Went out for cocktails with a friend last week. To say we thoroughly enjoyed the 2 for 1 offers in the local bars is putting it lightly.
We were sitting in the last bar when husbands of two close friends came in. Naturally they came across, offered us another drink, went over to the bar, came back with our drinks then sat down and joined us for the last half hour of the night. Keep on reading!
I often go to the supermarket looking like I’ve been sleeping under a railway bridge for a week: hair scraped up, no make-up, tracksuit bottoms, scruffy trainers, pyjama top (I kid you not) and shapeless cardigan (buttoned up to hide the pyjama top!) Keep on reading!
Disclaimer: We didn’t go to see the film for the sake of the film – we KNOW it’s not a great piece of cinematic loveliness with a thought-provoking plot, deep and meaningful messages and Oscar worthy performances. We went for the whole experience: the food, the drinks, the laughs and a great girls’ night out. Nobody judge us… Keep on reading!
Last Saturday was our girls’ Christmas night out.
Spent morning laying out dress (long-sleeved to cover up flabby armpits), shoes (4″ red patent leather – I kid you not), underwear (including support tights and suck-it-all-in knickers), handbag (large enough to hold Tena lady, reading glasses and earplugs), make-up (thick enough to fill in the wrinkles) and jewellery. Keep on reading!
Went to local pub quiz with the girls – just to reinforce the venue, I did say PUB quiz.
Got there early to stock up on alcohol. Went to bar to order what would be first of several bottles of red wine.
Isn’t that what a pub’s supposed to serve? Wine?
They had two bottles – no, not two bottles behind the bar, and the rest in the cellar – two bottles in the entire pub.
Aghast looks were passed between us. To add insult to injury, one of the bottles we were being offered was half empty. So the reality of the situation was that they had one and a half bottles of red wine – on the entire premises.
I asked how long it had been opened, to which the answer came back, “No idea.” Helpful. “I’d like to taste it please,” I requested.
A glass was produced and a mouthful poured in. Said small amount was tipped into my mouth, registered on my taste buds then promptly spat back out again. Nice vinegar for your chips love, but under no circumstances could that noxious liquid you’re trying to fob us off with be described as red wine.
We ordered g&ts instead, forced down several packets of cheap crisps and came last in the quiz.
We’ve vowed never to set foot in the place again.
Went out for lunch with a friend. Usual area with normal height tables and chairs was full, so we were shown to low tables and armchairs area. Or as I like to call it, the ‘lean back, loll and intermittently launch yourself at a cup of coffee’ area. Not happy.
Don’t like eating with my knees up by my ears, whilst simultaneously balancing a plate of food on them. Don’t like having to cut up food whilst trying to avoid leaning too heavily on the plate, over-balancing it and cascading its contents everywhere. Don’t like trailing my boobs through the food whenever I lean forward to pick up my drink. Particularly don’t like my spare tyre and muffin top nestling on my thighs, fighting for supremacy and trying to convince me to buy clothes in a bigger size…
Asked waitress if we could move. She shook her head then tried to reassure us that the tables were new, not as low as the previous ones and perfectly fine to eat at. Then she walked away – smiling smugly. Perfectly fine for Yoda or a Smurf perhaps, but for human sized customers? Not so much.
We looked down at the table – it didn’t even reach our knees. Friend and I
sank into sat down on armchairs then quickly climbed back out again. In a rather exasperated manner we glanced at each other, harrumphed loudly then looked around to see if any ‘normal’ sized tables & chairs had become available. No.
We perched on the edge of our armchairs – like stealth coffee drinkers ready to launch at a second’s notice – and waited. The minute two people looked as if they were on the verge of departing (scraping back their chairs) we shot over. Asked them if they were going, grinned when they said they were, stepped politely aside to let them out (not too far in case anyone else had been casing their table) and plonked ourselves down. Success.
Waitress looked over and glared. She then attempted to take our order without actually speaking to us.
She was not happy. We, on the other hand, were ecstatic.
Who knew going out for lunch could be so fraught?
Met a friend last night for dinner at new gin bar & restaurant. Huge list of gins served in goldfish bowls on stems – lush. All come with various adornments floating in them: peel, flavoured beans and fruit. Loved the idea of the previous three but drew the line at flower petals – don’t really want shrubbery floating in my drink. Thanks.
Picked a table in the window – had decided this was the bar to be seen in. Tables were all high with tall stools. ‘How trendy and cutting edge’ I thought, until I tried to sit down – in my short tight dress. My unfortunate choice of outfit allowed nowhere near the amount of movement and flexibility required to haul myself up onto the stool. And if I’d thought I could manage it with my dignity intact, I was sadly mistaken. Friend found this extremely amusing. Wearing her much more suitable skinny jeans she’d mounted her stool with grace, elegance and panache. Had she been forewarned?!
At the end of the evening bitterly regretted choosing a table in the window. Yes, this was the bar to be seen in – sitting demurely sipping gin, nibbling on the stylish hors d’oeuvres and politely acknowledging my friend’s jokes with tinkly, sophisticated laughter.
However, this was not the bar to be seen in when trying to climb down from the stool, getting my heel caught on the crossbar, missing my footing and slinging gin everywhere!
Really? Oh yes…
Went on the train to meet friends for a shopping day.
Sat across from a rather gorgeous young student, reading a paper on organophosphorus reactions – according to my phone that wasn’t even a word. I looked old, menopausal and read Woman’s Own. Half way through the slew of stories about ridiculous celebrities, large bottoms and botox I found a crossword. Got out a pen to have a go.
Had to give up after completing only five clues.
Intellectual student had good grace to look away, as I tried to surreptitiously fold magazine up and slide it back into my bag – while trying to look as though I was bored with such a puerile crossword, couldn’t really be bothered wasting my time on it and absolutely had NOT been struggling to do it in the slightest…
On Saturday went to the theatre to see a musical with a friend. We do this regularly, and naturally make a night of it. We also usually end up dancing in the aisles. Even when it’s not necessarily called for…
The evening isn’t just about the show though:
- Pre-theatre meal plus bottle of wine
- Glass of wine in theatre bar
- Wine in a plastic cup taken into the auditorium
- Glass of wine in the interval
- Wine in a plastic cup taken into the auditorium (got my plastic cup of nuts mixed up with my plastic cup of wine. Tried to drink them. Nearly shoved them up my nose)
- Huge g&ts in gin bar afterwards
Rushed home from supermarket, as was having friend over for lunch.
Threw shopping into cupboards, tidied myself up (changed out of pyjama top), prepared lunch then sat and waited. And waited.
In end texted friend to ask where she was. She rang to say she’d sort of forgotten. I told her she could sort of get herself round here because I’d sort of laid the table, sort of got out my stylish plates and sort of dusted off the panini maker.
And I don’t dust off the panini maker for just anyone.
Disclaimer: The picture above bears no resemblance whatsoever to what I served up, but still…