Girls' Night Out and Co-ed Days.

December 23, 2013
I had the perfect night---weekend really---the sort that starts with a perfectly pretty, civilised evening---dinner, cocktails, girl talk---and builds up into a steady tempo of a long but steady night that stretches into the day. Debauched benders, once a staple of my diet, are few and far between now that I'm old, tired, and in pursuit of more cerebral matters. That's not to say I don't like a party, I do, but I can't do it the way I used to. Nor do I want to. I've slowed down, mellowed, in my advancing age and I like it. 


Last Saturday night (and Sunday) was a gentle workout that saw me at Rosewood London, Delaunay's, Claridge's, Playboy Club, The Box, and The Sanctum from dusk till dawn.



My choker is from Forever 21. "Rock Forever 21 but just turned 30" mark my words that will be me in 3 years. I buy a lot of clothes and accessories from Forever 21, ever since I was 17...most of it I never keep beyond a year but at those throwaway prices I don't really care. It's not like I relegate them to the ever growing landfill of fast fashion, I donate and give them away. I may not turn my leftovers into compost but I find other ways to recycle.



Cleo, Jaime, and I started the night at Rosewood London where we sipped cocktails and I began to dip them into the slow descent of boredom by talking about the same subject all night. Oh champagne, that great and terrible catalyst. It makes for wistful hearts and loose lips. Always walk around mad repetition.






This monster of a Christmas tree came all the way from Belgium. Bigger is better, and at thirty feet this beast certainly raised the bar.

We moved on to Delaunay for dinner.






Steak tartare and a Golden Blow (a very saucily-named bellini)...a promising start to a night. 

We decamped to Claridge's for more cocktails. A wedding dinner was in progress, and the sight of the beautiful bride resplendent among her beaming party certainly added to the festive, magical ambience of the place. I didn't take my photos of the place because I didn't want to seem intrusive.


But this tree and its carousel of elaborately costumed soldiers deserved a picture! Or several.




Cleo and Jaime called it a night and left me to fly solo.


I went to Playboy club to meet up with some friends and had a great time despite Percy's protestations that the place was  devoid of action. I was very impressed with Som's knowledge of Malaysian history and politics, and his interest in politics in general. We shared hilarious revelations that I daren't publish---the best stories are the ones you have to take to the grave---and decided that changing song lyrics to 'Som' was the new thing to do. We're up all night to get Som! Som-where over the rainbow! Need Som-body to love me!

We went to The Box for a bit before deciding that the glory days of 2011 really were a distant memory.

So we decamped to The Sanctum, also the site of many debauched tales of yore, but like my newly 'boring' self was perfectly chilled out that night.



I spent most of the morning there charging my phone and falling asleep on Percy's shoulder.


And bonding with Mason over his fabulous taste and laughing a stitch over his witty one-liners. He started a conversation about religion with our long-suffering driver. 

Driver: "Are you religious?"
Mason: "Honey, I worship anything with two legs and a Coutts account."

I DIE.

The next day we did the English thing and had Sunday roast at the pub.



I didn't get the memo. Everybody got a roast, I ordered mac and cheese. Food envy ensued. I whined at Percy who fed me scraps like a dog. "You're like a little dog! You shouldn't have any, or you'll get a taste for meat and won't go back to eating kibbles." I will bite the hand that feeds me, watch yourself.


The chicken pate was lovely, I wish I had ordered two instead of having mac & cheese which I didn't touch after two bites. Mason is convinced I ordered it to spite Percy (who hates the smell of cheese). Please, I am not so petty. I ordered it to be special. Fail.


I made up for my fail with this wonderfully dense dark chocolate terrine.


And an espresso to keep me from falling asleep on a Sunday. Not when God is watching, the disgrace!



Our Christmas cracker experience may have been slightly dampened by the weakness of the jokes and lame puns inside. I may have to write a strongly worded letter: "To whom it may concern, you have ruined my Christmas."


The spoils of my Christmas cracker victory, this adorable blue plastic ring that wouldn't fit on my fat fingers.

Abrupt end of blog post because it's half 1 in the morning and I'm tired, I left right after lunch to work on something for a client. They asked for one concept, I gave them three. I may have lost my stamina for partying but my enthusiasm for work has never been greater.

x

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