Tag Archives: friends

Oktoberfest in London: Epic times

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When I convinced fifty one of my friends to accompany me to Oktoberfest in London to celebrate my birthday, I must admit I was a bit concerned it wouldn’t live up to my expectations. After going to the ‘real’ Oktoberfest in Munich in 2010 the bar was set extremely high, and I wasn’t convinced the true spirit of the event would translate all that well in an English context. But fortunately I was wrong, and as soon as we walked into the tent and saw hundreds of people dancing on the tables holding giant steins of beer I knew we had made a good decision to come. Before long we were dancing on our table too, singing along to all the cheesy songs and sloshing beer around with the best of them. It really was rip roaring fun, despite the ridiculous lack of beer taps and staff, which led to enormous queues for the bar and ultimately to our leaving early and returning to the pub we started in to continue the festivities. But by far the best bit of the day for me, besides seeing all my friends in Bavarian fancy dress, was when an East End gangster strolled into the pub and bought my entire party shots of jager bomb for my birthday. Utterly, utterly surreal, and absolutely bloody fantastic. Maybe thirty two won’t be so bad after all…

Prost!!

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Today is my thirty second birthday party and, true to form, I have arranged a suitably ridiculous event to mark this auspicious occasion. From 1pm, fifty two lederhosen and dirndl-clad men and women, all between the ages of twenty five and thirty five, will be gathering in a pub somewhere near Greenwich. Once the motley crew has assembled, we will make our way to Milwall Park to collect our tickets for Oktoberfest London, where we will proceed to dance, make merry, drink beer and eat stew like they’re going out of fashion. If we can’t go to the real Oktoberfest in Germany this is the next best thing. As they say, if you can’t bring Mohammed to the mountain, bring the mountain to Mohammed. And if you can’t dress up and be silly on your birthday when can you?

Hey Shorty…

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After the success that was my first experience of a US blues rock band, Vintage Trouble, tonight my musical odyssey continues with a gig at Koko in Camden by New Orleans trumpet and trombone player, Trombone Shorty. Both recommendations came courtesy of my friend and travelling (now also gig) partner Gabrielle, whose finger is pushing hard on a pulse I never knew existed (my own music collection to date comprising a handful of woefully old drum and bass albums and a random assortment of chart music so cheesy even Steps would have refused to sing it).

The Vintage Trouble gig was a few weeks ago now, but I can still remember the energy of the crowd and the phenomenal stage presence of the (not unattractive, which always helps) band members. Their charisma, confidence and catchy tunes sliced through my Monday blues like a well-oiled knife, which is exactly what I’m hoping Trombone Shorty will succeed in replicating this evening after what has been a frankly shocking day. Gabrielle assures me Vintage Trouble were but a warm up for this, the main event. Trombone Shorty, my man, you’ve got your work cut out tonight, let me tell you-see you Short-ly (see what I did there? I’m here all week).

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Sadness, and new friends

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Sometimes in life things happen that shake your faith in all that’s good in the world in ways you never imagined possible. One such thing happened last weekend, when a new friend was tragically killed in a car accident. I say “new” friend because we had only met him and his beautiful girlfriend two weeks previously, at the wedding of a mutual friend in Scotland. As fate would have it Travelodge had overbooked and as a result the four of us were selected by the bride and groom to share a luxury lodge in the grounds of a 5* hotel. The lodge overlooked a golf course and was absolutely charming. Needless to say we had a wonderful weekend, not only at the wedding itself but also at the hotel the next day, where the four of us made full use of the spa facilities, sitting in the jacuzzi and sauna for an age and even sampling the kids’ water slide (!) and the mini golf in the grounds (or rather, the boys played mini golf whilst Sarah and I faffed around in the changing rooms-standard female behaviour). When we said goodbye we vowed to meet up before Sarah and Paul went back to Australia, where they’ve been living for a year. Though we hardly knew them we felt that exciting spark of possibility, the likes of which become rarer with age. We sensed we might just have met friends for life, and it was a lovely feeling.

To say it was a shock to hear from Sarah last week and find out Paul had been killed in an accident the previous weekend would be grossly understating the breadth and scope of emotions that accompanied such tragic news. A tidal wave of sadness washed over me. Then, as the flood waters began to recede just a little, came a powerful aftershock of anger. I’ve struggled with the concept of religious faith for many years, and this has rocked the foundations of my fragile beliefs more than anything I can remember. I always felt deep down that everything happened for a reason, but now I’m floundering and at a loss for what possible reason there could be for such a wonderful human being to be taken away in the prime of his life, leaving a trail of sadness and a gaping hole in his wake.

If there can be any solace at all from this utterly tragic loss it is that we have gained a wonderful, warm-hearted and genuine friend in Sarah, and that we have seen true friendship in the coming together of Sarah and Paul’s friends over the past few days. With what little faith I’ve managed to cling onto I am praying with all my might for Sarah and all of Paul’s friends and family, that they may find the strength to get through this awful time. And I’m thanking God for having brought Paul into our lives, even though it was for such a painfully short time.

Emma & Harry’s wedding: The aftermath

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Needless to say the rest of yesterday’s wedding festivities were a rip roaring success, though they led to a fair few sore heads this morning. Fortunately for those of us staying at Cameron House Hotel the spa facilities were on hand to soothe the pain, and after a sauna and jacuzzi things began to look up.

The bride and groom had organised a barbecue at the rugby club in Helensburgh for those wedding guests who didn’t have to shoot off, and the turn out was predictably good. We had a fun afternoon going over the previous day’s antics and continuing the celebrations before people gradually began to drift off to the airport and train station and make their long journeys home.

Fortunately for us we’d had the foresight to book an extra night in Helensburgh so have had a leisurely evening stroll to the Wee Kelpy fish and chip shop and are now back to veg out and watch the Shawshank Redemption before bed. We may be in a Travelodge but it’s possibly the best appointed one I’ve ever stayed in, looking right out over the sea and the wild Scottish landscape. Right now I feel a million miles away from city living and (residual headache aside) I have to say it feels fantastic.

Congrats Emma & Harry x

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I’m writing this on the coach to my gorgeous friend Emma’s wedding reception after attending the ceremony in a beautiful church overlooking Loch Lomond in bonny (if slightly rainy) Scotland. The service was wonderful and the bride looked absolutely stunning.

It’s such an honour and a privilege to be invited to a friend’s wedding, and this one in particular was particularly special as I met Emma during my travels two years ago, not long after she had met her lovely (now) husband Harry. Emma has an effervescent and infectious personality which is why I loved her from the moment we first met, and nothing could make me happier than seeing how happy and radiant she looks today, on her wedding day. I know that she and Harry will be very happy together.

To top off an already fabulous weekend we found out on Wednesday we were being  upgraded from the Travelodge to the 5* Cameron House Hotel due to an overbooking error by the Travelodge. As a result we spent this morning wandering the grounds around the loch and making full use of the leisure facilities (which, to my great delight included an impressive water slide).

Things can only get better (and probably slightly drunker) from here on in…CONGRATULATIONS GUYS, I love you loads xxxxx

Festival fever

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Today I’m off to a one day music festival (Hideaway festival) in Henley-on-Thames. Having spent a large portion of my formative teenage years in Henley I’m looking forward to going back, seeing some old friends and drinking cider in the sunshine (provided the weather holds out).

I’m particularly looking forward to seeing singer-songwriter, Megan Henwood, and “urban reggae heavyweights,” Laid Blak, perform. I first saw Megan sing at an intimate gig in Reading organised by a friend of mine, and was mesmerised by the rawness of her lyrics and the ethereal quality of her voice. Afterwards I snapped up her album and have listened to it countless times since. Laid Blak are a different kettle of fish entirely but no less brilliant-I saw them at last year’s Secret Garden Party festival and this year’s Glastonbury and loved them both times-especially their fab cover of Bob Marley’s ‘Don’t worry.’

As I’ve got older my desire to hang out in sweaty clubs until 6am has certainly waned, yet my love of festivals is still going strong. Whereas once I had the fleeting thought I’d have to stop going to festivals once I’d passed my early thirties, now I’m here I can quite see myself at Glastonbury ten years from now, cider in hand and a big grin plastered on my face.

What I love most about festivals besides the music is the fact they are so inclusive. Whereas going to certain clubs beyond the age of 30 might elicit odd looks from the pre-pubescent clubbers therein (and at this point I refer back to my recent experience of Audio club in Brighton-horrific), by and large at festivals nobody cares how old you are. Everyone’s just in the same muddy boat, and despite the inevitable rain, punctured mattresses and overflowing portaloos it’s simply fabulous.

Also, whether they last for a day or a week, festivals offer a much-needed opportunity to cut loose and forget about the outside world. They enable grown adults to act like teenagers again, albeit only for a few hours. Getting together with friends in a field full of live music and cider tents-surely that’s what life’s about?

Weddings and Argos (a bad combination)

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Yesterday’s wedding was absolutely lovely, though it rather unfortunately ended with me falling asleep in my room at the B&B – with the only key – before my friend got back. Needless to say she was less than impressed when half an hour of loud banging on the door failed to rouse me from my slumber, and she subsequently had to sleep in a vacant (but, by all accounts, pretty grotty) single room on another floor. The text I received from her at the moment of her giving up and going to the other room ended with the words “I may kill you in the morning if I see you,” which I think sums up her general state of mind fairly accurately. Fortunately she has since forgiven me, and is now finding the whole situation rather more humorous.

Needless to say after a somewhat boozy wedding and the accommodation drama (which saw me get less than four hours’ sleep in total) I wasn’t all that keen on spending my afternoon buying essential items for the new flat (which, aside from the bed, sofas and hoover was pretty much empty), but like the trooper I am I nonetheless trooped dutifully down to Argos in Brixton (via Brixton village for a slap up pulled pork bap lunch). An hour and £130 later I was back at the flat unpacking an assortment of cheap kitchenware, and I am now going to have a much earned rest. Until tomorrow…

Efficiency, a house move and a wedding

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I’m not sure I’ve ever witnessed efficiency on such a scale as I did this morning. The man with the van arrived at 8.45am (fifteen minutes early), our friend five minutes after that, and within half an hour my entire room was packed into the van and the boys were off to the new flat, leaving me to do a final spot check and tidy. By the time I arrived at the new place some twenty minutes later the only things remaining in the van were a couple of bags. Inside the flat things were strewn everywhere, granted, but it didn’t take long to make in-roads into the chaos, and I’ve left it in a reasonable state to pick up from tomorrow when I get back from my friend’s wedding in Cambridge. It really is all go!

As for the wedding, it’s the third one of my best friends from school, and all the more significant for me as I missed the first two because I was travelling. Today will also be the first time the five of us will have all been in the same place at the same time for years. In fact, since  we were last together there have been two weddings and one baby-I can hardly believe how fast the time has gone. So I’ll certainly make the most of catching up and celebrating-after the move I think I deserve it!

Maritime adventures and Philharmonic fun

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This weekend I managed to escape the rat race and head down to Rochester to spend the weekend with friends from my Borneo volunteering experience in 2011. The purpose for the visit, besides a general meet up, was to visit one member of the group who has recently bought a house boat (and accompanying berth) on the Medway Marina.

Having always loved being beside the water this was an ideal excursion for me and, though the summer heat wave was taking a slightly disappointing impromptu break, we had a great day lunching on the boat and walking along Baty’s Marsh. At one stage during the walk there were scenes of high drama when we heard a monumental crash and ran back to the main road, to find a hysterical woman who had crashed her Audi into a barrier. Fortunately our Raleigh expedition medic was with us and was able to help calm the woman down until the police arrived.

In the evening we had a barbecue at the marina before walking the half hour to Rochester Castle for a Proms concert by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra (buying tickets for this was possibly the most grown up I’ve ever felt). None of us knew what to expect and we were taken aback by the organisation (almost everyone had thought to bring camping chairs) and the sea of Union Jack flags. We found a spot on the perimeter to lay our picnic rug down and duly proceeded to enjoy the evening’s festivities – in particular the awesome fireworks display at the end of the night (which my brain found somewhat confusing given that fireworks are normally restricted to November).

A night cap at the marina boat yard when we had walked back rounded off what had been a perfect day, and we rested our heads aboard the splendid Sovereign B&B boat. All in all it was a thoroughly British weekend – stubborn weather included – and I loved every second.