Photographing flowers

Almost everyone I know who has seen Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake has raved about it and I've wanted to see it since it first came out long ago. I couldn't get tickets for the new production in either London or Birmingham but I managed to get one for Bristol for this evening.

I enjoyed it, and I especially liked the unsaccharine hissing swans on the moonlit water, but I wouldn't rave about it. The narrative, such as it was, confused me. Not that it really matters - ballet stories are almost all just an excuse to dance - but I sneakily looked up a synopsis in the interval to try to understand the rest better and wasn't really enlightened. And I still don't know what Bourne was trying to say with his lead swan metamorphosed into abusive Alpha male.

That was all after an afternoon improving my bearings in Bristol (extra) and before an extremely late night chatting with son and girlfriend, whose new home I stayed in for the first time.