It’s Friday afternoon and I’m
watching the clock. Not because I’m at
work - a lovely flexi-day has seen to that – but because I’m off to Angel in a
little over an hour to meet my favourite, if a little mad, American.
I imagine some of you will be
rolling your eyes at this point. Angel,
on a Friday evening? Such a cliché. Okay, so it might not be as trendy as Hoxton
and Shoreditch or as la-di-da as Kensington and Chelsea, but it has a hell of a
lot going for it.
Last Saturday I found myself at
everyone’s favourite blue square on the Monopoly board once again. I met a couple of friends at the Union Chapel
at two, and, having caught the last twenty minutes or so of the Saturday
lunchtime session have vowed to return in the autumn for some very reasonably
priced – and really rather good – live music.
We then pottered over to the
Business and Design Centre to have a look around the Czech House. Being frugal
types, we weren’t prepared to pay the fiver to get in – but were in awe of the
art installation outside. The almost
life-sized double-decker in front of us showed off its stamina with a series of
press-ups from its muscular arms – and, ladies, it’s bottom was pretty peachy
too. No, haven’t been smoking
anything I shouldn’t have. Go on, head
to Upper Street – you have to see David Cerny’s giant sculpture to believe it.
After a spot of lunch on the
green (or a blueberry flavoured Samba Swirl iced yoghurt in my case – yum!) we
walked down to the Victoria Miro gallery near Old Street to see Grayson Perry’s
tapestries. They beautifully illustrated
his study into class and taste as documented on his recent TV show for Channel
4, In the Best Possible Taste. They were magnificent – and thought
provoking. No matter which “class” you
consider yourself to be, I can guarantee you will see a bit of yourself in at
least one of the pieces – even if you’d rather that you didn’t.
After a swift pint of two in The
Narrowboat, I headed home with my friend to get ready for a spot (or rather a
lot as it turned out) of dancing. After
a rather tasty curry and a couple of beers in front of the telly, we got
changed and headed back to the capital of Islington. A couple of drinks later (including an
espresso) we went to the O2 Academy for Club de Fromage – and were delighted to
find out that, for an extra three quid, we could have entry into Feeling Gloomy
too if the cheesy pop got all a bit much for us. We had a great time – the music was a
palatable cheddar (with a few tasty chunks of stilton thrown in for good
measure), made all the more digestible by our ability to interchange with the
sedentary indie next door. Okay, so
there were the usual pissed, rude and annoying people in the crowd, but
generally the atmosphere was quite chilled, and even the men who tried to woo
us with their moves were cool when we politely turned them away.
So, yes, Angel isn’t the coolest
corner of the capital, but I can’t help but love it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to put my
face on and decide what to wear...
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