Momentary culture vulture

Mmmm, how delicious is this little fella? The accompanying caption from The Guardian website reads: "Yongin, South Korea: A lion cub warms himself with an electric heater at the Everland zoo, as temperatures dropped to this year's lowest level." Oooh, I'd love to be snuggled up with him, warming myself on his sun lamp. As it is, I'm at work, looking forward to this evening and the start of another weekend.

Last night was a pretty darn lovely Thursday evening, though - I met my mother on the South Bank and we looked round the fantastic World Press Photo exhibition (catch it if you can, it's free in the Royal Festival Hall foyer for another few weeks). I loved the pictures of the splash of sea water that had been magnified fifteen times and revealed some extraordinary, Henson Workshop-esque microscopic sea creatures - mostly translucent and fish-shaped but with huge bulging eyes and unexpected tentacles. It was like Finding Nemo but... well, real. There were also some wonderful shots of people finishing the Copenhagen marathon, looking like they were moments from death. And both Mum and I loved the set of pictures showing Turkish girls who are off to school for the first time in their lives, having been forbidden education up to now. The exhibition is always such a treat - a massive cross section of fantastic shots covering international issues, sport, nature, portraits, entertainment - a real eye-opener.

Then we walked along to the National Theatre and, after months of saying we wanted to go, finally picked up our tickets for War Horse. Bloody hell, there's a production and a half. Based on a Michael Morpurgo novel, the play is ostensibly for children, but it is equally (if not more) popular with adults and has had sell-out runs since it opened last year. And it really is truly amazing. Even though I was excited, even though I had heard wonderful things, even though Mum said to me in the interval, "I don't know if I'm going to cry at the end," (which we'd heard was a tear-jerker) and I'd agreed - by the end, the entire audience seemed to be blubbing. I remember being quite panicked that I was actually going to be unable to prevent myself from sobbing loudly, from the belly, such was the force of emotion within me. It's a First World War story but the animal perspective adds resonance and well, a new angle on an old subject. I challenge anyone not to be moved. And - if I can't have that sausage dog puppy from a few posts ago, I'd be happy to be followed round by the War Horse foal for the rest of time. Its little ears! Like the photography exhibition, if you can see it, do.

Tonight I'm off for more entertainment - a comedian this time, and I'm very much looking forward to a few belly laughs. I'll report back soon. Oh - just quickly - I forgot to detail a gem from my date on Wednesday night. Towards 10pm, when we'd nearly finished our bottle of wine, my companion went unusually (blissfully) quiet for a few moments. He then leaned in, and in an abrupt newsreader fashion said,
"All right. Your bladder wins. Will you excuse me." He then stood up and went to visit the facilities. Strange man.