Dear Kim... 

A Happy Valentines Day to you!

A big Cupid's arrow (and that is not a euphemism) goes out to every type of love today: love of friends; love of family; filial love; reverent love; unrequited love (that goes out to you, Gosling); messy/sticky romantic love; platonic love; love of beer; and love of crisps... 

Here's a song for you - a serenade by Antony, that sums up all the varieties of love above. The footage was shot by our Antony when he first arrived in New York as a teenager in the 90's.  In the last minute & a half, he's definitely channeling Fish & Kim; Slimelights, Circa 2002... The resemblance is uncanny... Heheh. Love you & miss you! x x 

  

Party Like it's your Birthday!


                              Hey Shorty; it's y' birthday,
                              We're gonna party like it's y' birthday,
                              Sip Bacardi cava like it's y' birthday...

Dear Kim...

Last Friday, I went to my favourite venue in the whole world - yep - you know it; to Bethnal Greens Working Men's Club, to celebrate my recent birthday...

Here it is in all it's splendour - how glamorous is this building! And are you missing it?
China Whites it aint, but Banksy has given it his brush-stroke of approval...

The night on offer was aptly named 'Party Like it's your Birthday'! 

Although the most important word in the title is 'Like' because it was actually my birthday the previous week. But I decided to hold out on the birthday boogie front - because the promise of a night of endless 90's tunes was deemed very much worth the wait... 
I did make the mistake of thinking the above night was on the Saturday - which I'd cordially asked all chums to save in their diaries.  Now, if we had turned up on the Saturday - bedecked in 90's hair scrunchies, Kicker boots and Swatch watches, we'd have found ourselves in the thick of Sink the Pink 's 'Celebrity' night...

     'Have a Britney meltadown, shag Harry Styles, release your inner Kardashian...' 

Hmmm... Now I truly love those Pinkers; having thoroughly enjoyed their offerings last summer at their annual 'Tranny Miss World' (The gorgeous Leona Lewisham strutted off with the title that year - most deservedly...)

In-fact, I've often thought it would be fabulous to be all Madonna-esque; to be surrounded by a troupe of drag queens/gay backing dancers. Who gave me endless manicures, and told me what a hot & fabulous specimen of a woman I jolly well am...

Oooh-err, are you impressed by my 19th century style superimposition?  It's rather akin to those Victorian fairy hoax photographs...

'Yes, M'lord; it truly is me, M'lord; surrounded by a troupe of fab-u-lous fairies. Their names are Luis, Oliver, Salim, Jose, Kevin, Gabriel and Carlton...

But the sad reality is, unless you look like Madonna, Cher, Beyonce or Lady GaGa; drag queens will not give you the time of day. And if I had've found myself amongst them that particular night - the feeling would've been mutual - I would've been in a right strop. As I was all set to Boom-Boom, Shake-Shake the Room, 90's style...

But anyway, back to last Friday.  Because I made a boo-boo with the date, some chums could no longer make it.  So just cousin Vicki, Joanna, Dani and myself bravely made our way to meet our 90's selves of old; our teenage doppelgangers... 

Now I failed miserably - as per usual - to take any photos. Sorry! Although wasn't it your lovely self who once said to me that if you've failed to take photos, it's because you're too busy having a marvelous time..? Which is similar to what the character, Sean O'Connell says to Walter in the film, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty... 

"Sometimes I don't. (take the photo) If I like a moment... I don't like to have the distraction of the camera. I just want to stay in it."

(Walter) "Stay in it?"

(Sean) "Yeah. Right here. Right here"

So I shall relay the night to you in words...
To start with, there was a free party buffet - everything to be expected from a 90's inspired spread: pineapple & cheese on sticks, cheap sausage rolls, and cheesy wotsits!  There were party games to be played. Vicki & I participated in the space-hopper race... Which we lost I'm afraid.  Although Vicki then went on to win the hula-hoop contest - not from her efforts at the waist, but from the wrist; her wrist twirling was most impressive - done with such panache!  She was the proud winner of an inflatable microphone, which we eagerly passed round amongst ourselves - miming along with gusto to All Saints and Backstreet Boys ditties. Until a silly lad spoilt our fun by busting our prop with his teeth - he thought Vicki would deem his microphone biting rather sexy. Which she didn't. And I was duly irked, as I was looking forward to taking it home for future impromptu Beyonce sing-and-dance-alongs.  I mean, that scene when Miranda is caught by all other cast members singing along to the Spice Girls - I really don't understand what all the fuss was about. Why is that considered weird? That really isn't weird... It's not weird...

 Then there was the music... 90's bliss!  We 'Jumped around'... 'We jumped up - jumped up & got fell down'. We 'boom-boom shake-shake(d) the room'. And we most definitely 'got (had) that vibe':
                       Joanna's got it, (Mild disdain for the woman who is now wildly swinging the
                                                     space hopper around her head - an inch from Joanna's face)                         Lynsey's got it, (Bad dance moves & mild anxiety that should the space
                                                   hopper-swinging lady bash Jo in the face, she might have to
                                                  step in and break up the fight)
                     Dani's got it, (Dani's definitely got it, but is she getting it?? Can anyone 
                                              get BGWMs Club when absolutely sober...?)
                    Vicki's got it, (Ummm, Vicki's got the allure)

 The one low point of the night was my interpretation of Vanilla Ice's 'Ice-Ice-Baby' dance routine... oooch, probably not the prettiest sight...  But all-in-all, our wee group was wild with nostalgia.  And the lovely Sylvie was there, trying out his  her usual kung-fu moves on us all.  I'm convinced that he's she's teaching us ladies the art of female self-defence.  As she/he knows that outside the cosy cocoon of  BGWM's Club and the warmth of it's light-bulb trimmed, velveteen heart, it's a mad & dangerous world out there...
  The anthem of the night was without doubt, Rage Against the Machine's 'Killing in the Name'

Just picture us thirty-something old ladies head-banging and air guitar-ing along to this track - with plenty of sign-of-the-horn hand gestures and effing & blinding thrown in for good measure. We refrained from any attempts at stage-diving though...
And then we were brought back down to earth by 'Barbie Girl'  - the next song to be played, so it was anti-climax time - thus - time to leave.  Although only half an hour before closing time - which was unexpected - seeing as Dani was off the booze; having a detox. And Joanna was working a 7 day week, and had already pre-warned me that she would only be staying a couple of hours... Heheheh. I think it's safe to say, that Joanna is BGWM's Club newest enthusiast...
Joanna then piggy-backed Vicki to the car, as she couldn't fit her 6 inch stilettos back on her danced-off feet. And with Vicki squealing all the way to the car - and the security guard reprimanding her for the noise - with myself reassuring him that she was "so gonna get it" from me (demonstrating by hitting my left palm with my right fist). Joanna then kindly drove us back to mine... round the corner... Heheh.

And so that is the tale of my 37th birthday boogie.   The End. x x x