Bouncers

I went to the North at the weekend (one of my favourite place after London, containing some favourite people) and while I was there I went to the theatre.

This was theatre northern style. It was in an old working men's club (of which I was oblivious to the existence of prior to the weekend) ni Horwich (small place between Bolton and Wigan) and was an AmDram performance. I went because the money raised helps two favourite people put on a performance of Footloose.

The play was Bouncers. One that I had never seen before, and though I had heard of it, I was little aware of the genius of said play.

Using just 4 actors, it is a series of sketches tracing a night out on the town, starting with the meeting at the hairdressers, the bus stop, the pub, and the club, the taxi home. And it is from the perspective of 4 bouncers, four girls and four boys.

In each of the characters it was possible to see elements of our various friends. Sexy Susan flirting her way through the club, plain Elaine complaining that she was sweating. The boys urinal talk, and attempts to pick up girls, and the sleazy DJ's smooth talking.

The social observations were both acute and hilarious, accurate, but without going too far and becoming farcical. And the northern accent adds a level of comedy in itself.

As it was an AmDram production it was only on for one night, (although after the success of Saturday I believe that it is being performed again on 20th February at Horwich RMI for any that are interested).

Masterchef

Those of you that know me will know that cooking has never been a strong point, or even much of an interest for me. In fact my culinary expertise stretches not much further than toast. But one of the perks at work is complimentary tickets, and for that reason myself and Wigan were venturing to that district line black-spot of Kensington Olympia, to attend Masterchef Live.

After fighting our way through the frenzied crowds of amateur cooks, we made it into the lofty space of Olympia.

Which is huge. And was totally jam-packed with stalls that were selling everything, from juice to sausages, from cheese graters to lager, from chocolate to curry. And you could try more or less all of it. We saw one of the finalists from this year's Masterchef demonstrating how to fillet a fish, and a range of TV chefs signing books and having photos.

We managed to try a seriously large amount of stuff - Kingfisher lager was a winner, as what the second of the toffee vodkas. St Germain elderflower liquer is a definite must have - it tastes like a garden in spring. Fat free and low calorie curry on the other hand tastes fat-free and low caloris - rubbish. Chocolate orange fudge is nice, as was lavender (surprisingly). The Wiganer nearly choked to death on a chilli jam, and out of the considerable range of chocolate brownies, the best was probably the gluten free one.

The only thing we actually bought was a wild boar sausage sandwich and a buffalo burger for lunch (mega-YUM) and a chocolate owl (for the boyfriend).

All in all, I would not have paid for this event (partly down to the fact that cooking will never be that high on my agenda) but it was definitely worth going as a freebie.

Letting the side down

Apologies. I have been beyond abysmal at keeping up this blogging malarky. In fact, I totally forgot that I had one. Until a wonderful friend mentioned that she was starting one, and suddenly, from the darkest, deepest depths of the memory, I remembered this one.

So. I've decided that actually keeping the blog going was fun. And I will now make a conscious effort to do it more. It also forces me to plan activities that I can catalogue on said blog.

As a brief update on the last 18mnths (gasp!) of my life I am:

1. No longer a student. Sigh.
2. Now in the world of work (getting paid - yay!)
3. Have graduated to more grown up work, and no longer at pub. Sigh.
4. Am still living in Brixton (although in times of snobbery I say Clapham - don't want to scare off potential guests)
5. Still have the boyfriend (touch wood)
6. But have lost the Wiganer to, well, Wigan. Sadly she returned to the northern roots and pie shops.
7. Shoes are still my biggest weakness.

I also live in a nicer, although hazard strewn flat (currently fighting the landlord in an effort to get the 14ft pit beneath the flat filled, and the door to said pit sealed off. Yes, there is a door in my flat to a giant hole. Great talking point for visitors).

Anyway. This is to be the concerted effort to be more conscientious on the old blog front.

Infernos

On friday I experienced the joys of Infernos. A black box situated on Clapham High Street, I had been warned of its horrors by all and sundry, and yet curiosity got the better of me and I had to find out for myself.

So my housmate and I (a broad northern lass, from town of pie-eaters, Wigan) decided that in the name of research we would go.

First pleasant surprise was that it was free for girls before 10 (we then realised this was solely an attempt to balance out the massive majority of male clientele, but we did save a tenner).

Next surprise. This nightclub is carpeted.

As my wiganer pointed out "a bit of vomit on tha' and tha'll stink". So true.

Surprise number three. There are fish tanks EVERYWHERE. With real fish!

This we felt merited a photo. And provided a uninterrupted hour of fun. there were big fish and little fish and black fish and blue fish, and my personal favourite, a fish with a moustache.

So anyway. we were in. And despite the seriously bad decor, the carpet and distinct lack of other females, it is not too bad.

We have a little dance to some seriously cheesy music. Then we have a bigger dance. Then the wiganer tells an irishman that his irish dancing is poor, and to learn from her. And before we know it we are having a lovely time.

I'd be missing out a lot of the evening if i didn't admit that there were a lot males that enjoyed following us. But while some of them were downright weird, the majority were actually normal.

we spoke to two army men who had just got back from managing troops in Helmand. I spoke to a whiskey salesman that specialised in whiskey from Islay. And another that worked for vintage publishing house.

All in all, our night in infernos was a good'un. yeah, the music was dominated by 80's and 90's cheese, with the odd bit of rnb thrown in, but it was not too hot, offered sufficient dancing space for the wiganer to throw out some shapes, and is right on our doorstep.

And at the end of all that, we came home having change from a tenner.