Never going to Ipswich again!

Reginald D Hunter was a bit of (to quote Craig Revell-Hallward) a “disarster, darhling.” It was lovely to see Canaries Chick again, and we’ve agreed to start up going to the cinema again – once a month – but everything else – disaster! Her Sat Nav was a useless idiot and couldn’t find the car park it was programmed to do – we ended up driving through the pedestrian precinct(!) because the Sat Nav insisted. We found a carpark, parked and found we were on the wrong side of town for the theatre, so got a taxi. Then the theatre wasn’t open and there wasn’t anywhere to eat within striking distance, and when we were finally allowed in – a plastic bottle of coke, an orange juice and two packets of crisps (hardly the champagne bar I was expecting) was SEVEN POUNDS. The barmaid even had the gall to ask if we wanted glasses. I rather felt that for that price I’d expect someone to hold the glass up to my mouth while I sucked. Ipswich does not have much class, it seems. Also, the town is a dump, which is a crying shame as you can see medieval buildings which aren’t even being looked after.

And the show was a bit disappointing too – his warm up act, Steve Hughes, who I’d seen briefly before was very funny in a conspiracy theory ranty sort of way, but Reginald was not really how I expected. He started well, well soon got rather drunk – he was drinking vodka solidly for an hour, and then just seemed to lose the thread of what he was talking about, had more vodka, had a lot of silences, had more vodka – then started telling a rambling story about Sex in the City 2 which seemed entirely pointless. We had to leave before the end to make sure I got the train – but I don’t think we missed much.

A bit of a let down! But it was lovely to see CC – and it got me out of the house! It was bloody freezing though, and I’m very glad I got the train, I wouldn’t have wanted to drive around Ipswich in the dark. What a dump!

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