A night out

Well more than one really.

Went to see Little Eagles at the Hampstead Theatre. Not bad although some things are easier than others to portray on stage. Launching cosmonauts into space are in the more difficult camp. But the Russian space programme is at least a different topic for a play.

Then Thursday night I attended the Professional Pensions Award dinner at the Grosvenor Hotel on Park Lane. Now you may be thinking, swanky dinner, but must be a bit tedious. How perceptive you are dear reader.

On the dull side, well something like 30 awards to sit through. How can you dress up "Pension Accountant of the Year Award"or "Third Part Administrator of The Year" as anything glamorous? And you inevitably have to read out award and winner and actually present it, so time doesn't exactly fly past. In fact so long and tedious is the process that it is split into two, one half before being fed and one after. The need for alcohol to soften the tedium was great. But on the plus side one could chat to one's neighbours quite happily over the top of the endless prize-giving, and the presenter, the young Scottish comic Kevin Bridges, did his best, and did do a brief routine before hand. Indeed pretty much the routine he then did on Saturday night in the Stand-up show on Channel 4.

Unfortunately, when surrounded by quite as much excess, I felt the need to stick some money in the charity envelope for Kids. I came to regret my generosity when I missed the last tube home and realised I hadn't got enough money for the taxi home.

Now without the champagne, red and white wine and port (followed by an ever so tiny cup of coffee) I might have taken the logical choice of going to a cash point and getting enough money to make the journey. However instead I thought the best plan was to limp all the way from Park Lane to Tottenham Court Road and get a night bus home. Which given the lateness of the hour and the fact I wasn't far from Soho and was in a dinner jacket, meant that I had to refuse the kind entreaties of a number of seedy gentlemen usually of foreign extraction which generally went along the lines of " Hello my friend. How are you? Would you like some nice ladies tonight?" Well it didn't seem the place to enter into a semantic conversation, such as you're not my friend as we haven't met, your concern for the welfare of a complete stranger is touching, but the ladies are unlikely to be nice. Or even ladies. As it was I just practised shaking my head and thinking the ride I had in mind was rather less energetic than the one he had.