I hate space*

I'd always thought the BFI IMAX was a gigantic cyber-age Lego piece, carelessly left behind by a baby alien on a recent family holiday to Waterloo. Turns out that it's actually one of the best nights out in London.

On Monday at eighteen hundred hours, I boarded the iconic multicoloured cylinder for the first time to watch Gravity in 3D.

I arrive through the screening room's double doors, crane back my neck to take in the sheer enormity of London's biggest screen, and buckle down in my sturdy red armchair.

Suddenly, a spotlight is ignited; a man appears, dramatically introduces the film and vanishes as quickly as he materialised.

The next ninety one minutes are intense. I'm talking butterflies in the stomach, blinding headiness, deafening silence, crushing claustrophobia, forlorn infinity and baited breath.

Of course, a $100 million Hollywood production starring Sandra Bullock and George Clooney was never going to have much gravitas as far as the plot is concerned, but it's the spectacle we're here for.

Now I've experienced 3D like this, I wouldn't want it any other way.

* I don't really hate space but that was my favourite quote from the film!

I thought I saw you in the Rusty Hook...

#OOTD | Fluffy Sequin Knit Jumper, Topshop | Tartan Skirt, ASOS

I LIVE in this jumper right now! Not only does this fluffy little crop number conjure allusions to the 90's grunge scene, but the sequins add a little disco to the equation too. I sat in the classic 60's Aarnio ball chair to really confuse the timeline.

Psst! The mini is actually a pencil skirt which I like to hike up every now and then!

Ghost Stories

The Mother and I love a spooky night out.

So here we are; ghosts from the future, transported into Number 48 Doughty Street, circa 1939. 

This is Charles Dicken's very own home; the birthplace of his two daughters, housing the upstairs bedroom that witnessed his 17 year old sister's death, and enclosed by walls that bred the creation of Oliver Twist and Nicholas Nickleby.

I couldn't think of a better way to explore the Charles Dickens Museum than by candlelight on a chilly Autumn evening. The flickering shadows, the creaky wooden stairs and the scent of freshly cut oranges in the kitchen were subtle yet emotive enough to make us feel we really had traveled back in time. Occasionally, we stumbled across one of the Victorian maids, oblivious to our presence as she attended to the household duties or stowed away in the attic to swallow back tears with a shot of Bourbon.

The Mother and I were like giddy little ghost girls - we knew we shouldn't be sneaking around this stranger's house, but what the hell, it's not like we were gonna get caught!

Have you visited the Charles Dickens Museum? What did you think of the gift shop? I don't usually give souvenirs a second look but I couldn't pass up this Oliver Twist 'Please Sir, I want some more' bowl and cup set, or this little hardback collector's edition of Ghost Stories.

Punchdrunk

On Friday night, The Fool and I were initiated into the Punchdrunk cult.

As we crept through the trademark red doors of Paddington's old Royal Mail sorting office to see 'The Drowned Man: A Hollywood Fable' we discovered the haunting world of Temple Studios; a British outpost for Hollywood's Republic Pictures, established in 1942, before collapsing in a dusty cloud of secrecy during the 1960s.

This is immersive theatre on an EPIC four-floor scale. The cast are fantastic, but it is the detail of the set that leaves you with flashbacks long after this tale of betrayal, sex and murder has wrapped.

You're encouraged to 'go it alone' to construct a narrative that is purely driven by you. Of course, The Fool jumped at the chance to have a break from me and went chasing after the glamorous Hollywood beauties whilst I chose to get down and dirty with some cowboys!

Everybody has a completely unique adventure and this pretty much sums up mine:

Beautiful cowboys, crumpled love notes, bar brawling, lidless lipsticks, soft sand sliding, broken face molds, pitch black voids, ritual and obsession, rusting vintage cars, heart-racing scores, fear, examination, humanless corpses, woodchip, corporate corruption, unbalanced power, open doors, locked doors, drag, desperate auditions, dance, check floors, red velvet, motel rooms, radio transmissions.

I must admit, after The Fool and I tiredly but excitedly exchanged tales upon being reunited, I did get pangs of that childish jealousy which rears when you know you've missed out on something... I guess that's an inevitable side-effect of getting involved in a show with THIS much depth.

The tickets certainly didn't come cheap (£47.50-85 a pop!), but in all honesty I've worked on film sets with less detail than this, so I think the price tag is justified.

If you've been to see the show, or any other Punchdrunk production, I'd love to hear all about the flashbacks you're having too!