Monday, to see Stereophonic, a West End transfer of a Broadway drama that takes a fly-on-the-wall look at a fictional 1970s rock band struggling to record an album. It’s not based on Fleetwood Mac. Honest.
I imagine the playwright felt the best way to convey the endless grind of studio recording was to make the audience feel it too — it was long. But not based on Fleetwood Mac. Honest.
Sad news. Prunella Scales died this week. Loved for Fawlty Towers, but I really warmed to her in the canal journeys she did with her husband, Timothy West — beautiful, slow television that’s becoming rarer by the week.
The new breed of city-haters don’t want us to know that homicide rates in London are lower than all major US cities, and at a ten-year low.
I was in town on Thursday night. All was lovely. The Regent Street Christmas lights might have been under test. Carnaby Street lights are up, but not on.
Relatedly, unrelated: the Amazon Web Services outage shows infrastructure is at the mercy of American Big Tech. It’s bad for us all.
I really want to know if, when launching their newest thing, OpenAI wanted “Vibe Lifing” to become a thing. I suspect yes.
Oh, it’s not just agencies, Steve: “Have you ever looked up during an internal review and wondered ‘who the ✱✱ are all of these people?’”. Yup.
I think we might have had “one for the road” more than once on Thursday night. But Friday was actually a really interesting day at work, and I didn’t notice I was tired.
But then The Producers at The Garrick managed to keep me wide awake: I’d give it all the stars. I thought it was wonderful that it still works as satire. Who’s doing that kind of comedy today?
The Raynes Park branch of Lockdown Bakehouse had a steady stream of customers on Sunday morning. Great to see a new business in the area.
Later that day, quite a bit of “cupboard sorting”. Maybe I’ll start a TikTok; it seems like something that could make me a cleanfluencer.
Media
We are coming to the end of this season of Only Murders in the Building and, while I am still enjoying it, the robotic concierge character has stretched this one a little too far.
We have jumped on the Celebrity Traitors bandwagon—binging four episodes this weekend. I think we both wish there had been a few more hours (even if we did get an extra one on Saturday night). Don’t tell me anything.
Theatre, art, laughter, and music define a lively cultural week.
Week commencing Monday, 13 October 2025
Performers belt out The Boss’s greatest hits with unrestrained passion at The Crazy Coqs’ Bruce Springsteen tribute evening.
Quantified Self
This week: Stand 7/7; Exercise 4/7 and Move 6/7. (81%). Morning walks: 0/3 (days in the office don’t count). Office days 2/5. Total steps: 62,275
Life
Monday was a day of meetings. Quite glad I finished at 5:30 p.m., as trespassers at Clapham meant all the trains were messed up and we really crawled into Waterloo. Any later would have been bad.
The Bacchae at the Olivier, at the National. Not much ancient in this Greek tragedy: it’s loud, contemporary, and full of attitude. All modern language, plenty of swearing, and bursts of rap and spoken word. I had no expectations going in, which added to the enjoyment.
Back to the National again on Wednesday evening. This time, the Lyttelton, for Shakespeare. Hamlet is bouncy: all bravado, beanie hats and oversized jumpers, a performance full of energy and humour. Ophelia’s descent into madness was raw. But it dragged compared with the energy of The Bacchae.
Who knew that the Lucky Saint company, known for alcohol-free beer, operates a licensed pub in Marylebone called The Lucky Saint? We were definitely on the alcoholic beer: it served a rather good pint of Beamish.
Also, the clock finally got replaced. It’s surprising how often we looked at the space where the clock used to hang.
Sunday, lunch did not have the most auspicious of starts. We had to keep asking, but the food made up for it in the end. Still, a central London restaurant that couldn’t serve coffee at the end—really?
The weekend ended on a high: Crazy Coqs’ Bruce Springsteen night. I hadn’t realised how many songs I actually knew—or how much I enjoyed them all.
The Isle of Wight Steam Railway at Wootton station, where locomotives still produce their own clouds.
Quantified Self
This week: Stand 7/7; Exercise 4/7 and Move 6/7. (76%). Morning walks: 0/4 (days in the office don’t count). Office days 1/5. Total steps: 54,220
Life
Monday’s pub quiz was the first we’ve done as a foursome for a while. This week seemed very hard, but with a bit of luck on the wipeout round, we came 3rd.
Sign of the times: the Reform Party are putting electioneering leaflets through the door. What bothers me most is that their description of London is not my lived experience.
Wednesday night at the Trafalgar Theatre to see Heartstopper’s Joe Locke in Clarkston. Locke confirms his stage chops; he’s good, even if the character is not a million miles from his Heartstopper role. But Ruaridh Mollica is a revelation as Chris — all brooding tension and coiled anxiety.
Thursday evening to the Isle of Wight. Managed to make the earlier FastCat, which makes all the difference. Why does my Wightlink app continually show an expired ticket pass rather than the active one? It makes the moment of ticket scanning a lottery.
It was the Ryde Beer Festival — although we ended up with cider at The Star on Friday. Sadly, it wasn’t very busy, and as the northerners in the middle had another drink, their conversation became louder than the musician.
Another sign of the times: MTV to axe its music TV channels in the UK. I’m surprised this didn’t happen a while ago. Does anybody watch music anywhere other than YouTube and, in my case, old BBC Four reruns of Top of the Pops (lots of 1990s-era episodes this week).
Media
Fearne Cotton’s Happy Place podcast on the train. Radio 1’s Greg James was the guest, primarily promoting his new book. The overall message is about “not letting go of that inner child” and navigating “how to grow up without growing old.”
Still haven’t heard The Life of a Showgirl, although I did listen to some of the Scott Mills interview with her.
A joyful week of celebration, reflection, and festive discoveries shared.
Week commencing Monday, 29 September 2025
Bantof Restaurant Soho’s Tahini Aubergine.
Quantified Self
This week: Stand 4/7; Exercise 4/7 and Move 6/7. (66%). Office days 2/5. Total steps: 52,319
Life
Sad news. Patricia Routledge dies aged 96. Forever etched in my mind as Kitty: A shifty-looking youth in plimsolls came and waggled my aerial and wolfed my Gypsy Creams, but that’s the comprehensive system for you.
Straight from the office on Wednesday to our anniversary dinner — a gorgeous little restaurant in Soho. Our table was on the ground floor; it’s intimate and a bit stylish. PY went to look at the outdoor terrace, which he said was great. The meal was mainly shared plates, which got a bit complex on the small table. We started with English sparkling to toast the years.
Related, the service was exemplary: attentive and efficient.
In the office twice this week. Much excitement about the big party on Thursday night, which I skipped in favour of a train and ferry to the Isle of Wight. The next morning, there was no gossip, but also a very quiet group of colleagues.
So, ID cards are back on the table. I expected more discussion this week. Maybe I missed it, but I did read about how they will work. And I wrote a thing.
On Saturday, we discovered that bacon cooked in the air fryer makes much less smoke and is still delicious. We repeated the process on Sunday morning before the boat returned.
If the Christmas countdown began last week, the Christmas World visit this weekend was good. The lack of festive music made it feel off, but I don’t blame them for not using those playlists just yet.
Engineering works meant the train journey home went the long way round. We stopped off in Woking to see Christine and David on the way.
Only Murders in the Building continues to be enjoyable, but I am wondering how long they can keep the interest with the theme. The robot concierge amused me.
We started watching more Slow Horses, but we are a season behind. Season 4 is, thankfully, still great.
Taylor (at this point, do we need to say Swift?) released her twelfth album, The Life of a Showgirl, and managed to appear on most of the major breakfast music shows on radio. Although not with Scott on Radio 2 — he’s on holiday, so she’ll have to wait for that interview to be played next week. I wonder how the PR negotiations went on that one? I haven’t heard the album yet.
But when do you start counting? PY and I go right back to the beginning, because when we met, there was no possibility of marriage. We still get lovely anniversary cards celebrating a different date (albeit yesterday) because that’s when we had a partnership.
The option of marriage came many years later, and by then, we were already counting, so we weren’t going to go backwards. But given the amount of time people live together before marriage these days, even those who have always been able to have a ceremony, I wondered if there was any data on the trend. So I had a quick look to see where Google may point me.
The Office for National Statistics suggests that over the past 30 years, British couples have waited increasingly longer before marrying. In the early 1990s, many couples wed within a couple of years of meeting, often without living together first; only about 60% cohabited before marriage in 1994. Today, over 90% of couples cohabit before marrying, and surveys show the average relationship lasts around 4.9 years before the wedding.
I found an article on brides.com which summed up the very modern problem of which date, “Deciding which anniversaries to celebrate as the years go on is very partner/marriage specific”.
So, the trend is rising marriage ages and the normalisation of long-term cohabitation. In that case, the date of any ‘anniversary’ that may be celebrated is likely to change to reflect better how long people have been together. In the end, I guess an anniversary should be what the couple define it to be – a personal milestone worthy of a big celebration or a quiet meal in Soho. Perhaps, PY and I are right. It’s when you met, not when you signed the paper.
UK’s digital ID revival rekindles old doubts about trust, privacy, and control.
A relic from the UK’s 2004 biometric identity card trial – an official demonstration card complete with chip that served no purpose beyond showing what the future might have looked like, had it ever arrived.
Back in 2003, I wavered. The government wanted us to carry ID cards; I wasn’t convinced, but I wasn’t completely against them either. My main worries were privacy and the lack of proper debate. It felt like something too important to be slipped through quietly. I did take part in a 2004 Passport Service trial of biometrics, which I imagine paved the way for the biometric border controls we have today. But, they did give you a little identity card: it couldn’t be used for anything, but it might have been the start of something.
Now, more than twenty years later, here we go again — but this time it’s not a plastic card in your wallet, it’s a digital identity on your phone. The sales pitch is familiar: security, fraud prevention, migration control, efficiency. The packaging has changed — “digital wallet,” “verification services,” even the cheerfully tabloid nickname “BritCard” — but the underlying tension is the same. How much do we give the state in return for the promise of convenience and safety?
I can’t help but notice the parallels. In 2006, the Identity Cards Act reached Royal Assent, yet the scheme collapsed under its own weight: too expensive, too intrusive, too unloved. Today’s plan is billed as leaner and smarter: no centralised biometric database (at least not yet), a free app instead of a paid-for card, targeted use cases like “Right to Work” checks rather than a universal compulsion. Progress, of sorts.
But the old worries remain. Function creep is the classic risk: once the technology is there, the temptation to expand it will be irresistible. And for those excluded — the people without smartphones, the ones who struggle with digital bureaucracy — “alternatives” often mean long queues and clunky paper processes.
That temptation to expand is not theoretical. We’ve seen how governments argue for back doors into encrypted messaging or demand that companies like Apple weaken their security “for national security reasons.” If a digital identity scheme exists, the same logic applies: today it’s Right to Work checks, tomorrow it could be banking, housing, or even access to encrypted communications themselves. The concern isn’t just about convenience or cost; it’s about whether a tool created in the name of efficiency slowly becomes a lever of control.
We don’t even need to speculate to see how this plays out. In Spain, where the FNMT digital certificate has become the de facto way of dealing with the state, the risks are clear enough. Citizens have been tricked by phishing emails promising their certificate was “ready” — only to deliver a Trojan instead. Trust has also been shaken when FNMT itself let key certificates expire, triggering browser warnings on its own official pages. A system sold as frictionless, in practice, adds its own layers of risk and dependency — and once embedded, it’s very hard to opt out.
So, two decades on, has my thinking shifted? Maybe only slightly. The technology is better, and in theory the safeguards stronger, but my scepticism hasn’t gone away. If anything, the experience of the last twenty years — hacks, leaks, surveillance scandals — makes me more cautious. A shiny app doesn’t change the fundamental question: do we trust the state with the keys to our identity? Or are we just being asked to trade the old plastic for a sleeker way of showing our papers at the digital border?
Still, at least if it all goes wrong, we won’t have to cut up a plastic card — we’ll just delete an app and hope the database forgets us too.
Good news: British Airways have already confirmed they are paying out for both the lost baggage and the flight. I wrote-up the second-week of the holiday. It was probably all in last week’s notes, so you might not need to go and read the new words.
Thursday: “Fancy a quick drink after work?” turned into a mini product team evening—and maybe one too many. A good night after all.
Friday dinner in Woking with family was from the nearby Lebanese restaurant. What appeared not to be enough food turned out to be too much.
Caterina’s birthday drinks were in The Crosse Keys in the City. The cavernous ex-banking hall turned Wetherspoons was a very impressive space. Lots of prosecco made for a lovely afternoon.
Sunday, we were volunteering at the Vitality London 10,000 run. We gave finishers their medals. A lot of ribbon and metal needed unpacking from boxes, separating and stacking even before the first runners commenced. Some of those who had opted out of medals were not happy when they couldn’t receive one, but they can apply afterwards—and there were spares. Much fun congratulating people who’d finished.
Media
Only Murders in the Building is back for season 5 and, so far, I am still very much enjoying it.
Argentina travel journal — from the clouds of El Chaltén to the roar of Iguazú Falls, four remarkable days between sky and water.
We’ve been back from Argentina for a few days. I am currently coping OK with the remnants of the jet lag. I feel sleepy in the late afternoon, but I am not sure that’s very unusual. I should get up and have a walk; instead, I make more coffee.
I wrote about the first part of the trip, which was centred on Buenos Aires, and before it all becomes a distant memory, I want to write about the second part of the holiday.
This second week was much less urban and more about discovering two different regions. At one end, we were on the border with Chile; at the other, with Brazil. Both were incredible. If we include the first part of our trip, it was three holidays in one. I can’t pick a favourite place, as they were all so different.
Monday, 15 September 2025 — Condors, Clouds and a Canine Companion
A solitary refuge stands dwarfed by the dramatic Patagonian wilderness near El Chaltén, where ancient rock formations meet snow-dusted peaks in Argentina’s trekking capital.
We spent the day exploring Los Glaciares National Park from El Calafate. After an early start and a coffee stop, we hiked up a hill near El Chaltén for views that were mostly hidden by low cloud but still impressive. I was nervous about the climb but glad I didn’t skip it. Rain arrived for our visit to Chorrillo del Salto waterfall, and we ate our hotel’s packed lunch in a hostel while others took the set meal. Back in town, I had another excellent steak while one of the local dogs rested his chin on my leg until my plate was empty — perfectly normal here, if unimaginable at home.
Tuesday, 16 September 2025 — Early Flights and Empty Lounges
An Aerolíneas Argentinas jet receives attention from ground crew at Aeroparque Jorge Newbery
The alarm went off at 5 a.m. for a long travel day from El Calafate to Buenos Aires and on to Iguazú. Check-in opened at 7 a.m. for the only flight of the morning, followed by a cramped plane, repeated security checks and a crowded lounge during the connection. Our second flight was delayed but arrived by sunset. The Iguazú Falls Hotel and Spa was beautiful, though its dinner buffet — served oddly in a conference hall — proved more quantity than quality. The mosquitoes stayed away, so our repellents were unnecessary.
Wednesday, 17 September 2025 — Iguazú: The Power and the Falls
Visitors crowd the walkways jutting into the Iguaçu River for a front-row seat to one of nature’s most spectacular performances, where hundreds of cascades thunder into the gorge below at Brazil’s magnificent Iguaçu National Park.
We spent the day at the Iguazú Falls on both sides of the border. Our tour took us first to Brazil for the sweeping views and then across to Argentina for the Gran Aventura boat ride that drenched us completely but was thrilling nonetheless. The ecological train and Devil’s Throat walkway at the end were unforgettable. That night we took a taxi into Puerto Iguazú, had steak and Malbec, and arranged our return by WhatsApp — a surprisingly efficient local system — before finishing the day with cocktails at the hotel when wine wasn’t available by the glass.
At one point, we ordered sandwiches that turned out to be hamburgers, and that’s noted in my diary.
Thursday, 18 September 2025 — Three Countries, Two Beers, One Perfect Pizza
Colourful monuments representing Argentina, Paraguay, and Brazil mark the tri-border area at Hito Tres Fronteras, where the Iguazú and Paraná rivers converge to create one of South America’s most unique geographical meeting points.
We had a relaxed morning before visiting the Triple Frontera, where Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay meet. From the Argentinian obelisk, we looked across the rivers to the other two countries, then enjoyed beers and the view from a nearby restaurant. By afternoon, we were flying back to Buenos Aires, and my luggage arrived on the carousel. For our final evening, we joined the pizza queues on Corrientes Avenue and found a table at Güerrín, sharing a half-and-half pizza — olives and peppers on one side, pepperoni on the other — a fitting end to the trip.
I’m still trying to process the holiday. There was so much involved. We didn’t depart until a Monday, after finishing work on a Friday. I wish we’d been bolder and taken the late plane on the Friday. Assuming there were no delays, we’d have had three extra days. Who knows what gems we might have discovered?
Adventures, airports, waterfalls, and re-entry — travel tales beautifully grounded.
Week commencing Monday, 15 September 2025
Tourists aboard a boat excursion approach the thundering cascades of Iguazu Falls on the Argentina-Brazil border, where getting soaked is not just likely—it’s the entire point.
Quantified Self
This week: Stand 6/7; Exercise 4/7 and Move 6/7. (76 %). Total steps: 77,891
Life
The week started back in a Patagonian national park with a hike up for a view that was lost in the clouds. The other English speaker on the bus didn’t seem that interested in the tour.
In the evening, I ate my steak while one of the local strays laid his head on my lap for as long as the steak was on my plate. As soon as it was gone, he lost interest. Nobody seemed concerned. Can you imagine the health-and-safety implications in the UK?
Tuesday was a fly day: fly back to Buenos Aires but don’t leave the airport before taking off again bound for Iguazú. The views from El Calafate Airport were great. In Buenos Aires the lounge was packed, and it was dark by the time we landed in the north.
PY’s ‘bucket list’ used to include a trip to see the Iguazú Falls. It’s not on the list anymore as we crossed it off on Wednesday.
Friday was a return flight. Iberia seats were more exposed to the aisle so I didn’t sleep well. Or maybe it was the hours of turbulence that kept me awake. I was very ready for the landing.
Related, on Saturday morning we were almost first in the lounge and first in the shower queue. I had a little bottle of plane wine on the last leg of the holiday back to London, even though it was only 10 a.m. It felt like yesterday.
Sunday brought a gentle re-entry to London life. In a bid to keep busy, we decided to visit the This is Oxford Street event, where the street was closed to traffic and given over to music, food, fashion pop-ups, and other entertainment — a glimpse of what full pedestrianisation might mean.
Related, if this is what it means, it’ll be a bonanza for the retailers: the place was packed.
Media
I finished The Janson Directive and can confirm that it was meaty enough that the other books were unnecessary baggage.
Lost luggage, perfect steaks, tango nights, glaciers, and joyful discovery.
Week commencing Monday, 8 September 2025
Proof that Buenos Aires is literally growing on you.
Quantified Self
This week: Stand 7/7; Exercise 6/7 and Move 7/7. (96%). Holiday time. Total steps: 105,183
Life
We’d done twilight check-in. We woke at 3 am. All was on plan until the email explained our first flight (to Madrid) was cancelled and everything had to be changed. We opted not to go back home, but spending an entire day at Heathrow was harder than I expected, even with lounge access.
Related, I imagine if I were in corporate espionage, I’d sit in the BA lounge listening to all the calls.
The flight stopped in Rio, where most of the passengers disembarked, while only a few continued. Somebody had left duty-free items in the overhead locker above me, and they had to be removed before we could depart.
At baggage collection, it soon became clear that I wasn’t going to get a suitcase. I was remarkably calm. They were remarkably good at getting it to me.
Day one: after clothes shopping, dinner was Parrilla Don Julio, a steak restaurant ranked number 10 on the World’s 50 Best Restaurants list in 2024. It’s obvious why. This will not be a meat-free holiday.
On day two, even though we’d just arrived, we crossed the Río de la Plata to Colonia del Sacramento in Uruguay. Easy to travel. Beautiful old town.
Thursday: a tourist bus ticket took us to La Boca, specifically El Caminito, the little street that has become one of Buenos Aires’s most distinctive sights. The corrugated-iron houses, splashed in bright reds, yellows and blues, felt like they had been painted to lift the mood of anyone passing by.
Dinner was a tango show at La Ventana — powerful, elegant dancers paired with live musicians, singers and even bursts of Argentine folk. We were surprised by the Don’t Cry for Me Argentina portions, having been told the country didn’t really take Andrew Lloyd Webber’s interpretation of its history to heart.
Birthday Friday was a lot of great things, but the chef’s counter at Fogón Asado — a twist on Argentina’s traditional barbecue, with about ten guests seated around the open fire as each cut of meat is prepared in front of us — was a real highlight treat. It’s very up close and personal with the chef and the sommelier. Luckily, they were both lovely.
Saturday: a flight south where my luggage kept pace with me. It wasn’t beef here; it was lamb.
After boarding, before sleeping, I watched The Salt Path and The Amateur. They passed a few hours of the flight to Buenos Aires.
I am not reading as much on this holiday as I had assumed. On the 14-hour flight I read nothing. At least I’ve started The Janson Directive, and it’s a meaty enough book that it might last the trip and mean the other books were unnecessary baggage.
What began in chaos turned into a celebration of Argentina’s food, warmth and effortless charm — proof that even the most delayed journeys can lead to perfect adventures.
It’s always been a goal of mine to visit South America, but I’ve never managed it until now. Somehow, we acquired enough Avios points for a return flight to Argentina and so booked a trip that would allow us to explore the country — from the vast, bustling capital city, south to the glaciers and north to the hot, humid waterfalls.
This week we started the journey, and I kept a diary: my own anthology of travel tales. Unfortunately, the collection opened with delayed flights and missing luggage, but it quickly morphed into steak and fine wine. Buenos Aires, it turns out, rewards patience with Malbec and charm in roughly equal measure.
Day One: Lost Luggage, Found Malbec
Buenos Aires’ transformed docklands meet modern luxury.
The journey began with more drama than you really want when flying. British Airways cancelled, rebooked, and generally conspired to keep us in Heathrow longer than any sane traveller should be. By the time we reached Buenos Aires, my bags had apparently decided to see the world on their own schedule. But a bottle (or two) of Argentine red at, officially, one of the world’s best restaurants did wonders for morale. I’m not saying wine solved everything, but it certainly softened the edges. Somewhere between The Salt Path on the in-flight entertainment and late-night Buenos Aires jet lag, I started to think this trip was worth the chaos.
Lighthouse photobombs a perfectly good street scene.
As the second proper day dawned, we headed for the Río de la Plata and a day trip across to Uruguay. The Buquebus terminal was far slicker than the internet had led us to believe, and passport control was remarkably more efficient than the tales you can read elsewhere. Colonia del Sacramento turned out to be all cobbles, calm and colonial charm — the sort of place that exists to make Instagram jealous (but I was so taken with the place I didn’t post a picture). We paid for the hotel pick-up, only to discover later it would have been fine (and cheaper) to walk. Consider this information a small donation to your travel guide. In the evening, we discovered the vibrant energy of Avenida Corrientes and Buenos Aires’ theatre district. And no, we didn’t queue for tickets for a midnight performance, but next time we just might.
Day Three: Buses, Bonhomie and Buenos Aires’ Brightest Streets
Corrugated iron never looked this fabulous.
We gave our feet a break and let the tourist bus do the work — an unexpectedly efficient way to see a city that sprawls as confidently as Buenos Aires. From the leafy calm of Palermo to the bright murals of La Boca, we ticked off the postcard highlights without ever breaking a sweat. Every stop offered something different: the solemn beauty of Recoleta Cemetery, the grandeur of the Teatro Colón, and the kind of boulevards that make you wonder if Paris might have borrowed a few ideas from here rather than the other way around. It was the perfect combination of adventure and sightseeing, capped off with a tango show that had enough energy to power Greater Buenos Aires’ ten million people.
Day Four: The Fire, the Feast and the Fifteenth Course
Front-row seats to carnivore’s dream show.
The finale of this leg of the trip came, appropriately, with fire. My birthday dinner turned into a culinary marathon that blurred the line between “meal” and “endurance event”. Fifteen courses later, I concluded that Argentine chefs possess brilliance, an ability to withstand the heat of a volcano, and a slight disregard for the human capacity to eat perfectly cooked meat. Earlier, there was time for a little history: the grandeur of the El Ateneo bookshop, the stories of Plaza de Mayo, and a reminder that Argentina’s beauty is matched only by its complexity.
We ended the first leg of this trip full — of food, of stories, and of gratitude for every minor inconvenience that somehow made the whole thing better. Because if travel teaches anything, it’s that a lost suitcase is just the first chapter of a much better tale.
Tomorrow we’re heading south. There’s so much more to explore in Buenos Aires. We’ll be back, briefly, next week.
Lively week of quizzes, theatre, good company and smooth travel
Week commencing Monday, 1 September 2025
The airport winds down for the evening as viewed from the Thistle Hotel
Quantified Self
This week: Stand 7/7; Exercise 6/7 and Move 6/7. (90%). Morning walks: 0/4 (days in the office don’t count). Office days 1/5. Total steps: 69,528
Life
Once again, the week started with a quiz. And again, we ended up in the ninth-place tiebreaker (as a reminder, that’s good). The lady who answered ‘Tainted Love’ was too quick off the mark for Ben. Always fun!
I had a Christmas planning session with my brother. It’s only just September.
Unusually, I had an office day on Wednesday. The journey to the Barbican that followed should have been straightforward. As it was, I ran into the auditorium just in time for the house lights to go out.
Related, Sean Hayes is very good in Good Night, Oscar. Lots of discussion afterwards about whether it was based on a true story (yes) and whether he really could play the piano (also yes).
Thursday was one of those office days where I said what I really felt and then apologised for it. I don’t think I should have done. But all good.
Related, as a consequence, the work social in the pub could have been messy but ended up being very restrained.
I finished Friday on time, which must be a first before a holiday. We went to visit a new pub, The Leather Bottle, and it was nice.
Related, on the way home, we picked up a ‘hot honey’ pizza and then noticed ‘hot honey’ is everywhere. Is it a trend I am missing?
Saturday: is it unusual to admit I find my dentist funny and enjoy going?
A lovely lady in NatWest helped me with a banking problem 25 years in the making. All will be resolved.
On Sunday afternoon, the Heathrow T5 pods marked the start of the holiday. In the restaurant, it was busier than on previous visits. The planes were taking off in the other direction.
Media
Radio 2 In The Park was a remarkably good listen considering the number of times they cross-promoted watching it on iPlayer.
Busy travel week ends with sunshine, laughter, and shared Sunday lunch.
Week commencing Monday, 25 August 2025
Visitors make the most of the glorious sunshine on Ryde beach
Quantified Self
This week: Stand 7/7; Exercise 6/7; Move 6/7 (90%). Morning walks: 0/3 (days in the office don’t count). Office days: 1/4. Total steps: 42,163
Life
Bank Holiday Monday brought beautiful weather. I’ve never seen the Ryde beaches so busy.
T and guests arrived by 11:30, and the women were in the sea before 12:30. We went for a quick snack at lunch. They were fine in the flat all week.
On Monday afternoon, we left them in the flat and headed towards London. The 2:45 pm FastCat crossing was a bit bumpy, but it didn’t stop the scramble for the sundeck. We had too many bags, so we enjoyed the front indoor window seats instead.
The return to the Island on Friday evening faced more travel delays. Not trains this time — Wight Ryder I was taken out of service just as we were about to board, and Wight Ryder II was brought in to replace it 20 minutes later.
Trains weren’t going to let the ferry take this week’s delay crown. On Monday, split tickets saved us money on the return journey, but then we missed our connection, and I wished we hadn’t tried to save a few pounds. Early on Sunday morning, my Avanti service left Euston 20 minutes late when it should have been rushing me towards Shrewsbury, and later in the day my London Northwestern service was cancelled due to staff shortages. I log these now so that one day I’ll be able to say, “it got better”.
Sunday lunch was excellent in Shrewsbury, and later we had coffee outside a hotel bar that we all thought used to be a fitness club.
Oh, some of the characters in the Thursday Murder Club are exactly as I imagined when reading — some not. I wonder why elements from other books are revealed this early. I quite enjoyed it. Celia Imrie is wonderful. The retirement home seems over the top.
Vaccinations, scooters, cinema and sunshine — chaos turns into calm joy.
Week commencing Monday, 18 August 2025
Cruise ship passes through the Solent with Portsmouth’s skyline in the background
Quantified Self
This week: Stand 7/7; Exercise 4/7 and Move 5/7. (76%). Morning walks: 0/4 (days in the office don’t count). Office days 1/5. Total steps: 61,979
Life
We left it late for travel vaccinations. After finding and completing a form buried on the NHS website, the surgery called, and I got an appointment within 48 hours, receiving the vaccines on Wednesday morning. Still needed to source some privately: Superdrug does travel clinics. Who knew?
Then, when attending the clinic on Thursday — chaos: Superdrug had no Yellow Fever jabs and hadn’t contacted me. After a scramble across London, I finally got vaccinated in Earlsfield.
Monday brought an interesting call with the insurance company. It was helpful but neither clarified nor reassured me.
Tuesday, went to the Grease-themed Secret Cinema in Battersea Park. Clever mix of film and live performance, complete with fairground, Rydell High sets and a live band — easily one of the best immersive events I’ve done.
Related, I dressed (almost) appropriately in a white T-shirt and bomber jacket, ate chicken burgers to a ’50s soundtrack and ended the night dancing and singing along to the big numbers in the outdoor finale.
Wednesday evening, I opened the fridge door to see what fresh ingredients needed using up. I spoke the list into my phone with one of the AI chatbots open and within seconds had a recipe that turned out to be delicious and stopped food waste. We really are living in the future. Hey Siri, where are my jet-boots?
Related, leftovers went into the freezer. I still can’t get labels to stick to the plastic boxes used. Perhaps we’re not so much in the future after all.
Thursday, back-to-back meetings all day, including a repeat run-through of an incident fix and a ham sandwich eaten off-camera in yet another planning session.
Later, we were lucky to find the Portsmouth train on the platform before it was announced, which meant we grabbed a table seat and tucked into meal-deal dinners en route. By the time of the 21:45 crossing it was dark, but the sea was calm and the sailing pleasant.
Up to 10,000 scooterists on The Island for what’s reportedly the world’s biggest scooter rally. We went to The Star for an evening of appropriately themed music.
We returned on Saturday night for a different musical vibe, having spent the day walking by the sea.
We went back again on Sunday lunchtime for even more chilled-out music. Then, to RT Cafe Grill for lunch, where the spiced tempura lobster and prawn burger was delicious — but at those prices, I shouldn’t have to ask twice for mayonnaise.
