You know me. I love a trip to the theatre.

So what reprehensible day was this that saw me celebrate the human error that resulted in my not attending a long-planned theatrical extravaganza tonight?

Well, I had not wished to see the play in the first place. It sounded dull and worse still, worthy.

I don't much like the writer. Though feel that I should for silly sentimental reasons. She brought me love - albeit briefly - back in the day.

And much as I love the booker (not-booker - more usually my role) of the tickets, I felt our chances of chatting were slim with the competing (the play's the thing) demands on our attention.

Furthermore, it was Final Spanish Class of 2011. A Christmas class, no less. And much as the day rarely lives up to expectation, there are few things I like as much as Talking about Christmas.

So all in all, when aforementioned not-booker said she hadn't booked, I'm ashamed to say I dashed off an email entitled "stupendous" to my compadres. And enjoyed Rioja and Manchego and olivas instead.

Feliz navidad, todos.