Play: Potted Sherlock

I had it in mind to see Potted Sherlock, and found quite a few deals, when I shopped around, that bettered the official price. Slightly. Slightly undercutting all the other slightly advantageous deals was the one from LoveTheatre, so I took that one. So I saved, ooh, just over £3 that way. I was at the end of the row, near the back of the stalls - but never mind, the Vaudeville Theatre turns out to be one of the few that gives a photo of the view from every seat, so I was reassured that I'd probably be able to see the stage.

Having eaten everything in the fridge that could reasonably constitute dinner, I had the perfect excuse to eat out - and when I looked up the location of the theatre (I'm not sure whether I've been here before, but if so, it was a long time ago), I noticed it was near Covent Garden and all the excellent eateries there. Ooh goodee, I could go to Cote! That was a plan then.

Again, I was ready too early, and had to make myself wait, so as not to leave too early. At the same time, I had to leave myself time to eat. I figured I'd take the Piccadilly Line to Covent Garden for the restaurant, then walk to the theatre - five minutes, I looked it up on Google Maps - and after the show, take the District Line back from Embankment.

The platform indicators at both West Brompton and Earl's Court now seem to only recognise two destinations for eastbound trains coming from Wimbledon - Edgeware Road, or Earl's Court! So in effect, you're going all the way to Edgeware Road, or you're not. Of course, the train I was on was continuing past Earl's Court and into town.. but as I say, I was changing to the Piccadilly Line anyway.

I see the lights are still up in Covent Garden, despite all the cranes making an effort to take them down when I was there last. Not lit, though. I'd looked up my route to the restaurant, and it took me no time to get there. I knew the only thing that could scupper my plan would be a packed restaurant, but when I got there, it was practically empty! Lovely. I was quickly shown to a table near the bar.

I soon realised I'd better time this, out of curiosity. I hadn't sat down yet when I was asked when I wanted to drink - so I put in my wine order. I pretty much already knew what I wanted - their pre-theatre menu does me absolutely fine, and never changes. And there was a waiter with his eye on me the whole time.. whenever I looked relaxed, having been perusing the menu beforehand, he dashed over, notebook in hand. I arrived at 5.45. By 6, I'd eaten my starter - a peppery mushroom soup that warmed me after the slightly chilly walk there - and been served my steak, with garlic butter and frites. When I'd finished it, I asked for the dessert menu - just to check the exact name, I already knew what I wanted. I had my dessert - a very rich chocolate pot topped with crème fraiche - eaten, the bill paid and was buttoning my coat by 6.40.

Which is great if you're in a hurry. Unfortunately, the show didn't start until 7.30! I deliberately got lost on my walk to the theatre, thus adding a couple of minutes to my trek. Which wasn't terribly pleasant, as it was raining lightly. After mooching up and down the broad and, frankly, uninteresting expanse of the Strand for a couple of minutes, I said sod it. I'd already passed my theatre, where crowds were still pouring out of a production of Wind in the Willows, but with nothing else to do I returned and stood in the lobby for an age as they streamed past me.

I didn't even have to pick up my ticket - I'd selected Print at Home. Finally, I decided enough was enough, and made my way upstairs to the bar, where I got myself a large glass of wine and was unable to find a seat, but did bag myself the piano to lean against. Now, it's not so often these days that I have a large glass, and I must say I've become something of a lightweight. By the time I got to the end of it, I was beginning to have imaginary conversations with my mother's dog, Fluffy, which were, worryingly, accompanied by facial expressions. I figured I'd better make my way back downstairs soon. While I still could.

I made it down safely, and had no trouble finding my seat - what with the view on the website and all. Lovely plush red velvet seats, too. Only thing was, being on the end, I kept having to get up to let people past. Six times, I had to do that before the show even started.. then a very tall guy came and sat in front of me and I thought, "O no.." until, immediately afterwards, he turned to me and said I must tell him if I couldn't see, and that he'd try to lean to the side for my benefit. And he did, the whole first half! Didn't really need to though - he seemed to forget for the second half, and I had no line-of-sight problems.

Yes, even for a show only lasting 80 minutes, they had an interval. And in those 80 minutes, they attempted to summarise the whole 60 Sherlock Holmes stories. Mainly by means of someone coming in and stating a case or a mystery, and Holmes immediately telling them whodunit. It's a very, very silly show, and at the beginning I despaired of it - and it would have been so easy to leave, being on the end of the row. But when it crossed a line of silliness - specifically, when they attempted all the short stories in a rapid-fire section - I started to enjoy it. I hummed and hawed at the interval, and ultimately decided to stay.

I liked the painting with the swivelling eyes, and I liked the hat-swapping bit, where they changed characters along with hats. But ultimately this is a very silly show, and I found the slapstick much too drawn-out. I give it 6/10 for effort. Anyhoo, that was the last performance.

Tomorrow: I'm dragging myself across town for the RSC production of Henry IV Part I, in the Barbican.

Tuesday: the opera Orfeo, at the Roundhouse. With Helen.

Wednesday: a gig at the Lexington, near King's Cross. They're running a week-long event - The Line of Best Fit - to showcase up-and-coming acts. Particularly interested in Jagaara.

Thursday: The Magic Hour. A Victorian-style magic show, with spirit messages and everything. I like the look of the venue too - the Grand Royale, a glorious old Victorian hotel near Hyde Park.

After I get back from Ireland, on Monday week, I've booked to go to a play in the only theatre within walking distance of me - the Finborough. The play is called Pig Girl, and the theatre is so small that it's always advisable to book.