Hamlet, Butterflies, Boats and Cream Tea

It can only be Stratford-upon-Avon.

Last Friday I took Chief Boozemaid Becca on a long awaited mini break (very mini, just one night) the highlight of which was seeing David Tennant in the RSC production of Hamlet. My friend Melanie had booked tickets yonks ago, as soon as they went on sale and very kindly got me two as well.

And goodness me, what a performance. The English graduate within me would have many eloquent, intelligent words to say about David Tennant's portrayal of Hamlet but unfortunately I can't seem to find her at the moment. I think she might be squashed under the 3 big portions of chicken risotto I've just eaten (this new credit crunch culture of 'waste not want not' has turned me into something of a food enthusiastic, to put it mildly. Mozz now obediently recites the line "well, we don't want you wasting away" when I mutter something about "may as well just finish off that last little bit...")

But truly, Tennant's performance was remarkable and I feel very lucky to have seen it. The rest of the cast were of course brilliant too, Patrick Stewart in particular (ok, I can't remember any of the other actors' names but they all shone like shiney little Shakespearian stars).

After the play we ambled back to Melanie's party's hotel, The Falcon and passed a couple of pubs that certainly had a beckoning air of 'come on over to my place' about them (yet were shutting, Hamlet being not one of Shakey's shorts). Becca and I quickly resolved to come back to Stratford-upon-Avon again with more time for pub crawling.

And that was before we discovered the Butterfly Farm! And the boat trips! And the cream teas! And we haven't even started on the House of Shakespeare's cleaner's sister's illegitmate child yet.

So all in all a charming weekend that somehow set me back on track. Saturday I bounced back to London on the 15.39 resolved on spending an unproductive but hugely enjoyable evening on the sofa watching the X Factor and a crap film with Mozz (actually I don't know if it, Ocean's 13 as it turned out, was crap - I fell asleep 5 minutes in) and an unenjoyable but hugely productive Sunday culling my  wardrobe by one third, getting through five piles of laundry and doing many other long-put-off chores whilst Mozz painted the house, non stop (he can barely move his arms now).

As it turned out, I enjoyed Sunday hugely as well. And frankly, if life is still fun when you're washing your boyfriend's pants, it can't be all that bad.