Caroline celebrated her birthday yesterday. We had a great family day in Manchester (Caroline got a bag she had been hankering after for ages), tea at Croma (where I had the Christmas dinner pizza, mmmm) and then on to The Halle where Carl Davis conducted theme tunes from James Bond movies.
We all loved the concert, Honor Blackman was doing the links between the different themes and our favourite (Alex and I) was Quantum of Solace. It was a thumping rendition by The Halle which made the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. How these composers write this stuff, I will never know.
We've a plumber coming later to fix the tap on our kitchen sink, so I'm expecting lots of tutting and headscratching to push up the twenty minute job into at least an hour, with parts, labour, callout and two season tickets to a premiership team of his choice being added onto the bill.
I have a theory that somebody, somewhere, sends out some sort of major electrical pulse, undetected by humans, which interferes with everything in your house from boilers, taps, dishwashers, tumble dryers and washing machines particularly, in order to optimise retail footfall and give all the tradesmen a boost at Christmas. All of our stuff, without exception, always seems to go wrong at Christmas and this years no different. I may have to deploy a "I'm a trading standards officer" when he asks me what I do for a living, always gives them a scare.
I'm going to start re-watching Prison Break today, another one of those epic American TV shows which has become cult viewing, bit like Sopranos, Lost and 24. It's one of those series where I've watched nearly all of it, but missed the odd episode for one reason or another and - as usual - the plot is so complex that tiny fragments of information are often needed to piece together the storyline. So, I'm going to start again, from episode 1 and see it right through.
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