The Toff In Town

Had a girl's night out last night.  We had dinner and drinks at this marvellous place on Swanston Street in the city. Climbed lots of stairs in the heat and walked into - nirvana.  A gorgeously bohemian place filled with secret booths made out of old railway carriages.  Buttons to call your waiter like a butler.  Nothing better than a delightfully young camp waiter in a white t-shirt with good suggestions. The food was Thai tapis, and my Champagne Bellini had red rose petals floating in a 50s glass.  It was very cool.

Then we went clubbing in the same building.  Now as you know readers I am partial to a good night out, although I must say my clubbing days are not as many in a year as they used to be.  But they were playing exactly the same music I have been dancing to for the last three decades.  EXACTLY THE SAME.  All of the young men sported beards.  And all of the young people new the words to Witney Houston and Ah-Ha.  I ended up dancing with a young man who may or may not be blowing up a plane today - big black bushy beard.

It was so daggy it was good.  Nothing like a bit of Ce-Ce Peniston to make a girl feel good again. Perked me up no end.  I even stayed out with the late-nighters and came home at what I thought was a very respectable 2am.  Rock on.