Here we are in what Wilson insists on calling 'Theatreland.'
While it's not actually Drury Lane or The Strand — it's Dartford, opposite a closed-down Waitrose supermarket — to him and little Antony it might as well be The West End, or even Broadway, so magical and glittering does it seem!
The show doesn't start for several hours yet, but Wilson wanted to arrive early in order to get a good seat.
Our tickets are numbered and reserved, so I assume 'getting a good seat' is a euphemism for 'Going to the Bar…'
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