I was taken on a mystery outing this evening, a late extra birthday present from my mother and sisters. First there was supper cooked by my sisters, then off we went past the Christmas lights in the trees along the streets of Camden, Islington, Farringdon, Blackfriars and Waterloo to the surprise destination. I love surprises (well, nice ones), and this was a good one.
They kept me guessing until we turned on to the South Bank. Somehow my sister had bought tickets to the sell-out production at the Lyttelton Theatre of August: Osage County. I had tried to buy tickets earlier this month but they are sold out for the entire run of the play. My sister remains enigmatic on how she acquired the seats. My mother had even brought chocolate ginger and Christmas cake for the (two) intervals. I wore my new Hourglass sweater, which I finished yesterday (and which I am loathe to take off).
Photograph: Karen Robinson (borrowed from The Guardian)
I should, I realise, say something learned and wittily critical about the play, but I tend to think that people far better at reviewing have already said much on the topic. It's won myriad awards, as have the cast members, and deservedly so.