Caveat: all times are, inevitably, somewhat approximate. Although the Best Fun is Organised Fun, one must allow a certain spontaneity to seep through. Or so I’m told.
Apparently, this is quite difficult to find – but it’s opposite the Market restaurant, and there’s a small sign next to the door. Swishy cocktails in a relatively smart but unpretentious environment will be the order of the day. It’s all downhill from here, then…
Again, this is a bit tricky to find – but I’m sure we’ll all cope. This is where we’ll be eating – and here’s a sample menu.
20:30 – 21:50: Crown & Anchor, 41 Hilton Street. (Map)
A traditional, conversation-friendly pub which doesn’t get too crowded. If we’re not here, then it’s because we’ve got ourselves nice and comfortable in Moon. You know, collective inertia and all that.
22:00 – 00:00: The shrill, noisy, nipple-to-nipple bars of Manchester’s bustling Canal Street. Frankly, we could be in any of them. I’m reserving this section of the evening for Devil-May-Care Spontaneity. It’s a risk, but it’s a risk that I’m prepared to take. Just this once. For a maximum of two hours.
00:00 – ??:??: Essential, on the corner of Minshull Street and Bloom Street.
Don’t even THINK of whipping that camera-phone out. And if I end up plastered all over the “Gallery” section of their website, there will be TROUBLE, do you hear?
Once again, for ease of identification, I can exclusively reveal the details of my outfit for the night, as purchased in London’s bustling Canary Wharf just a couple of hours ago. In a radical break with tradition, I have plumped for:
1. A short-sleeved check shirt (from Ted Baker). Dishcloth-hued red-on-white, in a sort of windowpane check. It’s really quite loud. (Well, the red will match the L-plates.)
2. Pre-faded blue jeans (from Gant). Lowish-slung without being embarrassingly age-inappropriate, i.e. they still sit quite well on my arse, and you can’t see my pants.
Ooh, I’m that excited. Last weekend of freedom! Hahahahaha!