On Friday I snoozed my way through most of the work day, waking up at 16.59 and zooming out of the door at 17.00, straight into the pub, where I waved goodbye to a colleague who was leaving to go to another job by downing three pints in an ill-advisedly short space of time, before wobbling my merry way home to change and go out for the actual evening’s entertainment.
This week, it was the aftershow party for Masque of the Red Death at BAC, at which my friend Tim was DJing. Oh. My. Goodness. What a brilliant evening. There were masks. There were men in faun outfits. There was a lot of dancing. There was a tequila bar. There was Katie Melua playing live (I’m not a fan, but she’s a big name to be playing at BAC). I danced with many, many people and have a singularly bruised foot to show for it, but had an amazing evening. The show’s run has just been extended, having previously been completely sold out; if you can’t get to see the show, however, the aftershows on Fridays and Saturdays are definitely worth going to, I’d say.
Saturday was spent lazing around in bed for most of the day, then braving Oxford Street and Selfridges in the afternoon. I think we must still have been drunk. Still, a most successful shopping trip. Ridiculously overpriced and frivolous garments were bought and yea and verily the shoppers were pleased. Even if the boy’s bank manager wasn’t. He he he.
On Sunday I dragged myself out of bed at lunchtime in order to go to the Golden Age of Couture exhibition at the V&A. Quite frankly, I was disappointed. Not by the exhibition, which was fabulous, but by the way the V&A had packed so many people in. This particular exhibition is run on a timed ticket arrangement. Ours were for 2.00 and we were told that if we arrived after 2.15 we wouldn’t be allowed in. Fair enough. However, the V&A had sold such stupidly high numbers of tickets that one couldn’t get anywhere near most of the exhibits. Certainly not close enough to read any of the information about the various dresses, if you could even see the dress in the first place, past the throngs of people. Sort it out, V&A – I expect better of you. There are limits to the number of people you can sensibly fit into one exhibition, and you had certainly doubled, if not trebled that number.
To cheer ourselves up, therefore, my fashion-loving friend and I went for tea and cake. This did the job admirably.
When I then got home to find my chap cooking roast beef, with friends on their way round to discuss skiing holiday plans (now booked – woo!), the evening just kept on getting better. Wine was drunk, Guitar Hero was played and far too much food was eaten. Hurrah for weekends, say I.
Luck with the skiing thing! I’ve just come back from (white noise, rustle, rustle. I can’t tell you, it’s top secret and we don’t want the wrong people to find out where it is because it’s unspoilt) where the black runs were bloody marvelous – about an inch and a half of cooked ice on top of 1m of snow. Brilliant!
Wheeee! I haven’t been skiing in about five years, so I’m really looking forward to it. Did you go to Bulgaria/Slovakia, perchance? We decided to sod the search for virgin territory and are going to Sauze D’Oulx in Italy. Cheaper than Switzerland, more nightlife than the budget resorts. Rah!
Hang on. 31? You really need to stop pretending that you’re older than you actually are.
I’m so very envious of anyone who is going skiing. It is my absolutely most enjoyable holiday activity that I can mention with children in the room. Do you have room for a stowaway?
Also, when did you get your own chef? Were you keeping him a secret? Does he cook anything else?
I’ve been cultivating the chef for a few months now, Mr F. He also cooks a mean fry-up and makes the most divine bloody marys – a godsend on those mornings after the night before …
That sounds like a very couple of days. Weekends are a marvelous invention indeed!
Should I mention that I live three hundred yards from the XScape indoor ski slope in MK…and have never been…despite knowing several people who work on the slope and could therefore ski-board and other snowy good things for free? No? Apathy, thy name is Ian…
Really, Ian? It sounds like you need Challenging.
That sounds like the perfect encultural weekend, Katjamidear. Apart from the Guitar Hero bit maybe (has he wooed you into the ranks?). It’s weekends like that that make me realise how quiet York can be. Oh, it can be lively enough, but it requires a possibly inordinate amount of effort to get it there.
You know, things like stealing a police car, setting it on fire and driving it skilfully through M&S *without touching a single item* and then leaving it parked improbably in the middle of York Minster with all the indicators flashing. Stuff like that. (That was a bangin’ weekend, that was).
THere are times I would very much like to be you.
Mr B: I am disappointed. Disappointed, I tell you. *tuts and shakes head sadly*
Mikeachoo: The Guitar Hero obsession is actually Ciggie’s fault. He got me started on it and I then bought the latest game for my young man (I really need to think up a pithy blog name for him … ) for Christmas. He is now totally obsessed and far better at it than I am, which displeases me.
I can still kick his butt on Singstar, though.
Moobs: you’d look great as a redhead.