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Probably the last thing we needed this weekend was a stressful trip into London, but we were meeting friends to see a kids show at the Bloomsbury (where I will be performing again in 2024 - it's been a good while since I've been in this terrific theatre). I am no longer dizzy, but still very tired (which I think may be the issue) but I hoped this would be relatively relaxing. We thought about driving in - I guessed we'd be able to park right outside the theatre on a Sunday (I was correct about that) - but in the end figured that the train would be less stressful and super cheap.
The train was not less stressful. There were three London Premier League matches on this afternoon, one at Arsenal and the previous train had been cancelled. We managed to just get on the train (luckily or unluckily we were right by the door when the train stopped), but we were packed in like sardines with some jolly football fans. I think one person managed to squeeze on in the next three stops, but otherwise it was shoulder to shoulder, which was a bit scary (and hot) for the kids. We'd been hoping to sit down and eat our lunch, but there was no chance of that, so instead when we were finally spewed out on to the platform at Finsbury Park, we ate sitting on a bench overlooking a lorry park.
The tube was mercifully less packed, but I forgot how close the Bloomsbury is to Euston and got out at Warren Street and walked the long way round to the theatre.
Phoebe was not happy about any of this. She hadn't even wanted to come to the show, suspecting (correctly) that it would be too young for her. She wanted to go to Wagamamas after, but we were parked in the wrong town and Ernie doesn't like how that restaurant smells. "Nothing is going my way," moaned one of the luckiest children in the world. Check your privilege love. But we've all been there.
To be fair the train journey had been horrible and they'd coped pretty well.
We weren't the only ones suffering - one of our friends' kids was too ill to come and so she and her father had stayed at home. Of course it was the older child - a further kick in the teeth for Phoebe and Ernie got to play with the boy who is about his age. Those two loved the show and Phoebe looked grumpy throughout, though I did hear her joining in with the call and response at the end. I put this to her and she said that you HAD to do that, so she was joining in unwillingly.
I also found the story of two elves falling out of a sleigh with all the kids' letters for Santa a bit childish. Firstly they were meant to be carrying all the letters from every kid in the world but they fitted in one postman's bag and secondly they were doing this on Christmas Eve eve which was much too late for even a super magic Santa to respond to all their wishes.
Luckily I realised that I didn't have to watch this and for the second kids show in a row I took the opportunity to have a sleep. I slept through half of it I'd say. That's a result. Though it was a stressful way to engineer a nap. Ernie and his mate loved the show though, especially the troll wobbling his bum. And he kept telling us the jokes that we'd all just heard. He loves jokes.
We were straight home after, for a less stressful journey followed by a trip to Pizza Express, which as you may have noticed was not Wagamamas. But finally we were all having a good time. And given the levels of hassle we'd been through everyone, adults and kids had held it together well. And weirdly I think I'll remember eating sandwiches on a bench at Finsbury Park with tears of joy in my eyes.
None of this was as bad as getting stuck in the mud at Blenheim, though Phoebe said she preferred that as at least she was sitting down.
