Ah! Fresh bed Lenin

It’s nearly midnight and I have done as much today as a crofter in Orkney does in a week – not that I would know what a crofter does -i’m being metaphorical or is it physical?
Anyway after an interminable drive up from Sussex, I arrived at LBC half-an-hour late, due to an incident in Sarf Lundon.
The show was smooth, Steve, choreographed it as ever.
After three hours of chat I left Latimer Road and arrived back in battersea in time to have a Thai snack with my nearasdamnitson, who drove up from Wiltshire for a meeting and a hug.
He’s off on tour with the RSC.
Then I took the 239 bus to Victoria, the tube to Euston. Crossed Euston Road and took the second on the right to THE PLACE where I saw a young man, CURTIS JAMES, dance a solo piece. His heart on his sleeve and his sleeve in his mouth. It was wonderful.
Put my key in the door at 10.30. made up my bed with the sweetest smelling sheets, called two friends, one in Medway the other in Hollywood, and now, with my eyes nearly on my cheeks I am preparing for bed.
I will write a better blog tomorrow for tonight I am hot and bothered and in need of my sweet smelling linen. I’ve just noticed that linen is an anogram of Lenin, and your point is?
I’m tired.
night night
cu2morrer.