So goodbye to all that.....

Chris and Bernie are embarking on a new adventure. Chris is now back in Melbourne, and Bernie has one last hurrah in Europe before she joins him. So last Friday Paul and I invited them to a farewell dinner at ours. But we had hatched a cunning plan.

Instead of dinner, we’d invited Lucy and Brock, Mark and Angel, Stuie, Clayton and Jari, Don and Derecks, and Andy around for surprise farewell party. Our cunning plan worked, Chris and Bernie were surprised, and we had some very pleasant drinks to say farewell. Geez, Chris and Bernie’s friends can drink some booze! I’m glad they’re not my friends…..

I spent most of the early part of the evening in the kitchen preparing food (matyrdom complex – who me?), so I was less tired and emotional than some by the end of the evening. Those of us who were so inclined went on to London’s premier polysexual club night, Fiction, where we danced (but not near that bloody Fire Exit sign) and behaved in a thoroughly hedonistic manner until the small hours.

It all seems very surreal – Chris came up for a curry at our local Indian on Monday night and I managed to catch his cold before he left (thanks Chris!). We said our goodbyes and that was it. So now he’s gone, 23 hours away on a plane. No more ‘Hello Chris, it’s Chris’, ‘Yes Chris, it’s Chris here Chris’. But we still have the lovely Bernadette, and she is coming to Sitges with us and bringing Lucy. Our very own Fag-hags! We can’t wait.

Saturday Night we had Mark’s birthday bbq, in deepest darkest South London. But we survived (note to self: drinking pints of G+T makes your head hurt). We caught up with some of Marks friends we hadn’t seen for a while, which was good. It was my first bbq at Mark’s parent’s, as I left London the first year I could have been invited, and then when we returned Mark was in Brussels, so he hasn’t had one in London for some time. It was a lot tamer than I thought it would be, but I suppose all his friends are middle-aged now, they don’t roll around on the grass snogging people anymore. Well, not at bbqs, anyway. Mark decided he wanted to go to The Two Brewers, so we went over, watch the obligatory drag show and had a bit of a dance.

Sunday I discovered why gin is called "a mother’s ruin". I put on a brave face though, and despite lots of tutting and asking how I was feeling today (I love it when people take the moral high ground), we managed to make it to London’s glitzy West End (right). Scoffed down some Dim Sum ( or Yum Cha – call it what you want – I don’t mind), then went to see the BP Portrait Award (or something like that) at the National Portrait Gallery. It was OK – I love the NPG, but I find the BP competition a bit crappy generally. There’s a lot of dross in there, and only a handful of the paintings I actually liked. So sue me.

Fridays are FICTION!!!

Tonight the pony, C + B, the lovely Stuie (sans new man), C + J and S are all heading up York way to Fiction. We're meeting at the Edge on Soho Square first (RIP Kirsty Maccoll). Should (well, will -who are we kidding?) be a late one. I'm oncall for the rest of the weekend, so aren't looking forward to that either.

I start my new 2.5 day role next week - from Slough to Winnersh - life just gets
glamorouser and glamorouser!

Islington - The New Shoreditch

Well Friday night wasn't as big as thought (or was I suppose). D and S pulled out of dinner, as D had to work - and he was afraid his willpower to resist clubbing would disappear after his first glass of wine. C + B pulled out too, as B was 'a bit fluey' (as we say in my family). So it was just M + O over for dinner, which was fun - it provided an opportunity to get to know them a bit better. We didn't go to a lot of trouble as we'd both had pretty hectic weeks at work - Pony assembled some antipasto and I made chicken lasagne (which later dried out - I was mortified).

But we had fun anyway, then went to Fiction, which was pretty good - met Matthew, M +O's friend there, and we ran into a clubbing acquaintanceJames ('You know, James with the large chest' - he is always referred to.). Anyway M + J 'became friends' in about 15 minutes, which was quite funny (in a sweet way), and we didn't see much more of them until they left the club.

We stayed at Fiction for while, then decided to leave to go to A:M (even though pony had made everyone swear on their lives they wouldn't let him go there). It wasn't too crowded, Stephen from Four Poofs and a Piano was there (we had been invited to his birthday drinks at the Groucho Club, but declined because we were entertaining - it was disappointing to have to turn down a chance to rub shoulders with the rich and famous. Apparently Lou Reed was there and some other A-lister, but I can't remember who Stephen said it was). Oh, and A:M have installed new lights, they are pretty amazing. Needless to say we got home quite late, and slept in Saturday.

Saturday was spent resting and enjoying a late breakfast. Giles ('You know, Giles with the large chest' (not to be confused with James)) rang to ask if we wanted to meet in Soho for a drink, but we politely declined his more than generous offer and instead opted for a night of Ice Dancing with the Stars (or something like that - I don't know what it's called - it's on ITV and I don't do ITV). But The Sound of Musicals was on BBC1 , so we watched that too (it was actually very good, even if I didn't know half the tunes - I haven't seen Billy Elliot, or The Lady in White or Phantom), then IDWTS, then the Ice Skating from Turin. Picking a pattern here? At least we refrained from marking the costumes.......

Stuie rang Sunday morning and so we met him and his new beau in Islington, at The Green, which we'd never been too before. It was a pretty good bar/cafe, very New Labour. We had a bite to eat (Steak Sandwich for me, Cheese Platter for Stuie, Burger for Pony), and a bottle of wine. Discussed our respective weeks/weekends with Stuie and beau, then decided to go for a drink at the Edward IV ('Reminds me of gay bars in Birmingham in 1992' the Pony said. Apparently it's just been repainted. Mauve and Royal Blue (or Purple). Whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant.) Very old Labour, it was full of people older than me, and smelt of air-freshener. Even the length of time it took us to drink the one drink we'd ordered there was too long to be there. We left the 8 plastic bowls of chips on the bar untouched.

The Pony decided we should move to Islington ( not because of the Edward IV, mind you.), so we spent 10 rainy minutes looking in estate agent's windows. Last month his favoured London locale was Shoreditch.

Went to another bar (I don't even remember the name of it - it was pretty forgettable) - which was empty - we had one drink there and returned to The Green. We had a couple of bottles of wine there - the DJ even spoke to the Pony (as he was clearly the only person to be seen enjoying a mid-70's disco track)
Got home to find out that Leo Sayer was #1 - it seems the Pony is not alone in his love of 70's disco.