The roof bar of Century
In a couple of hours time, I am departing the big smoke of London town and heading to deepest darkest Dorset. It's time for me and my brother to return to our roots. The reason for this is because his wedding is in... and I don't know if even I am ready to type this out yet... two weeks time. It's coming up very quickly at this point. I am Best Man, which I am looking forward to, but with a pinch of trepidation. The speech I will be delivering is something I am very pleased with. I wrote it on holiday, and since I have been back have hung fire on doing any more because I thought it might be quite good fun to see what interesting stories and tall tales come out of this weekend from his mates.
I will have the trusty SM with me as my Debbie McGee (he's going to love that comparison) as I will be cooking for twelve on Friday and thirteen on Saturday. Phew-ee. I have my menus all sorted and will be travelling down with my copy of Angela Hartnett and Larousse Gastronomique. As well as a couple of Le Creuset casserole dishes. Pots aux feu and roast dinners are going to be big this weekend. Heaven knows what sort of quality of meat (Tesco? Lidl?) one would discover down there without knowing the right place to go, so I think my plan is to fix the whole thing and pop into HG Walter, consistently voted the best small butcher in Britain, in Baron's Court before departure.
Of course, before departing on such a weekend of staggering butchness, I needed a little yin in my yang, a little vaseline in my sand, if you will. So on Wednesday I planned with GS a Soho bar crawl. By the time I got a late tube home, there was scarcely one gay bar where we hadn't sampled the gin and thus Thursday was somewhat catastrophic. However, the whole experience did contain a useful discovery. GS was a member of Century, a private member's club on Shaftesbury Avenue. This has a totally fabulous roof terrance giving one a 360 of Central London. Where we were sitting I could see a direct view throuth to the neon glowy ODEON sign (the West End, not main Leicester Square) and then Nelson illuminated in the background. It was almost poetic. So, we had dinner drunkenly discussed Kylie records. At one point, GS said: "do you think Sonia will ever mount a comeback?"
It was that kind of evening. The weekend is going to be very different. Wish me luck... I'm cooking for twelve tonight and thirteen tomorrow.
Sonia You'll never stop me from loving you
Good grief, that's dreadful. Anyone for some Frizz-ease? That dancer is hawt though, if sub-Bananarama.