Saturday was nice. We played at tourists. We walked along the river, hung out at The National Theatre (we pointed and gawped at actors from The Bill and The Vicar Of Dibley), had a lovely lunch here, bumped into Paddy McAloons brother (an old friend of Darrens) and saw a play. Theatre Of Blood was gory, camp and funny. Jim Broadbent hammed it up marvellously as the failed Shakespearian actor and Bette Bourne did a fantastic turn as a Quinton Crisp type critic (complete with two live poodles which were cooked into a pie in the second half and force fed to him). We don’t go to the theatre very often as the expense rarely guarantees enjoyment. After the disappointment of Acorn Antiques a few months ago this visit was surprisingly satisfying (and the best seats at the National were half the price of A. Antiques).