Dark Messiahs and Ballet Dancers

The last eight days has seen us attending two very different events, both of which have been hugely enjoyable, and both of which, I haveto be honest, I thought would be merely OK.

The first of these was last Sunday at the Indigo club in the O2 arena. We were last there in March to see Gary Numan's run through of his seminal Replicas album, which I wrote about here, and which blew us both away, and we found ourselves back there to once again pay tribute to rock's dark messiah as he played his more current songs, drawn mainly from the Jagged Album.

Now as a lifelong fan I have to confess that I adore the early stuff. Replicas, Telekon, The Pleasure Principle, even Dance, I Assassin and Warriors get the thumbs up in my book, and while I think his output in the last ten years has been excellent, I'd forgotten the power that a Numan gig assaults his audience with, and so going in with average expectations I found myself falling once more in love with his recent offerings.

Then three days later we found ourselves in the company of a new friend and his partner as they took us out first to the theatre and then dinner in the swanky borough of Mayfair (that's Mayfair, London for those of you not residing on these fair shores).

The show in question was Billy Elliott, and again I have to be honest in saying that while I thought it would be entertaining to spend a night at the theatre, something we don't often do, the prospect of two and a half hours watching a teenage ballet dancer didn't fill me with excitement.

How wrong I was.

From the moment the curtain went up to the final bowsby the cast, I was completely captivated, as was Deborah, as the tale of a young man's coming of age set against bitter miner's strike of the 1980s made me laugh, smile and hold a tear or two back in a couple of devastatingly poignant moments.

As Victor Remington almost said, I was so impressed I went out and bought the special edition DVD, which we're hoping to watch sometime very soon to compare the film to the stage show.

Tomorrow night is another change of pace again as I take Kez (13 going on 20) to her first proper rock concert. We've done Pink, we've done Newton Faulkner, but tomorrow night we're off to see the mighty Metallica at the massive O2 arena itself for a 'secret' fan club gig.

I personally can't wait, not only to see the band again for the first time in fifteen years, but also to watch Kez as she comes face to face with the Metallica monster.

I'll let you know how it goes.

A Not So Futile Exercise

I finally relented and caved in and bought a Wii for our household.

Against my will, of course, because I didn't want one at all, oh no, not me. I had no desire to play my favourite shooting game House Of The Dead on the Wii. Nope, not me. Never had the slightest interest in checking out the latest Resident Evil spin-off, The Umbrella Chronicles. You guessed it, not me.

Well, maybe I did. Well, OK then, I was looking for an excuse.

However, though I know House of the Dead would rock, and anything with the Resident Evil name on it draws me ike a moth to a flame, but the one thing I never in a million years thought I would have anything but a fleeting interest with is Wii Fit.

Yep, that balance board thing that allegedly gets you fit while having tons of fun. Not for me, that, uh-uh, no way. Or so I thought.

Last night we bust the thing out of its box at around 8pm and only called it a day just before midnight because I had to be up at my usual ungodlyhour to go to work.

But what fun! I never though that standing on a small board pretending to hula hoop and looking like a kid dancing at the special needs disco could be so entertaining (and we have the video evidence to prove it, not that any of you are ever going to see it!).

I skiied (slalom and jumping), I headed footballs, I moved some balls around into holes like some bizarre hybrid of Marble Madness and Spindizzy, and I even put the controller in my pocket (and yes, I am pleased to see you but really, it is a controller) and jogged, and it somehow knew what I was doing as my little Wii Mii (the avatar that looks scarily like me) followed my every move on screen.

I fear that Wii Fit means that my good work in avoiding all unneccesary exercise has come to an end as I feel the nagging pull of the damn thing, calling me back to have just one more go and try and walk the virtual tightrope across an urban chasm into which I have so far fallen every time I've attempted it.

Kudos to Nintendo for subtly reintroducing me, and many others judging by the similarities between Wii Fits and rocking horse manure in the shops, to the joys of exercise.

Well, now I'm a step closer to fitness, I feel the need to kill me some zombies. Pass the House of the Dead please.