Head Space Daily Words...

The previous weekend I had seventy year old soul diva Marlena Shaw giving me the eye at Ronnie Scott's, with a seductive wink of 'come on big boy.' This weekend it was the turn of 'Salty', the comedy pirate at Legoland. He bounced off his spring board, vaulted through the air, landed on his crash mat and locked his steely gaze upon my discombobulated stare. He couldn't take his eyes off me. I had to turn away through embarrassment. I mean, I'm not that way inclined - I don't go for pirates!! We went to Legoland in Windsor at the weekend. The sun was shining which was nothing short of miraculous and made life so much easier and a lot more fun. In fact we've all come back a little pink in the face. Considering it was snowing in Soho on Thursday, I would never have thought of packing the sun cream. We spent Saturday night at a 'hotel' that can only be described as an out of town Legoland compound or institution. The vast, sprawling complex, packed in us Legolanders for an en masse breakfast fry up, to send us on our merry way and provided a place to rest our weary heads, with dreams of gigantic, brightly coloured, plastic bricks after the day had run it's course. Job done. You would expect the proud nation of Legoland to run on democratic principles but no, Thatcher's Britain rules. The elitist Q Bot ride reservation system enables anyone who parts with enough of their hard earned cash - ranging from £15 to £70 per person -  to jump the queue. The effect is that the 90% of punters, queuing in a very British manner, despise the gentrified 10% who run roughshod over the peasants, waving their little plastic Q Bot passes as they go. Surely the Legoland uprising is not far away. Anyway, class wars aside, we had a great time, the boys loved it and apparently I looked like a frightened rabbit on the log flume. Nice...