I had a lovely weekend, involving two lots of clubbing and a yummy lunch out on Sunday. There was no sex, or drugs, I just said that to get your attention, but I did get called a faggot in the street. More on that later though.
Posts Tagged ‘clubbing’
February 8, 2010 by superlativeWe thought we would give Don’t Stop Believin another try on Friday night, after last week’s enjoyable but rather under-populated launch night. Our friend Alice was quite keen to try it as the music they say they’ll play always sounds so good, so we thought it would be worth a go and hoped a few more people would be dancing this time. Unfortunately, there were actually even fewer people there this time than before, so it was a bit of a washout really.We still had a nice time, and we sat upstairs in the bar area to start with while we had a couple of drinks, but then as soon as you move downstairs to the club bit it just turns into a very chilly and very empty evening. The music was fine, quite good even, but when you’re the only three people dancing it just doesn’t feel all that much fun. So I think we lasted until about 1am this week, by which point we were fairly sure hoards of people weren’t going to arrive at any moment, so we called it a night. It’s a shame, as I said last week, because the club night is right up our street in terms of atmosphere and the playlist. I might not go again though, at least not until I see that it has got a bit busier.Then Saturday night was the FABULOUS Pop Kraft, which was much much busier, and was highly enjoyable. We had a few drinks at home, then waited for Alice to ditch her match.com date and come join us for our two-nights-in-a-row we’-re-still-young-aren’t-we trip to the Hanbury Ballroom. It was PACKED when we got there, which was a welcome contrast to the previous night. The music’s always really good there too, the Size Zero Albino and Boogaloo Stu both play really good stuff, and I think we’ve only ever had one night out at Pop Kraft that we haven’t really enjoyed.There was one slight wobble when the bar managed to enrage Chris so much I thought he was going to batter someone to death, by running out of change during the first hour. So after queuing up for 20 minutes to get served he was told he could only have drinks if he had the right money. “Do you take cards?”, he asked. “No,” said the unapologetic barman. There’s a card machine there behind the bar at the Hanbury of course, there always is, but for some idiotic reason it’s NEVER working. “So what do you want me to do?”, Chris enquired. “I don’t know,” said barman. What the fuck is that?? Do they not WANT to make any money? That was the fault of the Hanbury as a venue though, not the people who run Pop Kraft. If they had no change, they should either have given you the £12 round for £10, or found some way of giving you additional drinks until it made a round number. Tsk. So we only had one round of drinks there all night, which was fine for us because it made it fantastically cheap, but ridiculous for any club to operate like that. GET A FUCKING CARD MACHINE HANBURY BALLROOM (I’m assuming they’ll read this, everyone does don’t they?).Other than the No Drinks For You fiasco, we had a fab time. We acquired/stole some Glee facemasks of Sue Sylvester and Artie, which I’m sure will come in handy for… er… nothing, and we went fucking MENTAL when they played Don’t Stop Believing. As did the whole club actually, there was a bit of Glee fever going on in there that night. And we stayed until the end, which we don’t always do so I guess we must have been having a good time.The three of us wandered back home through Kemptown singing Don’t Stop Believing quietly (loudly) to ourselves, and it was at this point that a charming young man decided to say “Faggots” at us as he walked past with his friends. Due to a combination of booze and the fact we were at a good bit in the song (the bit that goes ‘Somewhere in the NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT’) I didn’t actually care that much at the time, but once I got home I was quite annoyed. It’s only happened to me a handful of times that I’ve been homophobically abused in the street (once on the Isle of Wight, and couple of times near the Level, which is apparently a hotspot for cockmunchers in white transits to drive past and shout “Poofs” at you), so I’ve been quite lucky really. I’ve never been attacked or anything, and I don’t actually care if someone calls me a faggot. I know what I am and I like what I am, so you’d have about as much chance of insulting me if you called me tall. It’s the fact that this person obviously thinks they’re better than you because they like to put their penis into vaginas, and because the only reason they’re saying it is to show off in front of their friends. No one ever shouts that sort of thing when they’re on their own, it’s like a stupid schoolboy thing they do to look cool.So that pissed me off a bit, because even in Brighton you apparently can’t escape from retarded idiocy. But it didn’t ruin my night, which was EXCELLENT.And then we had a lovely lunch in Gourmet Burger Kitchen on Sunday where I stuffed my fat face with a massive chicken, camembert and cranberry burger. It was gorgeous.All in all it was a lahvely weekend. We have such a nice life, I sometimes think, and I should be more grateful for it.
July 21, 2009 by superlativeI haven’t blogged much lately, because I don’t feel like I’ve really done a lot. We’ve viewed a couple of rental flats, and nearly took one last week until on second inspection we found it wasn’t quite as nice as we’d first thought (limited storage and suspicious damp marks on some of the walls), and that’s been about it. This weekend however, I’ve actually done lots and lots so I thought I would grace you with a blog post.I’ve only been up to Birmingham once before, and it didn’t really count as I just went to a friend’s house, stayed overnight, and then drove straight back again. But one of our friends was getting married this Sunday, so we went up on Saturday and made a proper trip of it this time. I have to confess that despite my customary prejudice regarding anything further north than Cambridge, it was really good! The city seemed really nice with lots of shops and restaurants clustered around the canals, and there were some nice buildings and squares in the centre of town.We thought we’d try Nightingales while we were up there, which seems to be Birmingham’s main (only?) gay club, and I was very impressed with it. There were lots of quite fit boys, and the music was great. It was boiling though and I don’t think my feet appreciated the four hours of dancing much. It had a nice outdoor terrace thing too, and for some reason a diner upstairs, which I think is a GREAT idea for a club.Saturday was a special night they were having to launch the new single by September. “Who?” I hear you cry. Yes I know, I thought so too, but I did actually recognise one of her previous songs, and she’s a sort of Cascada-y dance singer from Sweden. She was good anyway, even if she did come on an hour late and it was a bit obvious that quite a few people didn’t know who she was. I’ll try to put up a picture of her once I’ve got them off my camera.Then Sunday was the wedding, for which I was feeling rather tired from the night before. I can say it was officially a Good Wedding, as I’ve been to a couple of bad ones, a couple of mediocre ones, and this was a Good one. It was in a nice church in a little square in the centre of Birmingham, and they had a good choir and some really nice musical interludes. Then we all piled into taxis down to the Mailbox, and had a boat ride along the canal up to the reception. It unfortunately started to pour with rain at this point, so on arrival we all had to run 200 metres through driving rain and arrive at the venue thoroughly soaked. The bride was protected by four men holding a blanket over her head, and reportedly ran the journey while shouting “This isn’t glamorous! It was meant to be glamorous!”. The dress survived intact though and at least she didn’t fall in the canal or anything.The reception was good, with good food made largely by the groom and his family (he’s a chef, and spent his wedding day morning making canapés, bless), and then good music and lots of dancing on my already well-worn feet.The drive home yesterday felt soooooooo long, and I’m really exhausted today. I’ve been a bit virusy all weekend, and haven’t stopped for a proper rest since Thursday night I don’t think, so it’s all catching up with me now. I’ve got a stupid flat viewing tonight, and then finally I will hopefully be able to sleep and sleep and sleep.Hooray for Brum though, and for it not being as provincial as first feared.