Tele On

The tele works, but has to be kept on stand-by, or switched off at the mains. The repair guy huffed and grunted his way around the Christmas tree, presents, wires and other sundry objects preventing him from perfect access to the box. In the end, he found he didn't have the right bit, or not enough bits, gave us a bag of bits he'd removed telling us not to lose it under any circumstances (which I fear we've done as I have not seen it in 24hrs) and is coming back next week to finish the job.

At least we are able to watch 'House' again. It's my favourite programme at the moment. Hugh Laurie behaves so badly in it, reminding me a little of the sarcasm and ridicule Baldrick suffered at the hands of Blackadder. It's a very clever series, uses big words (oooer) and, especially for an American series, is totally gripping. Actually, that's not really fair, is it? There are many good American series around at the moment, such as 'CSI', 'Numb3rs', 'Special Victims' Unit', 'Medium' and so on. Still, 'House' is the best, with Hugh Laurie's amazing American accent, and excellent straight acting. It's not a comedy, but he manages to make the odd brutally witty remark even so.

Talking of entertainment, this evening we tried to get to the opera to see the Mercredis d'Opera Junior. I was sure it was at 20H, today, the 20th. I had a desire to get back to being the little culture vulture that I had been before I encountered the world's least culturally interested man and entered a period of cultural life akin to a desert. My parents had taken me to various concerts, ballet and theatre shows when I was younger, and it seems natural to me to expose my little darlings to such events.

They were less enthusiastic. My eldest told me the only music he likes to listen to is rock and could he take his Gameboy? Answer: no. I had to drag them out, a bit on the late side, and make a mad dash into the centre of Montpellier. We parked and then literally ran to the Opera Berlioz.

It was looking remarkably empty and unwelcoming. How odd. Maybe the concert was in the Salle Berlioz of the concert hall on the Esplanade. Another mad dash, madder, in fact because we were really getting to the limit of the hour of 7, and arrived, puffed out, to find it shrouded in gloom with a definite air of shut-ness. Even odder.

There seemed nothing for it but to go home. Hanging around the Place de la Comedie with a sagging credit card and no cash was not inviting. However, the prospect of mulled wine and a good dose of 'House' on the tele at home was, so we made our more leisurely way back to the car, and arrived home. The whole shebang took us 40minutes.

Had we been members of 'Spooks' we could have called up HQ and put in a request to find out what had happened by whatever means they had at their disposal. As it was, I had to wait until we arrived home, then drum my fingers while the Firefox update did its thing, after which I could access the Opera site to find out where we had gone wrong.

The wretched concert had finished. It had started at 19H, not 20H. Oops. It had cost, prepaid, 21€ too. Plus 2€ parking. Oh bugger!

I'll have to get more organised if the boys are to experience a little culture other than admiring flashing glimpses of the city centre at night and standing before the closed doors of the Montpellier Opera House.

Ah me, I should have checked. Obviously 20/12 became 20H 20/12. Doh.