London and Cricket at Chesterfield

Had a lovely weekend celebrating 20 years together: got up early for train to London on Saturday (sold to me as 'fancy breakfast at Brunos?') and then after a brilliant breakfast we did a visit to Selectadisc in the South (aka Sister Ray), a trip to the National Gallery Fakes exhibition, a stroll down past Houses of Parliament to Tate Britain, and then a wander round Rude Britannia (better than the name suggests, not a good as it good be).

We then dodged our first shower of the day (the forecast had been for a lot of rain) and wandered along the Strand and up to Covent Garden where we took in the madness that was the launch of the new Apple Store.

Insanity.

We then headed back to the Southbank and went to see the Hip-Hop Shakespeare event with MC Marechal from Brazil (part of the Brazil festival). [Read a preview here]

This was a fabulous event, making clear the connections between hip-hop beats and Shakespearean rhythms and language. Truly inspiring and though I wished I had the Portuguese to have been able to fully appreciate the linguistic talent of Marechal's impassioned performance, his meaning was clearly conveyed.

Wonderful.

We then dodged another shower (and there were no more!) and meandered along the south bank, before trotting over to Waterloo and then making our way for tea at our second favourite London Italian, Ristorante Cappuccetto near Cambridge Circus.

We threw the staff a curveball by ordering three mains and a side salad (we have become addicted to their gnocchi with gorgonzola, but it isn't enough on its own so we share it AND have a main each as well. Yes I know: greedy.) But it was lovely. I think they were quite shocked at us clearing our plates so well.

After that it was a slow wander back to St Pancras, almost taking in a viewing of Sherlock Holmes' abode.

We didn't get in until about 1am after the train home but it was worth it. And we think we saw a hare on the car park...

Sunday was a slow get-up but we had to be on the ball as Nick was coming over to go with us to Chesterfield for a classic cricket match: Derbyshire v Yorkshire in a one-day game.

Cricket is gloriously pointless but wonderful. And when accompanied by food and company for conversation it is perfect.

Okay, so the deployment of a troupe of young women in gym clothes with pom-poms doing cheerleader dances was like feminism never happened, and the cries of "Yorkshire, Yorkshire'* from bevied up Yorkies wasn't great fun to sit with, but the sun was out and the weather lovely and we grazed on good food all day.

Marvellous.

Even if Derbyshire lost.

(Maybe serves them right for having cheerleaders. And for using the cheesiest promo line for the sponsor 'AutoWorld' -- "big enough to manage, small enough to care".)

And then home in time for Sherlock's big finale of the first run. Worth coming home for.


*That wasn't the worst of the chants. Bairstow, Bairstow, where's your dad was another. Jonathan Bairstow is a Yorkshire player whose player father, David Bairstow, killed himself. Classy, Yorkshire fans, classy.