It’s 10 am Friday morning and there I am walking down unfamiliar stairs into a vaguely familiar kitchen to see the ever familiar and welcome sight of Happy Happy Joy Joy making coffee. “It’s a bit strong” mumbles HHJJ, the master of understatement. After two sips I go from sleepy eyed, uncommunicative, confused person, to wide awake, over talkative, confused person, and must agree with him on this point, although normally I like my coffee strong, this one really does go up to Eleven.
I am in temporary residence at HHJJ’s on account of the fact that on the previous day he undertook to introduce me to the wonders of html programming, mmnn nice, followed by the compulsory Curry at HHJJ’s local, top notch Curryhouse, mmnn tasty.
After another cup of HHJJ’s finest I drive back to London very very fast indeed and not blinking once all the way. I have urgent business back in the steamy Metropolis as tonight is the night of the long overdue, semi regular village Pub Crawl and I must get some supplies for the pre Crawl cocktail hour at my place.
Fresh Limes, Sugar, Ice, light brown not too fizzy booze (the Brewmen of Bremen’s finest) and a few snacks for those who foolishly set off on a Pub Crawl without eating first (this means you HHJJ!). The Limes, sugar and ice are for making Caipirihna’s, the Brazilian cocktail which I’m getting a dab hand at making now and this is what get’s thrust into everyone’s hands the moment they step over the threshold, whether they like it or not, which incidentally almost everyone does. Several of these and at least one bottle of Champers later we’re off, staggering up the hill into the village to punish our bodies further. HHJJ has done nothing but moan about not eating so we go to somewhere that serves good grub and sells good wine in an attempt to pacify him. Time is flying by as the pre Pub Crawl happy hour lasted for two and a half and as a result we only manage to get around to three drinking establishments before the dreaded boozers death knell is sounded. Fortunately I have the presence aforethought to end up in the right pub to ensure that we are not unceremoniously turfed out onto the pavement shortly after 11pm.
At this point the evening takes a curious turn as it is suggested by someone that lives there that we all go to Muswell Hill to a club. Now, the only club I know of in that place is called Enigma and I’m not keen on finding out at first hand what that particular joint is like inside, but no, apparently there’s a new kid in town but with a “West End atmosphere”. I’m not sure exactly what the management are driving at with that one, maybe they mean the empty VIP area, but by this stage anywhere I can get another drink and maybe make a fool of myself on the dance floor is fine by me.
Well you may well be wondering whether I did disgrace myself on the danceflooor and how the rest of the evening passed off, and so am I actually as the old memory isn’t what it used to be. Suffice it to say that I’m sure we all had a good time and would like to do it all again soon.
Love Milky x.