nunoncastors

Because I am a deeply flawed human being, I exhibited all the hallmarks of panic and trepidation on Tuesday when I began considering the possibility that two of my friends were in the process of stitching me right up. This might seem a little uncharitable, but there is a common humour between us that would have found such stitching gratifying.

Imagine, then, my unbridled joy upon discovering that we were not, as I’d previously suspected, going speed dating; we were off to see The Woman in Black. I have never been so relieved or excited in my entire life; it turns out that I do like surprises after all.

And ghost stories, I love ghost stories. There’s something primal about the way they tease and taunt the imagination until you’re hooked and, quite despite yourself, subject to the sudden shocks and frights of your own suggestible mind. The Woman in Black is one such tale, and the acting marvellously done. Quite simply, last night’s trip to the theatre was the best birthday present I’ve ever received.

Well, if you don’t count my catching Lindsay’s cold/flu/plague thing it was, and even then it’s a close run thing.