Runaround

BELIEVE IT OR NOT, it's easier to book a holiday on the far side of the world than to book tickets to a West End show in London.

The problem is that we can't just book it unless we know we have wheelchair access for My Good Lady.

The show in question is Les Misérables - one of greatest musicals of all time. It's been running for over twenty years in London; it's appeared, I believe, in 26 countries and in 15 or 16 languages to packed houses around the world.

Everyone I know who has seen it confirms it as "stunning", "brilliant" and "amazing".

Anyway, it's my sixtieth birthday this year, and I've never been to a real West End production. Les Miz is my choice - should hardly be a problem to get tickets you would think.

Oh dear, oh dear...

We look up the Queen's Theatre for tickets only to discover that we have to go through another website - a central ticket agency called Theatreland.

Unfortunately, they cannot say if the Queen's is wheelchair accessible (we believe it is) and in any case they are unable to help us in this matter. Contact the theatre direct, they tell us, and here is their number...

Except we find that the number has been discontinued.

My Good Lady and I discuss the matter and decide that maybe the best bet would be to book through a local travel agency - one of those special weekend theatre deals they are always advertising in the papers.

So we go along. Unfortunately, we are told, they cannot assist us, either for the tickets, or the hotel, or the train. A rather ditsy girl at the shop gives us the name of Theatreland and the number of the Queen's Theatre - the discontinued one - and tells us that we shall have to sort it all out ourselves.

By this time we are beginning to wonder if the effort is worth it.

We check on the train connection - and yes, encouraging news, there should be no problem actually getting to London.

Heartened, we go back to do some web surfing and find another telephone number for the Queen's Theatre.

This, however, turns out to be another central agency, and they give us yet another number - this time for direct access at the Queen's box office.

The access department proves to be closed until Monday...

I swear, we didn't have such a runaround in booking our holiday in Australia!

We plan to give it one more try, but if this nonsense goes on much longer we're just going to abandon the whole idea.

And I was so looking forward to seeing Les Miz as my birthday treat.

Repaired - and broken again.

WE GET A CALL this morning from the local computer shop: our laptop has been repaired - and, we're told, it won't cost the earth.

One of us - I'm too much the gentleman to say who - dropped the computer and damaged the DVD drawer; anyhow, it's been straightened. Great stuff, I can't tell you how much I've miss the laptop while it's been in dock.

We get it home this evening and after dinner we try to fire it up.

Nothing.

I can't believe it! Somehow, between leaving the shop and getting it home it seems to have got damaged again.

And this time, I fear it may be really serious; the power light comes on, but the computer remains dead.

Dead... Caput... Defunct... Unproductive...

I don't know why it is, but somehow an unresponsive computer is one of the most uselessly frustrating objects in all creation.

A car that won't start is only second on the list - on my list anyway.

I also seem to have been going through a phase in which I've suffered a number of domestic and personal setbacks of one sort or another.

The laptop is just the cherry on the cake.

Anyhow, tomorrow, it's back to the computer shop for further repair.

Drat it!