The best medicine

I had one of my better meetings this morning before it was time to finish packing and catch the train to London.

On boarding the train, I was surprised at the absence of face masks and more than slightly perturbed to find that my seat was in the middle of a rowdy hen party. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, I was relieved to find another, better seat, so plugged in and enjoyed a very relaxing trip.

It was a slightly odd feeling to be going to London on my own dime and not dressed in a suit, so I was determined to make the most of it. I took a walk around a bustling Leicester Square and through Chinatown and couldn’t help but smile.

Wanting to maintain the buzz, I booked a ticket for The Play That Goes Wrong (one of the main benefits of travelling alone is that you can usually get a seat ANYWHERE), before taking a walk to Westminster to prove to the wee ones that Big Ben was still enshrouded in scaffolding.

Pizza in the park under sparkly lights was delicious and before long it was showtime, which was just as funny and absurd as you might expect. But the laughter, gentle reader. Oh, the laughter of a large group of people thoroughly enjoying a shared experience again. Something so simple and yet it is so easy to forget just how important it is.

I collapsed into my surprisingly large bed for the money, feeling fantastic and like my batteries had been recharged.

Just as well, as they will need to be at full capacity tomorrow.