A FRIEND RECENTLY gave me tickets to the ballet because he couldn’t make it. In the course of our friendship this happens occasionally and, like a dirty mercenary, I seized the chance.
To say this friend is rich is an understatement. I can rarely afford ballet tickets, so when he said: “Wayne McGregor, Royal Opera House, best seats in the house,” I jumped at the amazing opportunity.
But who would I take with me? My boyfriend, perhaps? We’d hold hands and discuss which dancer we fancied in the interval. Inevitably this would lead to a big argument and us not speaking for the rest of the night. Only thing is: I haven’t got a boyfriend. So, I took my mum.