Like a circus directed by Tim Burton, or possibly Terry Gilliam

Clair wants to know how the James Thierree show was. It was, as expected, marvellous. Acrobatics and mime and music, all together, sad and sinister and surreal and very funny... quite simply, if you ever get a chance to see the man (he's Charlie Chaplin's grandson by the way), do. And be prepared to walk out wondering if it's too late to run away and join the circus yourself.

In other news, today has seen acquisition of a long-desired bookcase with filing drawer (yes!), a weird contraption that will be very useful approximately once a year (or maybe just once, full stop) and the rest of the time will just get in the way, sundry small storage type devices, two desk chairs, and some interesting Swedish cake things. It has also raised one of Life's Great Unanswered Questions: why is it that after carefully testing every chair in the store, the one that is hands-down the best - and is therefore paid for and brought home - suddenly becomes an awful lot less comfortable than the chair chosen by one's partner?

Corollary to this question: does this syndrome apply only to stores with a fairly cruel refund policy?