Boozy floozy ... and friends

It’s not been the easiest of times so I was glad that an opportunity for a fun afternoon and evening was available. Two friends, Tiff and Gina, were spending a few days in London and they’d asked me a while back to book the popular Sarastro’s restaurant for dinner last night.

But I’d also heard that Saffy, whom I hadn’t seen in a while, was in town meeting up with my friend Joanne as they had tickets to see Depeche Mode in concert. I am happy to clarify to younger readers that Depeche Mode were (or indeed still are) a popular beat combo of the 1980s. These crooners of a bygone era still apparently have a following and as Joanne was keen to tell absolutely everyone that she had tickets, and everyone was very jealous (why she didn’t get punched I’ll never know), I assume they are still popular. I myself have little ear for music so I'm happy to leave them to it.

Anyway, Joanne had just finished a shift as stand-in manageress at the Three Greyhounds, a small but popular pub in a busy corner of Soho so the three of us went to have a bite to eat at the good value and worthwhile French bistro Prix Fixe in Dean Street. http://www.prixfixe.net/london/restaurant/index.asp The food was good as ever and the staff very friendly, but I got locked in the loo for a while. I read a lot of WW2 escape literature in my weird childhood (while brushing dollies’ hair with the other hand) so I knew I would be free with a jolly old bit of application and pluck. The lock wasn’t the sort you could pick with a hairpin. So I virtually pulled the lock out of the door and made my escape by brute force. And I neglected to tell the Commandant of the damage to bistro property. I distinctly heard bullets whizz by my ears as me, Ginger and Frosty escaped to Soho and freedom …

So they went off to Dispatch Mood at the O2 (that’s the Millennium Dome for older readers) and, thanks to a casual comment in conversation I decided the evening would start off well at Christopher’s American Bar and Grill in Wellington Street. http://www.christophersgrill.com/rooms/martini-bar/ Very keen readers will know I’ve been here before. The polite staff asked “if Madame would like a seat at the bar”. Madame would indeed and the skilled French barman (le mixeur? – actually, I think that’s a Moulinex) handed me the cocktail list. I selected something suitably potent, ice cold, garishly coloured and utterly delicious to sip, like a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster with a feminine edge. The barman drew my eye, by a glance of professional subtlety honed by years of practice, to the noticboard detailing rehabilitation centres as the effect of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick connected with my girly head.

Now I thought I looked pretty smart in my pleated chiffon skirt, black and white top, my favourite little black jacket, satin shoes and smart sheer gloss tights but Tiff and Gina were in knockout dresses, absolutely stunning. And to think they ordered beers! They lifted me off my stool and plonked my woozy frame at the long marble-topped table that runs most of the way down the room. A small spill from my Girly Blaster etched its way into the stone, hissing slightly. Now I’m not one to mix my drinks … so it was definitely time to call a halt to that tradition! I have been intrigued by their most popular cocktail, the Nutella Martini. I had to have one. Oh it was smooth … and two women along the table were loud in their approval at my chocolatey choice! Recommended. It wasn’t so strong as the other one, though. (Not that that’s bad, you understand. Its just not quite as good!)

I have recently seen The Great Gatsby at the cinema and I thought we might have made good extras.

Decadence. I love it.

Anyway, we needed food so we met Ange, my super T sister, and went to Sarastro’s, an extraordinary restaurant in Drury Lane where the décor is as much part of the experience. http://www.sarastro-restaurant.com/ Our table was a good one on a balcony up steep little stairs (keeps the waiters fit). Avid readers of this blog (you lovely people – we must go out some time) will know we’ve been here before and will recognise the gold leaf, tiles, Tiffany lamps, books, cushions, erotic frescos, and air of clutter that goes with this place. The food is good (Turkish emphasis) and it’s the place for a party at an unhurried pace. Perhaps not quite what it was in its heyday when the founder was still alive, but it’s still somewhere amazingly fun, and they like us TGirls because we are flamboyant too! Do click the link to their website.

Tiff and Gina wanted to visit Trannyshack. So we walked through Covent Garden and bustling Soho to Madame JoJo’s and I showed them the venue and Escape next door where the usual excruciating karaoke setup was mangling popular songs, which are somewhat less popular with me as a result. I had serious work to do today so I abandoned the two of them to the tender lurve and silver-tongued charm of the admirers and Miss Dusty O. That’ll learn ’em!

I fell asleep on the last train home and nearly missed my station. Hope my lolling head wasn’t accompanied by any snores or any dribble. I see us girls as ambassadors of sorts for transkind – I would hate to cause a diplomatic incident by looking like some overfed boozy drooling snoring floozy! As if!

What a great day. Just the tonic I needed. And a big thanks to my really lovely friends Joanne, Saffy, Tiff, Gina and Ange who always make things special.

Sue x