The Best Things in Life Aren’t Things
My Boy is unfortunate in that his birthday falls on Christmas Eve. From his side it means he only gets one big bash per year, and from my side it means I have to come up with two thoughtful and brilliant gift ideas for consecutive days, which is a drain on both my brain and my wallet.
This being the case, I came up with an ideal solution; buy a thoughtful gift for one occasion and organise a thoughtful expedition for the other.
I doubt the blogging world is that interested in the gift, but they may be interested in the expedition. The essence of this was simple, get a hotel in London, have fun in London, then do dinner and a show. Now, anyone who has done any of these things will know that I had just opened myself up to an ocean of choice with populated with metaphorical sea monsters and pirates.
Fortunately, I had a compass. The Boy had never seen Cirque du Soleil, and fortunately for me, Koozå had finally landed in the UK and installed itself in the Royal Albert Hall for a few weeks. Perfect, this practically chose the hotel for me too, there are only so many hotels within walking distance of the Royal Albert Hall, and most of them are rather nice. The last two bits of the puzzle also solved themselves quite nicely too as The Boy has something of a train fixation, so the Transport Museum was an obvious choice for the itinerary, and this put us right next to China Town and a plethora of good restaurants. Plan: Sorted.
The Transport Museum was indeed full of trains and busses and very interesting information, but unfortunately it was presented in the same seizure inducing ADHD friendly manner as in The Riverside Museum. I want to see the exhibit, not a load of flashing lights and meaningless graphics. I’m being unfair here, it wasn’t nearly as bad The Riverside Museum, but I do wonder why museums feel the need to do this orgy of multimedia and sensory wanking. I think I’m too used to white box galleries, which are quiet places of contemplation with minimal distraction. Disappointingly, the exhibit of Thomas Heatherwick’s new Routemaster had been taken out, but by now we had filled our brains so it would have been a bit wasted.
Next up beer and a pretty good ‘all you can eat’ Chinese buffet. Good enough to visit again, and that’s saying something. I ate my bodyweight in tofu, and according to certain sectors of the Internet I now have enough oestrogen in my system to be technically female as well as gay.
Filled to the point of uncomfortable, we began to head back to the hotel, but then we spied something. A Heatherwick Routemaster! In the wild!
Boy: “There’s one! Lets get on it!”
Me: “Where’s it going?”
Boy: “Doesn’t matter, lets do it!”
By now my spidey senses were tingling, this could either be brilliant or disastrous and expensive.
Me: “Sod it, why not, it’s your day!”
Luckily for us it was going in broadly the right direction, and it is indeed a lovely bus. Everything feels considered, all the bits and bobs line up and it feels quite special, but in a utilitarian kind of way.
After a quick shower and a change of clothing we headed of to the show, and what a show it was! I’ve seen a few Cirque du Soleil shows, and this followed the general formula, but there were a few real moments of awe at things I hadn’t seen before.
As always, the production was exceptional, with exquisite costumes and sets to go with some truly jaw dropping performance. Highlights for me were a group of contortionists who didn’t seem to have any bones, a cast of performers dressed as skeletons on the Day of the Dead and a truly terrifying hamster wheel based contraption ominously called ‘The Wheel of Death’, in which two acrobats do very foolish and dangerous things to the amazement of the entire audience.
It’s still on, and I encourage you to go and see it, whether you’re an experienced Cirque’er or a virgin like my Boy was, it really is stunning stuff.
We ended the evening with a few more beers in a nearby pub before crawling back to the hotel to collapse in a exhausted heap.
I will round this post by directing you back to the journal title, the best things in life aren’t things, they are happenings and the keepsakes are the memories we have of them. Happy Christmas my love.
Peace,
~T
This being the case, I came up with an ideal solution; buy a thoughtful gift for one occasion and organise a thoughtful expedition for the other.
I doubt the blogging world is that interested in the gift, but they may be interested in the expedition. The essence of this was simple, get a hotel in London, have fun in London, then do dinner and a show. Now, anyone who has done any of these things will know that I had just opened myself up to an ocean of choice with populated with metaphorical sea monsters and pirates.
Fortunately, I had a compass. The Boy had never seen Cirque du Soleil, and fortunately for me, Koozå had finally landed in the UK and installed itself in the Royal Albert Hall for a few weeks. Perfect, this practically chose the hotel for me too, there are only so many hotels within walking distance of the Royal Albert Hall, and most of them are rather nice. The last two bits of the puzzle also solved themselves quite nicely too as The Boy has something of a train fixation, so the Transport Museum was an obvious choice for the itinerary, and this put us right next to China Town and a plethora of good restaurants. Plan: Sorted.
The Transport Museum was indeed full of trains and busses and very interesting information, but unfortunately it was presented in the same seizure inducing ADHD friendly manner as in The Riverside Museum. I want to see the exhibit, not a load of flashing lights and meaningless graphics. I’m being unfair here, it wasn’t nearly as bad The Riverside Museum, but I do wonder why museums feel the need to do this orgy of multimedia and sensory wanking. I think I’m too used to white box galleries, which are quiet places of contemplation with minimal distraction. Disappointingly, the exhibit of Thomas Heatherwick’s new Routemaster had been taken out, but by now we had filled our brains so it would have been a bit wasted.
Next up beer and a pretty good ‘all you can eat’ Chinese buffet. Good enough to visit again, and that’s saying something. I ate my bodyweight in tofu, and according to certain sectors of the Internet I now have enough oestrogen in my system to be technically female as well as gay.
Filled to the point of uncomfortable, we began to head back to the hotel, but then we spied something. A Heatherwick Routemaster! In the wild!
Boy: “There’s one! Lets get on it!”
Me: “Where’s it going?”
Boy: “Doesn’t matter, lets do it!”
By now my spidey senses were tingling, this could either be brilliant or disastrous and expensive.
Me: “Sod it, why not, it’s your day!”
Luckily for us it was going in broadly the right direction, and it is indeed a lovely bus. Everything feels considered, all the bits and bobs line up and it feels quite special, but in a utilitarian kind of way.
After a quick shower and a change of clothing we headed of to the show, and what a show it was! I’ve seen a few Cirque du Soleil shows, and this followed the general formula, but there were a few real moments of awe at things I hadn’t seen before.
As always, the production was exceptional, with exquisite costumes and sets to go with some truly jaw dropping performance. Highlights for me were a group of contortionists who didn’t seem to have any bones, a cast of performers dressed as skeletons on the Day of the Dead and a truly terrifying hamster wheel based contraption ominously called ‘The Wheel of Death’, in which two acrobats do very foolish and dangerous things to the amazement of the entire audience.
It’s still on, and I encourage you to go and see it, whether you’re an experienced Cirque’er or a virgin like my Boy was, it really is stunning stuff.
We ended the evening with a few more beers in a nearby pub before crawling back to the hotel to collapse in a exhausted heap.
I will round this post by directing you back to the journal title, the best things in life aren’t things, they are happenings and the keepsakes are the memories we have of them. Happy Christmas my love.
Peace,
~T