Bad girls... Looking for some sad girls...

Saturday night was special. Let me clarify the date, as the last two Saturdays have been special. This was Satuday 17th July. My last night out with Lyn, Christina and Melissa. As happens occasionally, we get a bit special needs and have to go out like mongs. So we dressed up and had a picnic outside the National Film Theatre at the South Bank. Lyn starred as Audrey Hepburn from 'breakfast at Tiffany's' (and was the only one of us canny enough to choose a sensible outfit), Melissa was a belly dancer, Christina's friend Kasha had come dressed as herself but 10 minutes of discussion had her wearing a scarf for a top, ribbons in her hair and fake freckles to become a Spice Girl. Christina looked like a hooker from Cagney and Lacey what with the fishnets, honey blonde wig (she wore mine, I wore hers) and the hot-pink backless halter top. And I was her pimp in 70s suit with stars and stripes vest top, cork platform shoes and and Christina's platinum blonde mullet wig.

All was well 'til we arrived at the South Bank. A homeless person came up asking for donations and signatures for a petition to get better services in the area. Worthwhile I thought, so I made a donation and signed. Then she asked if we were actors. I said no. She wouldn't believe me. Bitch! I nearly snatched back the thrupence I'd given her. Some people have no manners. Big Issue? Piss off.

Well, such confusion continued through the night with people thinking a) we were actors, b) we were part of the gig or c) we were retarded. Please make up your own minds, remembering that option (a) is a serious insult.

 

Japanese prostitutes and an unusual queue for the loo...

Ok, it's all starting to get a bit bonkers. One night off after Lancaster, and it's London again with Paul, Kasumi and Juliette. Went to a great Japanese restaurant in Piccadilly (on the same street as the Arigato food shop- Brewer st? I always confuse them) called Ten Ten Tei. The service was great and the food was even better - recommend the set menus. After popping into a Japanese bookshop our final stop was a nearby pub, the name of which fails me. It was nice and quiet in this pub, and when we went upstairs there were only three other people. One fat munter of a man and two Japanese girls, who, having listened to what they were saying (it was hard not to overhear them), Kasumi stated were either 'really stupid or prostitutes'. I prefer the latter myself, as long as they didn't take on the munter as a client.

The next night was a Thursday, and gave me a brief glimpse of the gay scene I choose not to participate in. And it reminded me why I don't participate in it. Met with Mark and his lover Carlo (if I'd said 'partner' you'd have thought they were lezzers) in Friendly Society. Carlo seems to be a really nice guy, which is what Mark deserves (insert hearts and flowers and Hello Kitty symbols here). Mark's friend Ash joined us, and we went to Discoteque which was shocking. Not in an explicit, dynamic way. More because it was crap. And when I went to the loo and there was a long, and I mean really long queue for the cubicles in the men's, I thought I should be going home. Not the kind of place I want to spend the evening- crap music and a load of drugged up batties is not my cup of tea. So I left.  Remember kids. Just say no.

By Friday night I was flagging, but a marathon eating session with Neil, Rachael and Rachel seemed to assist. La Perla Mexican bar and restaurant is great. If you go, remember to ask for extra sour cream. They'll love you.

We went on to search for a bar, and having wandered round Covent Garden where we (or was it just me?) slagged off some scummers and headed back to the fancy bar next to the Mexican. Very nice it was too. Like one of the sets from a late night HollyOaks specials. Only without Lisa Hunter pleasuring rich holiday makers in an unfortunate manner.

Goodbye: part 1

Hmm... The national rounds of goodbyes are over. It's time for London business.

The last few weekends have been eventful, fun, and have involved lewdness, crudeness and with-alcohol-imbued-ness. First trip to Manchester involved Friday night (protested-against) table dancing at a leaving do in a Turkish restaurant with Sara for support. Wide ranging experiences on Saturday included Emma's baby shower, heckling waiters in Taurus on Canal Street (and harrassing the public outside the window) with Lyndsey and Susan, the former joining me to simulate sex on stage behind the singing performer (impressed she wasn't, fat she was) at H*llyw**d Showbar before dancing to 'All I Want For Christmas Is You' even though it was June. Only 6 months shopping left for the big day! Dinner on Sunday with Susan and Lyndsey happened after about 2 hours of hungover arguing, pecking and leg-dragging and prior to eating we switched venues (twice) and changed seats in our chosen venue (three times). Having eaten more in 2 hours than the third world eats in 2 months, I ventured back to London to prepare for my final full week at work (and a painfully drunken leaving do on the Thursday- ta to all).

The next Saturday saw a return to Manchester for Dipan and Chan's wedding in Tatton Park. Such a lovely day, and such a romantic setting. Apart from the an unfortunate incident involving a 2 year old child pulling away curtains to reveal leopard skins, moose heads and boar nailed to the wall (never appropriate at a Hindu ceremony), it all went marvellously. Highlights included (for me) the return of John Shubaker, the Leeds dancing club (Jenny and Lesley), Bhangra lady (never has bhangra dancing looked so stylish) and, oh yes, 2 of my favourite people getting wed.

Finished work on Tuesday (bye bye and ta again for cuff links and messages of love and adoration). JET induction on Wed and Thurs, where I met nice new people (hello Matt and Marisa amongst others) and surprisingly met old friends' sisters. Well, one anyway. Amitee! I shall see you in Himeji!

On Friday all paths led to Edinburgh. Well, that big train-track-like path from Kings Cross station did. Arrived in Edinburgh at 4:45. Arrived at the pub at 5. Hello Cathy, Lindsay, Mark, Terese, Jo, Ali, man in nice jumper and his boss with Taliban-esque beard stylings. Here's the science bit:

Wine+ Cathy + man in nice jumper= Shenanigans (me x man in nice jumper) / Joe's bed

Wine + shenanigans + 6 hours= me vomiting and not being able to eat or drink until 3pm

Thank God for Cathy's patented Buffy the Vampire Slayer/ Les Cadbury's Fingerez hangover cure. A marvel! We were all back in the Waverley by 9pm, where we were irritated by underage noisy Spaniards and where we went on to recount who we'd be if we could be anyone for a day. Terese (T-Liddy) and me (Prince) have an alliance should the occassion ever arise.

Lancaster on Sunday with Suzanne and Claire, and Blackpool pleasure beach on Monday. Despite working in Mental health for 5 years, Claire refused to go in Passaje del Terror. Which was actually a bit crap this time (and I was at the bloody front). Getting soaked on Valhalla, injured on Avalanche, and whiplashed (my new trademarked verb) on Steeplechase, we had a day of family type fun. Without kids (which is the only way family fun should be had). The evening featured more drink by the canal, and me slagging off nursing (now there's a change).

Back home now, and preparing for the London elimination rounds...

First try

This is the start of many new things for me.

I'll shortly (well, in three and a half weeks) be moving to Japan to teach English for (at least) a year.

This is going to be notes about how to embarrass yourself in a different nation and in a different language.

I am highly proficient at getting in wrong in England, so I shouldn't find it too hard to get it wrong overseas.

Fingers crossed.