well, but lightly. H, our taxi driver joins us, and we drive her mad by repeating snippets of the Spamalot script. His powers of retention are impressive. a good, good evening.