There’s an old (and sadly, accurate) joke about the Scottish football team always arriving home from the World Cup before their postcards.

Guess what arrived in the mail today? The Valentine’s Day present Luscious sent me from Brisbane 🙂

Mind you, it was damn well worth waiting for. I wish I’d been in the shop when she explained that she was buying a book called The Sociopath Next Door for her husband for Valentine’s……


Walking With Dinosaurs: The Live Experience was un-be-lievable. Beautifully realised, engaging, astonishing in its scope and prentation, just a magical and awe-inspiring evening that made me want to weep in dino-geekboy rapture. I’d post some pictures, but right now picture-posting is still one of the things I need to reintroduce to my hard drive. Soon.

But what does it say about the human psyche, or at least, about the way we allow ourselves to be trained, that several thousand people issued a loving awwwwwwwwww at the sight of a ‘baby’ brachiosaur tall enough to look the upper rows of the stadium in the eye, and that so many of us cheered when the T-Rex made its appearance. Cheered. As in Here comes the Hero!

And yes, I was one of them.

The show was as close as I can ever expect to seeing a live dinosaur. And whilst I’m a grown-up, rational man on the outside, there’s a large part of me that wants to meet aliens, dinosaurs, and Gandalf in the flesh, just once, just to believe in real magic. For a couple of hours, at least, I could close down that rational part of my brain that saw the wires and animatronics and puppeteers no matter how well-hidden they were, and revel in the magic-wielding side of my imagination. What a rush.