Mimi's frozen fucking hand . . .

I'm going to the ENO on Friday to see La Bohème of all things. Now normally I could cope with that without breaking a sweat - La Boheme may be a bucket of sick (with added sugar) but it's harmless and it's still The Opera, so always a good night out, even if it's not the ROH, which, being a crashing snob I much prefer. Excepting Tristan & Isolde of course which is shit.

Only problem is that You Know Who is going to be there as well. First time I'll have seen her since the Skiing incident. It won't be that uncomfortable because, frankly, there's not really much opportunity for interaction at the opera - G&T before kickoff, glass of filthy muck and a gasper at half time, quick pint after the final whistle. But it's going to upset me all the same.

Goddammit!

Why do I get myself into these ridiculous messes?