Night on the tiles meant no pounding the pavement

I have a confession to make. Not only was last week my blogging anniversary but Friday was also my birthday. I may be 35 but I still feel like a child. When does it hit you that you are supposed to be a responsible grownup? I mean, I have two kids, am on my second marriage and have had various operations usually performed on older people (why get a boob job when you can get your bunions fixed!). At my daughter’s parent-teacher meetings I sometimes forget I am not the student. I still think anti-age products aren’t for me; not because I don’t need them but “surely I am too young”! Whether this is about being young at heart or in denial, I am not sure.

A prime example of forgetting your age was when my husband took me out on Friday. A quick Thai dinner at Busaba and he took me to a bar he knew but I had never been to. A small place, tucked away just off Oxford Street but yet a place that couldn’t have felt further away from the mayhem of the busiest shopping street in London – Bradley’s Spanish Bar (with a definite Irish edge to it). What can I say, we like our bars slightly grotty with sticky surfaces and genuine people. The star of the bar was the Jukebox, full of amazing tunes.


We whiled away a few hours there until he took me to another absolute gem. I can’t tell you the name of the place as I don’t think it even has one. All I know is that you know it from it’s blue door. It’s a private members club but only in the sense that you have to be a member to get in. Not a place for posers, what you see is what you get in this place. I have never been anywhere with a more varied mix of patrons; the transvestites mixed with what I would bet were members of mafia. Old Irish men telling their stories to beautifully made-up women and middle-aged Indy “kids” dancing to the music. The lady at the door said you had to be a member to get in and my husband asked how much it cost. She said “five”. Husband asked; five hundred? She said, no, Β£5 for a life-time membership, or “until you lose your card”. We managed to blag our way in even though we aren’t currently members but husband is putting this right.

So long story short; I had to skip my run/gym on Saturday. I had a bit of a head, to say the least… Not something I do lightly but definitely the healthiest thing. I did go to the gym on Sunday and felt amazing afterwards.

Tuesday I am planning to go for a run. I have my running assessment that afternoon so it might be better to go to the gym as my leg WILL hurt after the run but I am dying for a good run.


8 thoughts on “Night on the tiles meant no pounding the pavement

    1. 35 feels like that pivot place towards the dreaded 40s. And the funny thing is that I look at other women and I think most of them look better and generally “get better” as they get older. So not sure why I feel it doesn’t apply to me. But then – who cares, right? We all age!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s