Bank Holiday

Where to begin really... This last weekend has been an orgy of boozing and I do not remember half of it.

Well, first things first. Tuesday I got a visitor from the north, let's call her S, who stayed for the weekend. It is important to me that my guests experience the British culture properly so I did my best already the first evening. Builders, Fish and chips, pints and Champions League football. S was not as thrilled as me to see Man U draw against Porto. Must be a cultural issue.

To be sure S got the concept of pubs and football I repeated the procedure the following evening at another pub. Terribly disappointing as Pool lost 1-3 to the blue sheit at home.

Thursday evening another cultural part of London was ticked off. We went to see Billy Elliot the musical. Never heard that many curses at such an event. Truly good show and a great evening in all.

So far I had been working during the days, leaving S to enjoy LDN on her own. Due to a, shall we say slight communication error, Friday and Saturday continued that way. Friday for me started off at scaringly amusing white trash Aussie bar 'the Slug' already at 14 with Frenty and the two worst burgers in LDN so far. Three hours later we were in good shape to meet up with visiting legend Johnny boy and his girlfriend A. at a restaurant. The rest of the evening has been reiterated to me but apparently we had great pizzas and a very good time at the restaurant before we moved on to 'The Elk' for the second weekend straight.

As I gracefully made my way home to the flat with a still undetermined way of transport, S was thrilled. I crashed in through the door, then watched an episode of 2 1/2 men before I fell of the chair and on to the floor. Charming.

As we had previously made reservations for brunch, I leaped out of bed at 10 to sing 'Fields of Anfield Road' in the shower. Brunch was, however, cancelled and the conversation halted a bit to say the least. So to plan B then; boozing.

Frenty and I walked for almost an hour, save a short Bloody Mary break, to find a pub that showed Pool-Blackburn. Very fortunately we found a killer place south of the river where we both had good food, pints and watched pool crush Blackburn 4-0. Then we met up with Johnny boy and A for a proper brunch.

Somewhere beween Builders and brunch place PJs I lost it again. Later stappled out from PJs having had a tough time eating a burger. Johnny boy and A went to see Billy Elliot that some local drunk had recommended them to see the night before. Frenty went on a date and I walked Mr Mirkko from work and his friend to a nearby bar.

Later we were joined by S who also fancied a drink. After a quick stop at a nice place we turned to the Slug since we all wore sneakers and, seriously, would not get accepted anywhere else. Again the music was classic backpacker hits and again we had a good time. Afterwards S and I went to an off licence store to get some Heineken and have an afterparty at my place. No 2 1/2 men episode this time and a better behaving host so all smiles at that party.

S left super early to catch her flight so I was left alone to shiver and shake my way through the early part of the day. Took a looong walk along the river to shape up. Well, actually it was not so long but with hardly no speed in the hills and a break to rest it took some time.

Almost fine I went to meet up with the usual suspects to say hi before they returned to Sweden. We thought the waitor was retarded until he reveiled that he had been out all night. Fair enough.

Then what should not happen, happened. Three bottles of wine went down at the Indian restaurant and it was not all that late. Yes, you guessed it. We went to the Slug. Again. Snakebites, dancing on tables and air guitars. Johnny boy looked a bit suspicious of our choice. Bless.

So far today the body is coping surprisingly well. I suspect that the effects of the weekend will sneek up on me tomorrow instead. Bastards.

That was it for this bank holiday. We live to booze another day.

Cheers,

P