Any dream will do...

Being an avid fan of ‘Any Dream Will Do’, I could barely contain my excitement when my Joseph tickets dropped through my letterbox. Daddy’s contacts certainly come in helpful in desperate times like these! It’s booked out until next March don’t you know…well the decent tickets are anyway.

Accompanied by ‘Green Fingers’ (if his friends ask 'I was dragged kicking and screaming'), we left the comfort of ‘the borough’ - Fulham, just to recap, on our latest cultural trip to the West End. It’s times like these when I remember why I rarely leave ‘the borough’. The stress of hordes of people – mostly tourists snapping their cameras and generally getting in the way, almost sent me over the edge. Until I found the safety of a cheap and cheerful Italian restaurant for a much needed sharpener.

Revived after a drink or two, we ventured into the theatre.

Despite the rustling of sweet wrappers and crisp packets (you’d have thought we were in the local cinema not a West End theatre) and the wolf whistling at Lee Mead in a loin cloth and not much else – which I must admit put a smile on my face, Joseph was brilliant and well worth the hype and effort to get the gold dust tickets.

…until the beginning of the second half when the stage broke. Our fellow theatre goers erupted into booing and moaning. I felt the same, but girls in pearls don’t heckle or jeer! Luckily for us (and the cast who I think would've been lynched by a disgruntled audience at the stage doors, particularly the chap in front of me who’s blood pressure seemed to have risen dangerously by the puce colour his face had gone…), the show did go on, albeit in concert style at the front of the stage.

And there finished our West End outing - a black taxi was quickly hailed - public transport twice in one day was far too much to deal with! I’d highly recommend Joseph – if only to oogle at Lee Mead’s freshly waxed and delightfully toned chest!!