10 March 2016, 7 pm
This is my first visit to The Savoy. It appears to be my taxi driver’s first visit too. His satnav, not having been instructed to steer clear of the West End on a Thursday night, delivers us straight into a traffic jam, through which – in a futile attempt at expectation management – it continues to adjust our ETA in line with the actual passage of time. Eventually we reach the point where, were it not for my unfeasible frock, it would be quicker for me to finish on foot. The driver, meanwhile, not having been programmed to take any notice of “Road ahead closed” signs, takes the opportunity to practise his seven-point turns and other people’s anger management skills. I am mightily glad I had the sip or two of gin earlier to strengthen my now threadbare nerves.
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