I've had a Post-Squee Hangover for the last 24 hours and to say it's not fun would be the understatement of the century, though I had, at least, forgotten how marvellous Proper Squee really is. If parts of this entry seem a bit cynical, you can blame the slump which comes after an adrenaline rush, because I'm feeling sort of apathetic and despondent this morning. Hopefully this too shall pass, but right now I can't be arsed trying to be chipper, and anyway I need to save my energy for the (hopefully) more exciting part of this entry later on.
(Be warned in advance, it's going to be long.)
I am still putting off updating about last Friday (20th Feb) for reasons I don't want to go into, other than that I don't want to think about the issues which got dredged up and quite frankly don't feel that inclined to share them with people who more than likely don't care. I took a bunch of people off my Close / Personal filter recently (mostly deleted or defunct journals, if I'm honest) and that would be the filter I'd post it under, and then I'd get annoyed at not getting any comments. I am a self-fulfilling prophesy of the absolute worst kind and I shan't tempt fate. Anyway, that sort of thing is what my offline journal is for, where I don't expect any kind of response.
Anyway, here's a write-up of the past weekend; in case you didn't notice, I was in London.
One of Our Hotels is Missing
So, we overslept a bit on Friday and didn't actually get up until about 11.00am, which meant we were delayed in our planned proceedings by an hour or so. I didn't get chance to clean the bathroom like I intended, but at least everywhere else was tidy from the day before. Paul did the mass of washing up in the kitchen whilst I packed our case (managed not to forget anything, amazingly...) and figured out what I was going to wear on Saturday evening. In the process of which, my last remaining dress hanging contraption snapped, so I need to get another one. (One of those long things with holes in to save space in the wardrobe... I have too many things hanging off it, apparently.)
We managed to get on a train at 2.15 and arrived in London about two hours later, then set about finding a hotel I had previously only visited in the dark. We ignored our own instructions of "leave the station, cross the road and turn right" by swapping the last two directions and crossing the road at the wrong point, thus entirely missing the road we were trying to find. At one point we cornered a friendly businessman who got out his little map and attempted to help us, to no avail. After about an hour of wandering around getting more and more frustrated by the apparent disappearance of the road in question, we eventually found it, and checked in.
It was the same B&B I stayed in with Vicky in January before we went to Disney; it's cheap and cheerful and does the job, and isn't too far out from the West End. The bed wasn't that comfortable, but for two nights it doesn't matter, really.
Anyway, after unpacking and sorting things out, we headed out to find some dinner, and managed to stumble across the same restaurant as last time we were there, in October. It's just called "Bistro" and there are two in Soho and one at Covent Garden (we found the other two by accident over the course of the weekend), and they do two courses for £9.90. We just about managed to get a table but had to vacate it quickly for a booking.
After that we had a bit of a wander and some expensive drinks in some crowded pubs, before heading back to the hotel and buying some wine. And a corkscrew, which was extortionate. Drank wine whilst watching Jonathan Ross and that was about it.
Believe It Or Not!
The first thing we did on Saturday was scout out where the theatre was for the evening, so we could then arrange where to meet Eni beforehand. After that we walked leisurely down to Covent Garden for a bit, and after seeking out some coffee (I slept very badly on Friday night as the bed wasn't that comfortable) we caught the first street performer of the day, someone who named himself "Spiky Will". There are some action shots (which I might animate) of him juggling swords over an audience member and then lying on a bed of nails, with someone standing on top of another bed of nails on top of him - for 25 seconds! Pretty impressive.
That lasted half an hour and then we had a bit more of a wander, ending up in the Ripley's Believe It Or Not! exhibition. It was quite pricey to get in (£20 each, plus an extra fiver to do the mirror maze) so we stuck it on the credit card. The exhibition killed two hours and a fair few photographs, and was very interesting / bizarre / generally weird. I wish I'd taken some photographs in the mirror maze but we were too concerned with not walking into the walls - very disorientating indeed. I'd been to the Ripley's "Odditorium" in Blackpool with Vicky some fourish years ago, but the one in London is much bigger.
All the photographs will be on Facebook at some point, obviously, and probably Flickr as well.
After that we had a drink in a pub, and went off to find food. Out of morbid curiosity we checked the (horrendous!) prices of a steakhouse before wandering off again, whereupon we were accosted by a man who directed us to a bistro about five minutes away. It was in the cellar of a building and had literally six tables, but did two courses for about £7.00 - very nice indeed. I ended up choosing the Caribbean chicken stew in the end, which had about six layers of flavours and was delicious - we were lured to said bistro by the man on the street advertising "the best steak you will ever eat", but the two courses were the cheaper option.
After that we headed back to the hotel and pottered about for a bit, before getting ready to meet Eni at Piccadilly station at 6.00pm.
Both parties were 10 minutes early and presumably on the same train, as we met Eni almost instantaneously. We decided to get some drinks in two pubs near the theatre, which killed the hour and a half allocated, and then wandered over to queue up to get in. I didn't learn my lesson from Sound of Music about not drinking before seeing a show, and despite going to the loo before it started I still needed to go again after the first Act, though this time was determined not to let it ruin my enjoyment - besides which, that Tango Scene pretty much destroys my capacity for any other coherent thought every single time...
And on that note, if you don't want to read my squeeful and probably not even remotely coherent ramblings on the performance of Sunset Boulevard, you should ignore the next entry entirely... :P
I'm posting this bit now because I have this horrible suspicion that the SB-related bit will kill LJ's character limit, so I shall put it in a post on its own...
So, watch this space.