Oh what a night

I have confession to make. Last Friday I went out with some colleagues and got a little bit tipsy. Well, a little bit more than tipsy perhaps. Let’s put it this way, I was glad that by the time the Sambuca made an appearance the only person left more senior than me was the one buying the drinks.
I was supposed to be going for a pint with an old friend I worked with in Days of Yore, but she cancelled at the last minute (sorry but I fail to see how childcare arrangements are more important than beer). So, not one to be deprived of my Friday night drink, I asked a colleague if she fancied a swift one. Within an hour half the office was traipsing down to Kings Cross to Caminos.
I think it is fair to say fun was had by all. The more responsible (and sensible) amongst us drifted off at around 6.30pm, leaving the hardcore to venture up the road to Lincoln Lounge – where the Sambuca made an appearance. It is not a bar I have been to before, but, from what I remember (and it starts to get a bit hazy here) it had a pretty cool vibe, comfy chairs and chilled music. Just my cup of tea.
After a couple more beverages, we were down to three. I don’t recall what time it was, but we were hungry for more. The question was, where to now? A quick curry? A bit of a boogie? Nah, way too mainstream. So what did we do? Well, we went bowling.
You see, this is where living in London becomes a real advantage. Not only were we able to get a bus to our next destination well after 11 (not that I recall the journey particularly well), we were able to go somewhere other than a night club or a brothel for our late night entertainment. Excellent! And then, after two games of bowling – in which I managed to get a STRIKE, thank you very much – we decided it was maybe time to line our stomachs with some food. At two in the morning.
But, for our old chum London, this was not a problem. We wobbled over to a cab and in less than a hiccup later, we were at Green Lanes, tucking into a mighty fine Shish Kebab with salad, harissa and rice. Beautiful! What more could a girl ask for?
Alas, the night had to end at some point. After stuffing our faces with Turkish delights, we started to flag. It was time to go home. So, once I had secured a doggie bag for my lunch the next day, we wandered out to find a cab. How much for a cab to Finsbury Park with two drop off points, we enquired? £7.50 each. As in 15 quid. For a ten minute journey. We tried to haggle (not easy in the circumstances) and got nowhere. So, begrudgingly, we agreed our fare and collapsed onto the back seat.
I crawled into bed next to a snoring Him Indoors at 3pm a happy bunny. It had been a good night. Beer, bowling and ‘babs, all within easy reach at unreasonable hours. God I love London sometimes.
I just wish the cabs weren’t so bloomin’ expensive...