I'd booked three tickets for Mr John Hegley -- me, G and Eldest, whose Shuffle is autofilled with Saint & Blurry -- before finding out that (a) G was working late and (b) Eldest was on a school trip to London. Bother. Then G's meeting ended early-ish so off we two railed to Norwich, bikes in the cycly carriage. Into station at 7:55pm, off we pedalled, consulting the printed Google map to find St Benedict's St. That church? This church? Nope, church at the end. 8:02pm, JH halfway through opening number singing "Grandad's going underground tomorrow".

Always uplifting to be in the company of the nation's unsung prince of rhyming words. Eldest would have loved the many contributions from My Dog Is A Carrot, her copy of which was signed by the great man at half-time. Repeated mentions of the naughty brother-in-law. Some fine French insta-translation from one of the audience for Poem De Terre: "c'est le legume que je prefere".

Second half kicked off with a dark and low key version of Max, the dog with a problem -- "little Albert gets it first 'cos he's nearest to the ground" -- worked well. Fascinating tales from his charity Zanzibar trip to donate a pair of glasses "to the blurred world". And no real finale, but more a ramble about the opening of a London theatre. You had to be there.