The sound was unmistakenly Pet Shop Boys, the visuals less so. We were at the ballet once more, although there were no sugar plum fairies or leaping nutcrackers last Thursday night. At Sadler’s Wells for a limited 10-day run, The Most Incredible Thing is based on a three-page Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale of the same name, is scored by Pet Shop Boys and choreographed by Javier de Frutos. The fable is based around a contest to produce ‘the most incredible thing’, with half the kingdom and marriage to the princess to be won.

What made The Most Incredible Thing that little bit more incredible, though, was in part the music – which was at times very modern electronic, and at others, very orchestral – and the film projection interludes, which helped the story along. Graphically styled to be very communist and Eastern European in flavour, the clips punctuated parts of the story where needed and helped break the performance into three acts. The score itself, was, like the ballet, quite dark and sinister in places, and very similar in flavour to the Battleship Potemkin soundtrack the award-winning pop duo made a few years ago.

Like other live show and soundtrack performances we’ve been to, at times you were wondering if the music was in fact being played live – especially the chugging, dramatic and sweeping electronic pieces – but live it was, booming into the undoubtedly modern Sadler’s Wells auditorium. You wouldn’t necessarily have believed there was a cast of only 16 performers, either, as costume changes were very swiftly done, while the 26-piece orchestra played Tennant and Lowe’s score in the pit below. Last night there was even a 20-minute on-stage informal chat with Tennant, Lowe and de Frutos, which comical at times, explained how the three-year creative process had come to fruition.

With a sumptuous dinner at Brown’s Islington beforehand (fish, chips and all the dressings for Nik, and calves’ liver with Sage and Rosemary mash for me), all in all, our Valentine’s Day night out was everything we could have wished for. And today, while the soundtrack plays out of my iMac’s speakers, thoughts turn once again to the ballet. Undoubtedly the most contemporary and modern one we’ve yet been to, The Most Incredible Thing was arguably the best one yet.

I don’t know why, but we really weren’t expecting a 16th-century Grade 1 listed small mansion house just behind the A2 on the outskirts of the big smoke. (Yes, I know, it’s technically Kent, but even so…) But, Hall Place is pretty and has small formal gardens with beautifully laid-out flowers and topiary bushes sculpted into dogs, dragons, horses and unicorns, ideal for little ones to run in and out of and hide behind. All very tranquil, I’m sure the sunny, bright and almost warm weather helped us appreciate the countryside-like (and very green) surroundings.

Sat on the banks of the river Cray, Bexley, Hall Place was built in 1537 for wealthy merchant Sir John Champneys, Lord Mayor of the City of London from stone recycled from a former monastery, Lesnes Abbey, closeby. A manor house was recorded some 300 years earlier on the site. Now there is also 65 hectares of parkland (where we fed the ducks and geese their lunch) and a tea shop, which overlooks the river, as well as traditional glass houses, which house and sell a bewildering array of colourful plants.

It was something of a green-fingered afternoon. After Hall Place, we stopped off at Ruxley Manor Garden Centre, where we wandered along the aisles festooned with all manner of plant life, books, patio furniture and pet paraphernalia (how did we miss the chickens for sale, though?). One orchid, one succulent, two pots and a bit of minor celebrity-spotting later, we were back at Sal’s enjoying tea and handmade birthday cake. An enjoyable day all round, not in the least bit rushed busy, and it even showed that south east London has something to offer on a day that isn’t a work one.

I can’t remember our last day out in London, and now he’s working at home, I bet Nik can recall it even less. Last Friday marked our first outing in the city for a while, and our regular January appointment with Cirque du Soleil. This time around, the show was Totem, a new production. Billed as ‘a fascinating journey into the evolution of mankind’, it was, as is usually the case, a spectacle for the eyes. Centered around a turtle and reed-decorated stage, macro photography projections provided some of the visual feasts, but the acts were again the stars.

From Bars, Hoop Dancers, and Unicycles and Bowls, to Foot Jugglers, Fixed Trapeze Trio, and Roller Skaters, 2011’s touring show acts seemed even more daring and spectacular than previous occasions. We were once again at the Royal Albert Hall, which I still maintain is the best place to experience Cirque du Soleil; it works perfectly in the round, as a traditional circus does. Guests in an Adobe box, I suspect the excellent nibbles and champagne at the magnificent venue in South Kensington no doubt added an extra element of enjoyment to the show.

An attentive breakfast at the Royal Garden Hotel done and dusted, we popped into the Kensington branch of the US Whole Foods Market in the fabulously Art Deco Barker’s Building. Literally a mammoth indoor market of organic and natural, environmentally-friendly food and products, I wasn’t expecting much. The largest of the company’s five stores in London (there’s also one in Glasgow; the first store was opened in Austin, Texas in 1980), there’s a cheese room, handmade chocolate department, 75ft butcher’s counter, restaurant, as well as the more regular fresh fruit and vegetable sections, but on a much larger scale. Well worth a visit.

Our final stop before meeting Pippa for lunch at Covent Garden’s Masala Zone was the Natural History Museum. I can’t believe that in 37 years I’ve never been to the 130 year-old establishment, and there was no way we were going to see all of its 70 million items on display. So, we skirted around the parts that we most wanted to see; the dinosaur gallery, the Large Mammals Hall (featuring the skeleton and infamous life-size model of a blue whale), then stuffed animals in the Green Zone, and the Earth galleries in the Red Zone.

We also explored the Darwin Centre Cocoon, but left feeling rather underwhelmed – all the preserved specimens in jars are housed in the Darwin Centre itself proper, which we couldn’t find on Saturday morning. All in all, an amazing place, and even though filled with faux-posh London parents and kids, it was both an enjoyable and educational way to spend a Saturday morning, contrasting nicely with the very entertaining way we spent Friday night.

We didn’t know what to expect, but we did know it would be a nice night out, and so Saturday evening proved. The Royal Opera House in London was the host for the evening, while Don Quixote was the ballet performance that played out on the Covent Garden stage. Danced by the Bolshoi company, if Geoff hadn’t explained the – simple yet strangely complicated – love story of Kitri and Basil and Kitri’s other potential suitors, then I’m not sure Nik and I would have followed quite what was going on.

We would still have enjoyed the dancing, though. You don’t need a story to be in watch in amazement and wonder at the endless pirouettes, leaping and choreographed movements going on under the red velvet curtains. The costumes and dancing were spectacular, and the three acts and two intervals whizzed by. We were up in the Amphitheatre’s fourth-floor tiered seats mixing it with the arty, posh types and opera buffs, and arguably got a bigger sense of grandeur than those sitting on the floors below.

None of the 19th century spectacle of the Royal Opera House has been lost at all in the most recent renovations at the end of the 20th century, and it really is a place to visit should you get the opportunity. It certainly made up for the Paris ballet miss (we had aimed to go to a performance at the Palais Garnier earlier in the year but were unable to get tickets), and seems to be a never-ending maze of corridors, halls, and bars. The terrace balcony gives the best view of the Covent Garden Piazza, too.

I knew I should have learned how to…

Seen on the way into work this morning. More information here.

(Apologies for the low quality picture.)

It was a fun affair, with copious amounts of sparkly stuff to drink, lots of warm finger nibbles and dips, and as her living room filled up, lots of varied people and conversation. The journey to Island Gardens on the DLR was surprisingly easy, while a lack of engineering works on our line meant that we might not be quite so wary next time.

One of the many highlights of the afternoon was Poppi (above), the 10-month old Jack Russell, who can jump as high as a small child, and whose excitement knew no bounds. Another memorable moment came when the same young Nathan asked Steven if he had a girlfriend (clue: he doesn’t, and isn’t interested in females in the slightest). All in all, a fun way to spend an afternoon.

And quite different to the way we spent the latter half of yesterday. In the morning, we walked around a grassy field and took in the Battlesbridge VW Weekend Show at Battlesbridge Antiques Centre (full report at PoloDriver, picture above), while in the afternoon, we headed down to the shopping centre behemoth that is Lakeside, off the M25 at Thurrock.

The main reason for our impromptu visit was a mooch around IKEA, but on the way, we meandered around Decathlon, What! (exactly what we asked ourselves when we saw some the rubbish it sold) and Best Buy, which has only just opened at the Essex retail park. The US-based retailer isn’t as ground-breaking as you might have been led to believe from all the advertising, and we left the store disappointed. The only downside to both a social and busy weekend.

As cultural juxtapositions go, there can’t be many like this one. At opposite ends of the London cultural spectrum, we watched Cirque du Soleil at the Royal Albert Hall on Friday night, and visited the ABBA World exhibition at Earl’s Court on Saturday morning. Both full of brightly-coloured costumes, stage acts and singing, only one had acrobatics of the high-wire kind. The other boasted voice acrobatics that have become known the world over as the sound of the Swedish supergroup.

If you don’t know the ABBA story, you’re either very young or have had your head buried in the proverbial sand for the best part of the last four decades. There haven’t been many Eurovision winners that have gone on to mega-stardom and have a legacy both as rich and recognisable as Agnetha’s, Bjorn’s Benny’s and Anni-Frid’s. And it’s just as well it’s a legacy worth celebrating, as, unsurprisingly, that’s what ABBA World is all about. Premiering in the UK, the movable exhibition is, just like the band did, going on a global tour and will end up in Sweden as a more permanent reminder of the Swedish super group. But we got it first.

My fear was that it would be a tacky, glittery and money, money, money-making memorabilia fest, taking away the credit that the post-ABBA Gold and Mamma Mia! years have built up. Yes, there is a fair bit of, let’s call it fun, but the one thing the exhibition does do is remind you of how big the four Swedes were. Led down the stairs in what appears to be Earl’s Court’s basement, 25 themed ‘rooms’ let you enjoy the ABBA story, told by new video reminiscences (even by the ever-elusive Agnetha), endless numbers of gold discs and music industry awards, props, puppets and scene set-ups.

Interactive exhibits lets the visitor test their ABBA knowledge (I was quite good on the ‘Fan’ questions but rubbish on the ‘Fanatic’ ones), mix an ABBA track (compared the original, I was 86% correct and quite pleased), appear in an ABBA video and appear with 3D cartoon-like holograms of their idols. Unfortunate and incorrect Swedish to English translations on the exhibit information panels aside, ABBA World is largely well-done and a diverting and interesting three hours. And even I, an ABBA loyalist, learned new things about the other fab four.

Don’t believe all what you see, though; the helicopter in the ‘Arrival’ section (above) isn’t the one that actually appeared in the stunning 1976 Arrival album cover. But, disappointment aside, that didn’t stop me and several others sitting in it…

To Cirque de Soleil (and to Romani language), Varekai means ‘wherever’. To us, it usually means a brightly-coloured night of spectacle and wonder at the Royal Albert Hall. An ‘acrobatic tribute to the nomadic soul’, it was a Friday night out with Emma and Adobe, and Varekai was by far the best Cirque du Soleil show we’ve yet seen. With a plot based around the mythical story of Icarus who melts his wings after flying too close to the sun, it’s almost a literal translation of this circus troupe’s name.

If you’ve never popped your Cirque du Soleil cherry, the first time you see a show performed by the Canadian (and increasingly global) family of acrobats, artists and singers, you’ll be amazed at the costumes and be taken aback by the low and high-level acrobatic stunts. Varekai features quite an assortment; triple trapeze, Georgian dance, aerial straps, juggling and Russian swings were all on the menu tonight (as was the delicious nibbly food that we had in our box).

Breaking from the acts of daring-do, the clowns have nothing to do with the otherworldly and mystical story (few real-life things do, but it’s escapism for a couple of hours) but almost upstage the more dangerous acts. The magician and assistant duo perform hilarious conjuring tricks, while the bumbling assistant with her hooped dress and big knickers drew laughs aplenty when she kept falling and tripping over, thus exposing her big bloomers to everyone in the RAH’s round.

This year we had a room at the plush Royal Garden Hotel, just a stone’s throw away from the RAH, and it made all the difference. There was no last-minute rush for the Tube, and no crowded, smelly train full of drunken late-night revellers to carry us home to Chelmsford. We walked back along Kensington High Street with Tim and Kim (who also had a room), before saying our goodbyes and retiring for the night. All very civilised, nice, and relaxed.

The sleep was relaxed, too, the large, comfortable bed setting us up for an undisturbed night (the glasses of champagne must have helped, too), meaning that we arrived at breakfast refreshed, ready to look out at the uninterrupted view of London from the tenth-floor restaurant’s huge panoramic windows. It really was an almost stereotypical view; nearly all of the recognisable landmarks were present and correct, glinting in the late-morning sunrise behind Kensington Palace and Gardens. We didn’t hang about, though; we had a busy day ahead of us.

It’s grossed $US280m so far, has 87 dates, 24 songs, and 4 ‘acts’. Madonna’s Sticky & Sweet world tour has impressive stats, but none of those are impressive as the show itself, or the person at the centre of it all. She’s been around for 25 years, had multiple reinventions, caused raised eyebrow after raised eyebrow, but on Sunday night she had the audience in The O2 in the palm of her hand.

We were there courtesy of Adobe (thanks Emma and Ali), as the screen projections were made using After Effects, and as a spectacle by the so-called Queen of Pop, it promised much. And boy did it deliver.

A high-tech, high production value, highly polished show included old songs that were thrown in among new ones, but more than that, the way that Madonna threw herself around the stage defied belief. For a 50 year-old woman, she looked at least 15 years younger. The yoga, pilates, and Kabbalah worship clearly pays off.

There was no let up in the pace either. Whether poking fun at her previous incarnations, leaping on a vintage Rolls-Royce, standing on a grand piano, or walking on a travelator, she made it all look so easy. The projections were equally unrelenting, competing for your gaze with their bright colours and shapes.

Downsides? Too much playing of guitars provided a few too many sit-down moments for the audience, and too much crotch grabbing from a woman who is half a century old, and doesn’t need to either cause scandal any more or prove she is sexy.

Overall, it was a truly astounding two hours, with some clever bootleg tinkering of old and new songs, a tasteful Michael Jackson tribute, and truly legendary stagecraft, of which you’ll rarely see elsewhere; it was Madonna after all. Take a bow, your Madgesty…

Transport for London had in their foresight, decided to close the Jubilee Tube Line, on what was probably The O2’s busiest weekend of the year. That meant a taxi ride to the Greenwich Peninsula, and after standing in a 35-minute cab queue at St Pancras, we eventually persuaded a driver to ferry us across the city, even if he was very reluctant to do so.

One of the road tunnels at either Blackwall or Rotherhithe was closed, so traffic had been backing up all day, but by scooting around the southern part of the city and crossing Tower Bridge, we arrived within 30 minutes, much less stressed than we would have done had we have taken a very crowded and many-stops Tube ride.

It still meant that it took us an hour to get from the centre of London to the east, though, when we had sat in five-star, high-speed TGV comfort for only 2.5 hours to get from the southern France Avignon TGV station (above) to Paris, a journey of over 700 miles. The irritable cab queue (due to a lack of a steady flow of carriages), meant that we missed our behind the scenes tour, too. All in all then, very frustrating, but very London.