After spending the early part of the afternoon in the company of birds, it was off across the Thames to pay a visit the the London Aquarium, where we stroke thornback, undulate and spotted rays before strolling along the South Bank to witness the human zoo surrounding David Blaine’s last day in captivity. It’s a strange evening – pickpockets are out in force, girls are shrieking, people are holding badly spelt signs aloft, and a small Chinese woman stops me to ask if the showman has actually been sleeping in the box. After I reply in the afirmative, she gives me a quizzical look and says, “Really? Where’s the fun in that?” After digesting probably the most astute comment I’ve heard about this entire circus, we stand in the cold for half an hour, but Blaine doesn’t pull any tricks. No rabbits from hats, nothing disappears, he doesn’t even saw anyone in half. What kind of magician is he? Rubbish, we think. Off home to watch his exit on TV and eat Chocolate mousse. Yummy.