Kerry Jackson

An early drive to Edinburgh. Angus packs his bag while I accompany Ailsa on a quick circuit of Lochend Park with the dog. It’s still dark.

Ailsa drops us at Waverley, we stick up on M&S provisions, while away some minutes in Nero, and board the train. Luckily it was the one before ours that got cancelled - we depart on time.

In London, the tube whisks us to Waterloo. The south bank is mobbed, but we fight our way through the hordes to deposit our bags in the cloakroom of the Dorfman Theatre. Back outside, we get a couple of bowls of ramen from a food truck before heading back for a pre-show drink.

The play, called Kerry Jackson, stars Fay Ripley from Cold Feet. Funny, thought provoking, topical, and expletive-ridden - although I’m left wondering about the unlikely interactions between the six caricatured protagonists. The set is wonderful, with two interiors on the revolving turntable - one a tapas restaurant in a London suburb, the other the middle class kitchen of a recently widowed philosophy teacher. Angus and I both enjoy it, but it turns out that the pundits have a less positive experience.

Then it’s back to the tube and a trip to Paddington. Our train is mildly delayed. More coffee. And then we’re off. Mum picks us up at Bedwyn, and we settle into domestic comfort in front of the fire.