On Being a Marionnette, or: Timing is Everything

On Friday I went up to the cinema on the hill for an early evening showing of The Prestige. Giving the timing, I wasn't sure which bus to catch; it's a twenty minute journey (though see later) but you need to allow for the inner ring road at that time of night. I left the bus station about five, and got there about 5.25, not bad, and strolled from the new, less convenient, bus stop to the screening. I bought a ticket for the the film, and got one for Pan's Labyrinth at the same time.

When I got to the bus stop, I realised that I would have half an hour wait until the next service. So half hour wait, fifteen minute journey, ten minute walk. Or walk for about half an hour or so. I set off to walk, going foolishly but right down a fdootpath I've never used before, through a housing estate and up to the Westgate. Along the way I get a txt from N, telling me he's in the pub, and I request a cup of coffee. The walk turns out to be just shy of forty minutes, but is mostly downhill.

N and I were both going up to London on Saturday so we make the arrangements; I offer to ring him to make sure he's up. My suggestion is 8, but he wants longer, so I ring him when I get up at 7.15. He sounds pretty awake, and so I decide one phone call would be enough, as I'm not his nan. I get to the station in time to buy my ticket by 9 and wait for him to be late. Sure enough, he rings me at 9.15 - he fell asleep again. I can either catch the train without him, or go up to his place and catch the next one. Hey, it's only half an hour. Naturally we miss that next one as well, by 30 seconds. I'm now an hour behind schedule.

Of course, as we're changing trains at F so he can get his local service, all of this has added ninety minutes to the journey in return for making the time pass more quickly by having company for the journey. Hum ho.

Meanwhile three quarters of the Prefab Four are being crap or the trains are and it's not certain when they will be in town. They want to do the Tate Britain slides, so having done the Patrick Hughes exhibition at Flowers I head down south of the river. The queues for the slides at t'Tate are ridiculously long and I can see us getting very discontent. I text them warning them this, and so they decide to go to the British Museum instead. OK, back to the tube and back north to Russell Square.

The signage is lousy from the tube, and I very nearly head off in the wrong direction before I recall a journey from the BM to there with lamentables and abrinsky, reverse that in my head, and find the back entrance in Montague Street. I take charge for the first time that day, and award myself a cup of coffee before I txt the others of my arrival. At least I found a Yo Sushi in the Brunswick Centre, the latter having been transformed beyond recognition since June.

We eat sushi, and go to the Clarke do, and I make my way home on the last train from Charing Cross to West. I get in at 00.15, which gives me time for a couple at the Bell& before retiring, about 2am. I'd read most of The Observer on the train; it always feels like a bit of time travel to read a Sunday paper on a Saturday.

Tonight I should be out of the cinema at about 10.50 - I'm not sure when the next bus will be but I suspect another half hour wait. Or another walk.

Edit: Yes, film finishes 10.50, last bus was 10.45, previous film finished half an hour before so they could have started earlier. This time I ended up walking down Tyler Hill, having still not located the lit pathway which would take me more directly to town. I got to the Bell& for 11.15, and could have made the Doves for closing time.

I see Pan's Labyrinth has a having it both ways ending - although of in the real world the fascist win and Franco rules Spain for another threee decades. Does the fate of one girl make any difference?