Yesterday evening didn't quite go as planned. There were supposed to be fabulous drinks. Then I was going to see a Chinese Walking Play (sold out), a Numbers Play (sold out), a foreign film (only on on Wednesdays at 4pm. Clearly peak time for the sullen). Finally I decided - I was finally going to go and see a night of Gay Comedy at Barcode.
Instead, and rather marvellously, I ended up seeing Erasure in a private box at the Albert Hall (thank you Mr Morris). And I'm pleased to say I was a good boy on the bike ride home through Hyde Park. Although maybe that's because they've fenced off all the naughty bits. Who can say?
2 comments:
I'm sorry. Are the shoulder-pads back in their box?
Back in their box, up in the special attic I keep for all things 80s.
You'd have loved Erasure. They were lovely, but their fans were astonishing.
There were some extraordinarily pretty gay ones (mostly outside smoking dismissively), some straight men (a bit librarian at the edges), and the ladies (overweight Buffy fans in their late 30s wearing leather dusters and lots of make up).
The drinks prices were absolutely astonishing as well.
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