My nephew Barry is home on holiday from London for a week. If his sister Emma has my dream job in TV3, then he is a close second as he works as stage engineer in the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden.I don't think Barry was ever at a play, never mind an opera or ballet, this time last year.
Well he may have been dragged to see me in panto in the GAA hall in Leixlip when he was a nipper, but that was about the height of his dramatic experience!
So it's so strange now to hear him drop words like "Puccini" and "The Russian Ballet" into the conversation. I asked him did he get to see any of the productions as his work is done during the day.
"Yeh. I went in to see an opera last week. What was it? Oh yeh. Madam Butterfly."
"Really! And what did you think of it?"
"It was just like a chick-flick. An hour in, I just wanted her to get on with it."
Heresy! Comparing one of the most famous operas to a Celia Ahern paperback!
But I can empathise with his other statement. I felt the very same about Jackson in Emmerdale!