Yes, no blog yesterday! This is because - well, read on.
Being a gentleman of advanced years I do not frequent the bars and clubs of that Modern Babylon, Manchester, and have not done so for many years. However, my employment in the centre of that den of decadence means becoming vicariously familiar with what can be called <ahem> The Scene from my colleagues at work.
Milena proposed and organised an event for the 19th, beginning immediately after work. The 19th being a Friday meant if I went then the weekly shop would have to happen on Thursday; furthermore since attending would regretfully mean drinking alcohol, I'd need to go on the bus. There would thus be no time to go home and change, or write a blog entry. After our chaotic dining experience at Tiger Tiger we hiked across the city centre to a club called "Noho" - me remarking along the way about bouncers. Apparently every club you come across has these folk guarding the entrance, news to me. Then we arrive in the Northern Quarter, which used to be seedy backstreets back when I cruised the city centre. Now - surprise! It's all pubs and clubs.
In daylight, before the crowds and drunks turn up
.
Noho before dark; day-glo cocktails not visible. I sat where this photo was taken from.
I am sad to say I did actually dance at Noho - but only because Milena physically pulled me onto the dancefloor, clasped my hands in hers and kept me stepping forth whilst a bloody long version of "Sex Machine" played. The most dancing I've done in years. Fingers crossed nobody took photos.
Then it was last bus-ride home, and inevitably the House Drunk turned up alongside me, arguing with a bouncer at the venue alongside the queue. "F***ing B******s!" he slurred at the bouncer. "Do you want to see them?' he slurred at me.
"No. Not at all. Not under any circumstances," I replied, whereupon he dubbed me "Professor". Three lads, one in fancy dress, crossed the street in front of us. "F***ing B******s!" slurred House Drunk at them. Then my bus turned up, which seemed to annoy House Drunk too because his comment was "F***in B******s!" The last I saw of him, he was back arguing with the bouncer and if I could lip-read he'd probably be saying "F***in B******s!". I think House Drunk has some unresolved anger-management problems.
Anyway, the last bus drops me off in Royton, an 18 minute walk home, by which time it was 12:30 Saturday morning and thus - No Blog!
Okay, back the usual unfocussed drivel.
Ice Cream
I got a couple of papaya's going cheap at Tesco's with the express intent of making ice-cream out of them, which is what I've done; a custard-based one this time. Quite a laborious process, labour-intensive and requiring a lot of kit I have to say, Wonder how one would factor that into pricing it?
The Hovel Needs Scouring
Conrad's Lair, looking a bit under-organised. I did try to push the concept of entropy as regards tidiness, in that there are far more disorganised orientations for a room than organised, but physics as excuse can only go so far.
Better get going. After room-tidy that zombie novel needs a bit of work.
Ta ta!
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