Curtain up is at half past seven, and Lea likes to be in her seat by ten past. She is small, 161 cm, petite in every proportion. Auburn, long and loosely waved, her hair catches the foyer lights; her hazel eyes brighten easily. Her look is soft and romantic, a wrap dress in a warm colour, small gold hoops, a cardigan for the walk home. She is the sort of person strangers smile at in a queue without quite knowing why.
Sweet and spontaneous, she is quick to laugh and quicker to suggest a detour. Charm is the word her friends use, and she deploys it without meaning to. English is her language, spoken softly. Interior design is her daytime passion; she notices light fittings, fabrics and the colour of every wall. Theatre is the evening one. On Saturdays she works at a ceramics studio and has shelves of slightly uneven bowls to show for it.
Her riverside evening is a play at the Bridge Theatre, the modern auditorium beside Tower Bridge on the south bank, with a pre-theatre bite nearby and good sightlines from nearly every seat. She reads the reviews but never lets them decide for her. At the interval she will talk about the set more than the plot. After the curtain call the bridge is lit, the river is dark, and the walk back towards London Bridge takes about ten minutes, or longer if she spots a window worth stopping at.
Lea travels from Belgravia and prefers midweek curtain times. For a London Bridge theatre night, send the show and the date to booking, and take the dinner date figure from rates.