Ok I will admit it wasn't the evening I envisaged. I was absolutely convinced I had read that they were starting 'from eight'. It had said that on the font of all knowledge that is Facebook. Facebook is, after all, the most accurate source of information in the western hemisphere. It was only when I was doing my make up on the train on the way into London that I saw 'dominos on tonight at the roadhouse from 11'. Ah I thought. Oops. Tonight was probably not the best night to choose to come. But then I thought,'that can't be true, it's Tuesday. Surely no one goes out that late on a Tuesday. They must have meant 'till 11', that would be respectable, people can go out, have a drink and then be in bed ready for work tomorrow'. That was my plan and I thought it was a good one.
Anyone who follows me on twitter will know I have been talking about this gig for several days. I was looking forward to it. I had invited friends. They had actually agreed to come.
I met Hutch at the tube in Covent Garden. The tube had been a nightmare. Full of snogging teenagers from Europe. You all know I'm not a prude, far from it, but I do not want to be on public transport, stood next to some spotty French 18 year old with an erection while he exchanges saliva with his girlfriend and then looks longingly into her eyes. Either go somewhere private and have sweaty, awkward teenage sex or bloody behave yourselves!
So as I said, I got off the tube, met up with Hutch and we went to Marks and Spencers. There wasn't a single teenager in there, snogging or not.
I had been given a voucher from work and we had decided to put it towards a nice picnic. We bought bread, a range of salami, camembert cheese and those little cake things you get in tubs. We were slightly put out to find that they had run out of plastic knifes and just had several thousand spoons. It was very similar to one of the last times we took Camembert on a picnic and all we had to cut it with was my British Library card. Some people cut cocaine with credit cards. I cut Camembert with library cards.
We found a nice place in Covent Garden and sat and had a delightful picnic. We managed to cut the Camembert with the plastic spoon.
At about 8 we meandered our way to the Road House. I realised pretty much straight away that they wouldn't be on till 11. But it was nice having a catch up and a friend I hadn't seen in absolutely years came and so we spend some time having the 'so what have you been up to in the past 2 years' conversation. Hutch and her housemate had to make a move but Harri and I stayed discussing life when we were masters students together and spent our Saturday's working 16 hour shifts in a hotel's wedding department. It mainly involved us running about, polishing cutlery, eating, folding napkins, and then getting really drunk afterwards and walking home (via a 24 hour marks and spencers) it was one of the best jobs either of us has ever had.
Anyway both Harri and myself consider ourselves quite cool people. We go out, we drink, we dance, we have stayed up till 6 am HOWEVER it is a Tuesday and we both have to be at work at 9am. Towards half ten the conversation was being replaced by quite a lot of yawning. We had said hello to the Dominos, who had told up they wouldn't be on till half past 11. They didn't really understand why we couldn't stay out till three in the morning. Not a chance I thought, I could see that Harri was thinking the same. The bar was filling up and neither of us could work out what kind of people it was filling up with. They couldn't possibly be people who had to go to work in the morning but they didn't look like students. The dominos said they were filming a video, I was very pleased for them but it was not enough to keep us from our beds, that and I am the least photogenic person in the world, so I had no desire to accidentally be in a dominos video, no matter how briefly.
So we left. As i was gathering up my my things I was struck by an absolutely horrible smell, it was the Camembert in my bag and it had got quite strong.
It was only when I came back up to ground level that I realised that the first night bus back to where I live, which is so far on the outskirts of London that it isn't actually really London anymore, didn't depart for 45 minutes.
I was too early for the night bus.
Anyway I waited and it came. No one came to sit next to me because the smell of camembert had become rather overwhelming.
It was only when a man got on the bus whose smell was more overwhelming than my cheese that someone sat next to me. Unfortunately it was the man who smelt worst that the aforementioned dairy product.
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