Promises? Deadlines?

What promises? What fucking deadlines?

The night before last I said that on Wednesday evening I would write about the Magical Mystery Tour, Neil Diamond and Goldfrapp. I didn't. Instead I decided that it would be nice to spend time with Jennifer, as she was heading South today to visit her cousin and spend other time with her folks.

I didn't spend time with Jennifer. In fact the evening was quite frustrating. Now I wish that I had just given up, come up here to the back room, turned on the computer, and got going with writing up the remainder of the weekend.

We ate our tea. I washed up. I went back to the front room. I asked Jennifer what she wanted to do. She said that we could watch a film, or start on the last of the "Alias" box sets, as soon as she had finished doing some work.

Oh.

OK.

I wait. 7pm. 8pm. A double bill of "Two And A Half Men" starts. Me: Shall I leave this on? Her (from the back room): Yes. I am listening to it.

OK.

9pm. "Scrubs" starts. (Dr. Cox is my hero.) Me: Shall I leave this on? Her (from the back room, with the keys of her laptop a clicking away): What do you want? Yes, I'm listening to it. I'm busy. Go away!

Okey dokey.

I laugh all of the way through "Scrubs" and at 10pm I get up, turn off the TV, walk to the door, fart loudly, say, 'It's nice doing things together, isn't it?' and take my leave.

Hopeless. Unacceptable. Total waste of time. I don't even think that she knows what she is doing to us.

Rant over.

Where was I?

London. Saturday. The Magical Mystery Tour. Nothing to do with the Beatles classic. The Magical Mystery Tour is the phrase I like to use for the fiasco that was getting to the O2 Arena.

Late on Thursday evening, the night before we set off for London, we had an email from Ticketmaster explaining that the Jubilee underground line would be out of action between Green Park and North Greenwich (where the O2 Arena can be found), due to maintenance work.

Bit of a shitter that. Some genius had decided that a single underground line would be enough to service the O2 Arena. Guess which one? You got it. Also, the hotel we had booked (the Washington Mayfair, which is a really nice, comfortable hotel with great staff and only a 10 minute walk from theatre land) was a short walk from Green Park tube station, and so really convenient for getting to the O2 Arena.

The email did offer alternatives. A replacement bus service would be put on, if we wanted to use that, or we could book a place on the Thames Clipper to arrive in style via water. (No thanks, to the latter. The last time we tried to use the Thames Clipper, the Stones last year, nobody could tell us where we had to be to actually board the fucker.)

Saturday morning we went to Green Park underground station, where we engaged a very nice underground worker in conversation who proceeded to tell us that he didn't know anything about a replacement bus service. OK... So what did he suggest? Would the other end of the Jubilee line be running: from Stratford to North Greenwich? We could get to that station, no problems. He didn't know. Suggestions? Get to the closest point (Canary Wharf) and talk to the staff at the station, who would be glad to show us a bus stop that would take us directly to the O2 Arena.

From memory then: We started in Leicester Square. Packed carriages the whole way. Piccadilly line to Holborn. Central line to Bank. DLR to Canary Wharf.

Canary Wharf was deserted. It was like something out of "I Am Legend", minus the zombies. We could see the O2 Arena in the distance across the water. We found a security guard. We point. Us: How do we get to there? Is there a bridge? Him: There is no bridge. Us: Can you direct us to a bus that will take us there? Him: There is no bus. (Thinks.) You could get the Jubilee line. That would take you straight there! Us: It's closed, you fucker! (OK. We didn't swear at him, but I think you get the drift at the tone the conversation was reaching by this point.) Him: Hmm. (Scratches his chin.) You would be best going to Greenwich and getting a bus from there.

Bored with this story, now. I will summarise the last bit.

We went to Greenwich on the DLR. At Greenwich the Staff were as few on the ground as virgins in a brothel. We tried to engage a punter in conversation and they ran away shrieking 'I don't know anything! I don't know anything!' We got talking to a likely set of Neil Diamond fans (middle aged couple, mid fifties) who turned out to be the same pickle as ourselves. We played the get out of jail card: We hailed a taxi. 15 minutes later we pulled up at the O2 Arena. It cost 12 quid between the four of us.

Then we found out that the Jubilee line from Statford to North Greenwich had been operational after all. We could have got the tube from Holborn to Statford and down to North Greenwich, all along.

Utter shit. What kind of organisation is that? Staff who know nothing. No clear signs anywhere. Rubbish. I blame Gordon Brown Ken Livingstone Sooty Boris Johnson.

It's a good job that Neil Diamond was brilliant, wasn't it?

I am going to write up the reviews now and post them tomorrow.