I can be driving, driving home

It's our 9th anniversary today. 9 years! It's astonishing how these things can suddenly come upon you, and how old they can make you feel! My 20's now seem like a very long time ago and I feel like I've known Nathan my entire life.

We've just been to Jem and Ian's, who are the other two monks in Nathan's Brother Act cabaret. I was lucky enough to be the first person to see and hear a collation of their material, and it's really very impressive. Brilliant songs, immaculately performed. I felt immensely proud. Jem is also a pretty amazing cook, and made us a quiche, which is, after all, heaven for all gay vegetarians!

The rest of the day was spent sitting in various cafes. It's a bank holiday, so my favourite place was closed. I went instead up to the village, and worked in Costa. 

It's funny how little significance bank holidays can have to freelancers within creative industries. Theatre shows don't get cancelled on bank holidays - far from it - and people like me are just as likely to spend the day writing as any other day, unless, I suppose they have kids who are off school for the day, or a partner with a proper job!  When I worked in the corporate field, we were actually forced to take time off on bank holidays and not paid for the privilege, which used to annoy me rather spectacularly! Surely the point of a bank holiday is that you get paid to do nothing?

Incidentally, if any one reading this blog likes baking, do take an hour out of your life to see The Great British Bake Off, which started again two weeks ago. It's basically Delia Smith meets the X Factor, and is, without doubt, my favourite programme on telly at the moment. Bakers are such lovely people! Catch it on iplayer. You will not he disappointed.

350 years ago, Pepys was entertaining various family members including his Aunt Wight, who'd never seen his house before. He spent the afternoon with a bookseller - no doubt adding copious books to his ever-growing library - and the evening with his father, who was off to his country cottage in Huntingdonshire the following day. Conversation, as usual, was about the will. When would it ever not be, I wonder?