I love it when a plan comes together. Which, let’s face it, isn’t too often.

Had an exhibition to visit today at the Excel Centre down in darkest Docklands. We planned to drive. Its Sunday. And then I pondered, and I deliberated, and I did lots of other indecisive things and decided to take the tube instead. Drove down to St Johns Wood, Jubilee Line to Canning Town, Docklands Light Railway to somewhere else south of the river and you’re right there. 40 minutes, no stress, ho hassle, no wasted petrol, no exhaust emissions polluting our lovely clean city (??) and no 15 quid parking fee. Trains park free, it would seem.

But most amazing of all is that there was something really really strange and unusual at the DLR stations. Something odd and exotic that you don’t get on other tube lines. Nothing to do with being in South London either.

When you get off the train they have these weird things walking round in yellow jackets with Transport for London insignia offering help, assistance and advice to travellers. They’re called ‘people’ and they’re really nice and friendly and helpful and polite and charming. So you know they can’t really work for TFL or they’d be rude obnoxious scum. Like Bob Crow. They call them ‘travel ambassadors’ and they’re just like the ‘games makers’ we had at the olympics; lovely people being really nice and showing you where to go.

Nothing at all that you’d expect on a London Transport system. I might complain. We (apparently) want less people working at stations, not more. I can feel a strike coming on.

But no complaints about Dallas Buying Club, the oscar-tipped Matthew McConaughey movie. What an incredible film. Gripping, happy, sad, funny, tragic and uplifting. As only a film about people dying of aids can be. Though its really not about dying at all, its about staying alive in the face of adversity, about taking drugs when the government keep trying to stop you (good drugs, that is, although most pharmaceuticals were represented and abused during the movie), about breaking down stereotypes, about dumb-ass redneck Texan trailer trash (oops), about silly men with moustaches riding rodeo bulls and about extreme weight loss.

And its quite brilliant and well worth the time, effort and cost of the tickets, a bucket of popcorn, three extra large cokes, four hotdogs and a packet of Revels.

Happy sunday.
Yes, it was. I played ice-tennis this morning in honour of the Winter Olympics, which was as much fun as it was very slippery. But the sun shone so who cares?

A xxxx