Blow, winds, and crack my voice.

The train I mentioned yesterday was taking me to see what I suppose I have to call a 'school play'; although for me 'school play' suggests a cheerful but tuneless Pirates of Penzance with stripy T-shirts and cardboard swords - this was more along the lines of a small scale West End production, with unaccountably short actors. It was really very good indeed.

But although the play was King Lear (an ambitious choice for a school production, you might think? Well, perhaps you're right) my favourite line of dialogue came in the interval, where one cheery father hailed another cheery father across a crowded foyer with the words 'Peter! I'm very much enjoying your son's waist!'