I'm dreaming

I just had my very own white Christmas (well, white day-after-Boxing Day, anyway)...

I was walking back to my flat and as I walked through the underpass that goes through the Harlequin Centre, my feet suddenly crunched on a thin covering of snow and as I progressed, I saw flakes in the air fly around and settle on the ground and the trees.

As I carried on and got to the bright lights of the Harlequin, there was more and more snow in light drifts on the ground but something was wrong... surely it wasn't quite cold enough, and it seemed lighter than snow usually is.

As I came through the other side I could see lorries and men in hi-viz jackets and realised... they were dismantling and removing the Harlequin Christmas Grotto (boy those elves have done a good job over the last few weeks) and all the fake snow from it was dislodging and blowing down the street and giving me my own personal winter-wonderland moment.

Happy December.

way to go

Ooh it's a while since I've done one of these. I'm all out of practice and certain others have upped the ante in the meantime, making my little observations on telly and stuff seem a little trivial. I nearly wrote one on theatre a couple of weeks ago but I got a bit sidetracked with other stuff.

I'm watching Long Way Down, the Ewan McGregor and Other Chap programme about travelling through Africa on some motorbikes. I've been sort of watching it throughout the series in a vague, non-committal way, off and on, depending on the varying degrees of music kids, health issues and weather affecting my desire to leave the house/sofa on a Sunday evening after Top Gear.

Last week piqued my interest as they were riding through Rwanda, where as many of you know I visited last year (and returned a whole decade older… sort of). It was strangely moving to see the country again and watch people on the telly ride the same roads I had and even stay in the same guesthouses. It is very easy to see a place on the television and think you know what it looks like but unless you are there in person, breathing in the smells and tastes and textures, feeling the warmth of the sun or the cold of the mountains, riding through the darkness on the back of a motorbike driven by a one-legged man called Danger, sitting in a mud hut eating with the family who live there and being grateful for the lack of light so no-one can see the hot shameful tears falling out of your eyes when you realise just how little you know about the world, you don't really, you just know what it looks like on telly. I don't want to be a smug twat: I only saw a tiny part of a tiny country in the middle of a massive continent, but it was something I'll always carry with me. The second night (of mud hut fame) I thought I might have to go home; I didn't think I could take two weeks of it. In the end I decided to stay but I thought the trip was one that was going to be a feat of endurance rather than enjoyment. By the end the tears that were falling were due to reluctance to leave. It's a really beautiful place and everywhere we went, people asked us to tell everyone that Rwanda was not just about the genocide, it was a stunning place to visit (so I am telling you now). They have the gorillas of course, we went and saw those and yes, it was pretty special. But the memories that stay with me are from the small town we stayed in and the people we met there, and the outstanding beauty of the country, the lakes and mountains and patchwork-quilt landscape.

So yes, last Sunday night a pang was felt in Lady Mc's heart at these memories, marred only slightly by the Other Chap's gauche musings on the genocide. This week it was more of an interesting sociological study as Ewan McGregor's wife joined the party, of course changing the dynamic between him and the Other Chap. Oh alright, his name's Charlie (and he bears a strange resemblance to the bass player in the panto band, as well as the Laughing Cavalier). To be honest they never come across as being the best of mates anyway, Ewan always looks faintly embarrassed at whatever Charlie is saying (and rightly so) although I guess they must be to embark on such an endeavour (though best mates are not always the best travelling partners). Anyway Eve (pron. Ev)'s appearance suddenly provoked a comedy change in dynamic: Ewan becoming protective and slightly over-enthusiastic of her presence there, Charlie making "jokes" about being abandoned… They got through it though and finished the journey (and the series) in Cape Town, somewhere I'd quite like to visit in the next couple of years, not least because one of my closest friends is now living there.

I didn't feel when I was watching that it was the most inspirational or gripping of programmes but it must have got under my skin as it did make me want to go back to Africa and see more of it for myself. I quite fancy a bit of an adventure.