That Was It, Folks

Yes, that was the last Bank Holiday weekend of the year. I hope you enjoyed it, becuase I certainly did. In fact, I had some A-grade largess in mine. Come here, and I'll tell you about it...

I must admit it started off shakily. On Friday I met up with Andi in Sloane Square, where we planned to drink, eat, argue about the clothing range in Hobbs¹ and go out and shake our thangs. It was not to be. He'd spent the day in the sun, drinking, drinking, drinking and watching cricket, and the poor luv looked like a ghost. After a very short time, we had to pack him off home to bed and send me back to the batcave.

An unpromising start? Surely. But it was to get better. Just 24 hours later, and look how much perkier Mr Bailey was:

That's a shot from where we started Saturday evening - the member's bar in the Tate Modern. That photo was taken just after I'd taught the new Polish barmaid the vital difference between "Aegean Tea" and a GnT.

We high-tailed east, pausing to take in Tower Bridge, and found not only a wine bar, and not only a wine bar with much meat in it, but one that also contained an ideal amount of Louise Mooney. It was time to do something drastic - it was time to go clubbing.

Clubbing? Me? With my reputation? Well...yes. We picked up a fresh-from-France Frances along the way¹ and headed straight to Soho, specifically to "2 Too Much". Did I balk at the cost of entry? No.
Did I get embarrassed when we checked in Fran's mighty, mighty rucksack at the cloakroom? No.
Did I shake my funky thang? As best I could, I did sir.

Never mind that I was the only straight man in the room, and never mind that someone called Rupert tried to chat me up with the line, "Wow - we're the only two straight men in the room. Let's talk."
Never mind any of that - it was a funky night and ended at a ridiculously late hour.

How late, you might ask? This late - Fran & I got up and felt a surge of the Puritanical. We needed to punish ourselves for such wicked, wicked indulgence. So we went out for some exercise; namely the Sunday Rollerstroll which turned out to be a good pair of hours in the sunshine of my fave city, taking in many a fine tourist sight.

Guilt fully paid up, there was only one thing to do: Throw a dinner party with these two:

Actually, that photo's archive footage. They look a little different these days, on account of their being weeks away from from becoming parents.

What can I say about the rare marvellousness of the company of the Dannans that I haven't already said? Only one thing - just before he left, Ed promised me that when his son is old enough, he'll let me come 'round and play with their Lego. How good a friend is that, eh?

Anyhoo, given a three-day weekend, what else could I have with Monday than Something Productive. Yep, you guessed it - more blog engine coding. That took up most of the afternoon, and in the evening Fran & I sat down and watched Gigantic: A Tale Of Two Johns - a groovy documentary about that most excellent of bands, They Might Be Giants. And it proved one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt - the weirder you are, the weirder the people that surround you...

...hello folks. ;)

¹ Oh, if you must know I was looking for a treat for Fran. What is it about women's clothing shops? You go in and buy something that would be waaay too small for you, no-one says a word; you buy something that could fit you and they look at you like you're some kind of weirdo...

² A Frances who has her own stories to tell about that night.