Something Old...

The Missus is a member of the British Museum and one of the perks of membership is that four times every year they have a members-only evening, which essentially means members can see the latest exhibition for free and stroll round the rest of the museum without tourists cluttering up the place.

So last night we went along and saw the latest exhibition about the last Aztec ruler Moctezuma, then had a stroll around our own favourite bits. This inevitably meant we headed to the Egyptian wing where we were pretty much the only people present.

It was fab seeing her get all excitied and wandering around open-mouthed as she admired all the utterly beautiful artifacts on display. It reminded me it was how she looked when she first saw the soon-to-be-hopefully-ours new house with that look of wonder and utter childlike amazement.

Afterwards we went to the courtyard for a glass of wine and we sat listening to a musical group playing traditional Korean folk music on traditional Korean instruments. It was such a nice moment I didn't even mind missing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony I fancied going to see. We just sat and chatted and listened...

After nearly 13 years together we still quite like each other. We're doing OK...

All Change...

The Boy has packed his stuff and, after an unexpected delay of four days, has left for university.

This now leaves the Missus alone. With me. Without her partner-in-crime when it comes to taunting and belittling me.

The balance of house power has dramatically swung!

Sadly, before I can enjoy my new power, there are other things to occupy my mind with the big house move to pastures new happening in less than two weeks. Consequently myself and the Missus have been sorting out household junk from stuff we want to keep.

The Missus, who is a constant hoarder, had a bit of a shaky moment when she discussed keeping several empty Quality Street tins we'd amassed over the years, but as soon as she got over this she became utterly ruthless in getting rid of stuff.

Her clearing purge of the Boy's bedroom today was almost Stalinist in its ruthless efficiency and her decision to empty her prized journalist stash cupboard and give much of her stuff away was hugely impressive.

Sadly she's now looking at me and I think she's sizing me up for recycling. The balance of power may not have shifted that far...

Other Woman News...

The Other Woman was in Edinburgh at a comedy gig with her long-suffering boyfriend, namely the Other Woman's Real Fella, and the comedian started doing a routine about couples.

Spying the two of them in the front row he started asking the Other Woman's Real Fella a few questions designed to embarrass him.
'So... How long have you been together?'
'About eight years...'
'Are you married?'
'No...'
'Engaged?'
'No...'
'Are you planning on getting engaged?'
'No...'
'Why not? Is it not the right time?'

The Other Woman's Real Fella turned round and looked at her for a second as the rest of the audience looked on before he replied:
'No. It's not the right woman...'

Silence then laughter all around. Apparently the comedian walked off the stage and bowed before his feet for saying that answer, although I suspect he secretly found it pretty galling when his audience had better punchlines than he had.

Mind you, I've always told the Other Woman she's punching well above her weight in that particular relationship. He's well lush, innit.

The 39 Steps...

Patrick Barlow's pastiche adaptation of famed thriller The 39 Steps has been critically lauded and won a 2007 Olivier Award for Best New Comedy.

So it was not great hardship when I bought the Missus tickets to go see it for her birthday as I was also looking forward to having a look and a good laugh. I'm also a long-time fan of Barlow's other incarnation as the brains behind the National Theatre of Brent, whose shows were consistently funny and inventive.

Sadly the 39 Steps isn't anywhere near as smart as it would like to think.

Instead it's a lampooned run through the 1935 Hitchcock-directed film of the book that comes in at just over one hour and forty-five minutes, which also includes an interval.

On the plus side that does make it quite pacy... but once you've got over the fact that just four actors are playing all the characters, and you've worked out where the sight gags and prat falls are coming, and you've stopped laughing at the sub 'Allo 'Allo comedy accents, and you've realised the on-stage costume changes are quite cleverly orchestrated... there's actually not a lot to it.

It's West End theatre as done by the Chuckle Brothers, except if the Chuckle Brothers were doing it then it would be done with a lot more affection and the sight gags and the prat falls would be funnier.

I was lucky enough to see Knee High Theatre do their version of Brief Encounter a few years ago and that was also part-pastiche, but it also had a real heart to it and you could see the cast and the creative team behind it really cared and respected the source material.

Sadly with the 39 Steps the over-riding feeling is that it's a cynical piss-take and the creative team are essentially out to make a quick buck. And, sadly, the product suffers and has a jaded feel to it.

But then again it's West End theatre so you pays your money and you takes your chance. And to be frank I should have known better...

Monkey Business...

It's birthday weekend for the Missus so I took her to London Zoo and we saw the lion cubs and they're breath-takingly sweet and beautiful.

We also had a wonder around the new Gorilla World, which was pretty cool, and did the rest of the stuff, such as the Reptile House and the Aquarium. My favourite new find, however, was the Hanuman Langurs. These are very cute monkeys from India and they're considered sacred by Hindus. They're both playful and quite serious looking and I've decided these are now my favourite monkey of choice.

It was quite strange walking around London Zoo on our own and without a child to take and show things. The Missus used to take the Boy when he was young and it served as yet another reminder that he's now no longer the Boy and will be wending his own way into the world very shortly.

'Does it feel strange not having a child with you?' I asked as I realised we were the only people without one.
'I wouldn't say I was totally without a child,' she replied as she looked at me before wiping the chocolate from my ice cream off my nose.

Jamie’s...

It's Notting Hill Carnival weekend so that means just one thing at From Beer To Paternity Towers... me and the Missus are getting the fuck out of town so we don't have to put up with thousands of tourists parading down our street screeching whistles and acting like they've just had their first pint and it's made them very pissed.

So we had a few days in Brighton and while we were there we went to Jamie Oliver's restaurant in Brighton which is called Jamie's.

I must confess that I have been through several stages with the mockney chef geezer. I quite liked him when he first arrived on the telly chef scene as he was very much part of that whole cool Britannia thing. And he was chatty and chirpy and it even encouraged an idiot like me to try cooking dishes I'd never thought about.

But within a year or so he was absolutely bloody everywhere. His books took up entire aisles in bookshops, he seemed like he was on several telly channels all at once, he was advertising this and promoting that...

In fact being Jamie Oliver or one of his beautiful friends who got invited round to sample his food seemed like the lifestyle dream everyone wanted... thus making anyone who couldn't aspire to that feel a bit shit and a bit useless. And as one of the shit and useless who wasn't beautiful I went off him pretty rapidly.

But then he came back with his frankly brilliant 15 show, then his School Dinners show, then his Ministry Of Food show, and rather than Jamie the brand you started to see Jamie the chef who actually cared and wanted to make a difference (as well as a few quid) and I was back in love with him.

So it was with mixed feelings that I ventured into one of his chain restaurants with the Missus when we went to Brighton but I'm pleased to report the place, the service and the food was bloody brilliant. And it wasn't massively expensive and they serve a great Bloody Mary.

And, even better, the Missus loved it so that's an easy birthday or Xmas present sorted out.

On the negative side, though, Brighton does still have a gay sex shop called Prowler. I reckon that's terrible branding. They may as well just call it Rapist and have done.