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.