Pining for the Northern Line

All it takes is a little puff of wind and the Manly Ferry stops running. Which rather inconveniences those of us who use it to travel to and from work.

It only took me two and a bit hours to get to the office this morning, a little longer than my usual, leisurely, hour long trip. I did, at least, manage to get out of the house though, unlike the brummie pseduo-salesman who last night stayed in and didn’t come to see Bill Bailey. Apparently he was concerned that his roof would blow off. Wuss.

Those of us who made it to the theatre had a great time. The part troll was hilarious. Truly, truly funny. Just don’t ask me to remember any of the jokes because I have this mental plug hole they all disappear down as soon as I leave the theatre.

Oh hang on, there was one – "A true sign of a gentleman is someone who can play the banjo but refrains from doing so." See, it’s not as funny if you weren’t there. I’d also like to point out that Mr Bailey is the finest theremin player I’ve seen since John Otway.

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