We headed for the Barbican Waterside bar to eat: it serves good food reasonably priced. But it shuts at 7.30pm, and Clive would not arrive until then, so we went up to the First Floor Bistro. Mec took my arm and helped me limp up the stairs. The food was very average and overpriced - £12 for burger and fries??? I paid £12 for a turkey dinner, and it was like eating a school dinner, with gravy that didn't move when you tipped up the plate...
Anyway, time came to go to the cinema, a walk for about half a mile, the lift to the 4th floor, more corridors, a flight of stairs and there we were..thank God..as I sank gratefully into my seat, bets were being taken further along the row about how long it would be before I was asleep..what can they mean???
Turn your mobile off, says Clive to me. I hunt in my bag...no phone. James rings it. The manager of the First Floor Bistro answers. It was found in the ladies loo. They all look at me. Well, doesn't everyone take their phone to the loo to check texts? The film is about to start, but my phone needs collecting. Clive moves his legs to allow me out of the row, and tells me to be quick. I get up and limp out of the cinema. Limp down the stairs, down corridors, into the lift, walk half a mile, collect my phone -thank you - and do it all again, trying to hurry and feeling my feet and knees become more painful by the minute. I won't even go into the game with the lifts..it would have been funny to watch me running from one button to another..and the lift that kept stopping didn't go to the fourth floor....I almost got hysterical...
I got back before the film started!! And I stayed awake all through except for a couple of mins in the first poker game..I closed my eyes then..but other than that was gripped the whole time! Loved it..lvoed him...excellent film.
It ended at gone 11pm, and then we all had to extract ourselves from the row, and gather all of James' and my Christmas shopping which was spread between all of us, under seats, between seats, etc.
I managed the walk to the Barbican underground, bringing up the rear, slowly, while Mec hovered about being caring..good job someone was... the next train to St Albans was delayed, until about 12.20am, and I pointed out that actually my car was at Highgate..and needed collecting..I wondered if a. Clive would offer to come with me or b. (please God) offer to go and get my car and let me stay on the train with Laa and Mec and get a lift home from the station... Clive took in the situation and said, 'Oh, I'll get the train with Laura and Mec and see you at home, no point in both of us going to Highgate'.
Sometimes I wonder if, in fact, we are a couple....
The train comes in. It doesn't stop at Kentish Town. The plan was to get a bus from there to James' flat, he would then drive me to my car, I would then drive home...simple... Never mind, says James, we can get off at West Hampstead and get a cab to your car. Yes. We bid farewell to Laa, Mec and Clive and get off, me limping as best I can along the platform. I am cold, tired and lame.
We stand on the road for fifteen minutes watching traffic before a cab comes along. I slide in and sit down and happily pay my third tenner of the night...after finding my lvoely, lovely car on hampstead lane, I drive Amy and James back to his flat. Oh, I forgot, Clive's parting comment to me on the train was, 'Go and have a coffee in James' flat before you drive home. You're tired and in no state to drive home like that.' You couldn't make it up!! I declined the coffee as I needed just to get home: I put on the radio loudly and headed for the M1. It was a quick journey home, and I pulled on the drive at a quarter to two. Yes. 1.45am. Some day out.
Next time James invited me out for the day, remind me to set the agenda....
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6 comments:
"Next time James invited me out for the day, remind me to set the agenda..."
Absolutely. Or maybe even invest in a pedometer and set a maximum number of steps for the day - after which he has to pay for taxis and/or give you a piggy back ;-)
Although, perhaps I might also suggest on such a future occasion that sensible rather than smart shoes might be a good idea?
Then again, surely it's possible to have a pair that ticks both boxes? Maybe you and I need to go shoe shopping Sally? I know a really good shop near you, no really, it's just on the next block...
With my boys at the stages they are, I find it impossible to imagine a situation in which they would be keener on shopping than me...but Liz's criteria re steps and who pays the taxi are clearly worth pursuing.
As for Clive...hmn...shall I tell you sometime about the way Andrew met me at the airport?
Deep sympathies! And hugs.x
Whenever "J" and I go away for a few days we seem to have an unwritten rule that we will go on an unplanned walk and that one of us will have entirely inappropriate shoes on.
Last time it was me. When we went to Barcelona we checked in to the hotel and then decided to pop out. Popping out turned into deciding to walk to the unfinished cathedral. I had my cowboy boots on which, although fine for riding horse, are not designed for rapid marching through spanish streets. I ended up having to take the boots off to actually go around the cathedral (rather disappointing actually) which I am not sure counts as sacriledge.
Too late, the damage was done. Severe blisters on the feet, compounded by them getting infected a few days later. I limped for weeks.
I'm exhausted just reading about your day, let alone walking it!
Can't think of a better reason to shoe shop though :)
Sally, love, you've disappeared again! I agree that a day like that takes some recovering from, but do hope you're still alive and well somewhere.
Miss you! x
Just realised, I did it to "one Pedestrian" and I did it to you as well. Barcelona anonymous was me. I seem to have the blogging about sorted but leaving identified comments alludes me.
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