Weekend in London

It was a very busy weekend in London! But honestly I would have been disappointed if I hadn't packed it full of people to see, places to go and things to do. I arrived at London Paddington a little late at a quarter to five Friday evening. The friend I was staying with graduated from Cambridge in the first part of her seven years of studying architecture. She's working in London as part of the next section and doesn't finish until around seven in the evening. I had a few hours to kill and it turned out for the better as I met up with an old friend in Angel and we went to a pub called the Winchester which reminds me of 'Shaun of the Dead' although it was a lot classier and apparently the pub in the film is further north. After a couple of Chocolate Martinis and some necessary yet not desired pasta I headed over to meet Natasha and make the long trek to Voxhill, south of the river making it apparently an unknown and not so very appealing mystery to all North Londoners. Why did we go all the way to South London? Well, if I said Roller Disco would that answer the question? I think so. There was no way I was going to turn down the opportunity to go to a Roller Disco even if I was inevitably going to end up on my bottom. The original London Roller Disco is in Kings Cross, but it has been closed down, I think for renovations, so we had to leave early in order to get there at a reasonable time and make it worth our £12.50. It's open from 8pm to 2am and we arrived there at the back of 10pm. It is advisable to book online as the queue for unreserved tickets was tremendous. Four out of the five of us had booked, but with the power of blagging, an unreliable trick, we managed to get all of us in without waiting hours in line. The entry fee includes skate hire and although the drinks are extortionate I decided I would either have to get so obliterated I wouldn't feel a thing when I fell or be sensible and drink water, saving my arse and my bank balance. I went for the latter more sensible option, yet fell over anyway. Of course. Despite being the only one of the five who tumbled it was brilliant fun. There are two dance floors, one which plays 80's cheese and pop and the other R'n'B. We went in that room once, but it was full of people who could not only skate, they could dance and skate, and some even perform specific skate dancing tricks. Where such a talent is practiced and perfected apart from at such a venue I have no idea. Incredibly impressive on a Friday night at a Roller Disco, but otherwise does anybody care? I am just jealous I know. Obviously I would love to be able to skate and dance, perhaps just skate and not fall, but I console myself with the thought that I have much better things to do than practice my roller skating. Right.
After a long and exhausting night and very little sleep it was up again on Saturday for a wander around Hackney and Angel before packing up my suitcase again and setting off to Kentish Town for another night of fun with my cousin Ilana. I arrived we got dressed up, of course I was wearing my green ankle boots with the gold cat brooch, and headed off to an Ethiopian restaurant which, from looking at Time Out and trying to match their description with my memory, I believe is called Lalibela and is on Fortess Road. Ilana described the traditional Ineja bread as being similar to sour dough which I detest so we avoided sharing it and went for the rice much to the disappointment of the waitress. The menu had a huge choice, which is rare for a Vegetarian, dedicating an entire page to Vegetarian dishes. I was ecstatic and my thus high expectations were matched by the delicious food. After our reasonably priced meal we moved on to The Oxford on Kentish Town Road which is where Ilana works. I have eaten here once before, typical Gastro Pub food; sometimes average to disappointing, sometimes delicious. We shared an apple and pear crumble, which leaned on to not so brilliant side of food as I felt the crumble was too soft and sweet. My idea of a good crumble requires an almost crunchy topping and a sour twang from the fruit which is complimented by the sweet cream or ice-cream or in this case custard. Asides from this I was introduced to all of her coworkers resulting in slightly cheaper drinks, they don't give staff discounts but not adding on the £1 mixer charge does make a difference, and very service.
We headed out to the Underworld just after 11 and were faced with a ridiculous queue and no luck in skipping it despite our best blagging efforts. However it moved quickly and we immediately hit the indie orientated dance floor...after waiting in the cloakroom queue. After several hours of dancing and the occasional unfortunate run in with one inappropriate chat up line after another we left a little early to avoid the queue and picked up some much needed fatty chips and cheese from one of the many kebab shops. The night was not yet over as we returned to the inevitable lock in at The Oxford and joined the remaining staff members still clinging on to the beer taps as slowly another one trickles away to fall into their bed. Unfortunately I was exhausted and could not take advantage of the all night party opportunity. My previously inexhaustible conversation with the slightly too old yet ruggedly handsome French waiter had fizzled as I felt myself becoming grumpy and indifferent the more I craved sleep. Fortunately I was not the only one and when the clock hit 4am we said our goodbyes and it was not long before I got to bed. Up again the next morning though. Ilana and I made plans to meet my friend John, a lovable pretentious Camberwell art student. Ilana, despite me telling her my friends and I are not so organised, felt we should set an alarm just in case we were going far away and needed time to get there. Of course when I called John he was still fast asleep and had no idea where to go for lunch. An hour or so later I received a message suggesting Brick Lane, East London being, according to John, THE place for trendsters to hang out. It is true. Ilana and I were a little early and John was very late so we had an overpriced cup of fresh mint tea and felt very uncool amongst all the people who had clearly thought a lot about their outfits in order to lounge around drinking overpriced mint tea and show everyone else this cool new vintage jacket or that "vintage" trilby. Hardly anything is really Vintage anymore so adding irony with an oxymoron or speech marks best suits the description of Brick Lane. When John arrived he had not thought of anywhere to go so after much wandering around, pressed by hunger and the fact Ilana had to get to work, we chose a greasy spoon cafe and I ate some questionable scampi and chips which I will be forgetting the minute I finish typing this sentence.
This almost brings me to this morning. After Ilana went to work John and I went for what was originally going to be a cup of tea, but he suggested this very nice pub and I didn't want to take the one decision he had actually made and turn it down. I agreed to this, but he couldn't make it so simple, turning a five minute walk around the corner into a half hour walk around East London because we took the wrong turn. No complaints though, or not many, as the pub WAS lovely and despite the overly intimate couple sitting opposite us the decor was very pretty. I returned to the pub, again, to collect Ilana's keys and ended up staying for a bloody mary and a long vodka, sampling a flirtatious staff members sticky toffee pudding and wangling a half price main course of Gnocchi with butternut squash and a cheesy sauce that reminded me of feet. The main course was not so delicious although the sticky toffee pudding was amazing and Ilana's dinner, a fillet of plaice with caper suace and mash was also fantastic. It seems to always be the things I choose that don't work.
Now it is Monday and in two and a half hours I will be on the train to Glasgow Central. I cannot wait. I am also yet to shower or re pack or eat anything at all so on that note I must sign off.