Journey time


I made it to Dublin 90 minutes before curtain up, and 10 hours after leaving home. Delayed delayed delayed, said the departure board, but there are worse places to be than in the warm with a good book (very good: Wolf Hall, loving it). Dublin was snowy, icy, slippy as hell for those poor souls without a Yaktrax habit.
Because of the snow, the theatre audience were all in jeans and boots, big coats and silly hats – all trace of the overpriced shenanigans of the last few years gone. No one could venture out in strappy Choos or risk slush splashes on ugly handbags.  Thank God for it – or maybe everyone really has got a grip and the city is purging off the arseholes. Hope so, they were horrible. And the play was fantastic.


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