The other day, my husband arranged a “surprised date” for us. He said, “Tuesday evening. The kids have babysitters. We’re going out. It’s a surprise. Just dress WARM.”

Don’t get me wrong, I love surprises. But I hate the not-being-prepared bit.

WARM for subartic temperatures? I mean, are we going skiing?
WARM for a helicopter ride down the river? Will I have to tie my hair up?
WARM for a windy stroll by the beach? Jeans is fine right?
WARM for two hours sitting in an air-conditioned theatre?
WARM for a brisk walk from a car to a nightclub where I’ll leave my jacket at the door anyway?

In the end, he cracked and gave me more info. “We’re watching a PLAY!”

We watched a Harold Pinter play, The Caretaker. It was one of those serious, character focused stories by a literary genius, deeply poignant and thought provoking - perhaps a bit too heavy for me to digest on a Tuesday evening.

The performances were great though. There’s something very seductive about live performances in small arty theatres. Especially when you’re sitting 3 rows from the front, you can smell the dust and wood from the sets, smell the smoke from the actor’s cigarettes, see the wrinkles on their faces, see spit fly from their mouths as they talk, and feel your body resonate when their shouts echo through the hall. And it also helps when 2 of the 3 actors are complete hotties.

It was a lovely evening!

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