Friday morning brought breakfast at O'Neill's on Euston Road (nice Irish sausages but the ordering app was faulty so we had to order drinks separately) then a trip around the stalls at Covent Garden. One vendor was selling nice alternative Dalek prints but I wasn't prepared to pay £40 for a card with three images no matter how fine art they were. No photography was allowed but you can see what I'm talking about here (link to Stu Mackay Fine Art).
We chose somewhere for an early dinner then wandered back towards Leicester Square. As it was another warm day and my wife insists on hydrating regularly, we paused at Amorino Gelato. There, while I was browsing the ice cream selection, an attractive young woman with tied-back, wavy brown hair came in and enquired about the designer bags the vendor gifted with selected purchases. She didn't want an ice cream, having had one elsewhere, but wondered if she could just buy the bag, or maybe two. She pulled a pleading face like it would mean the world to her. Unfortunately, the gelato artist, a pretty Muslim girl in a hijab, explained she was unable to sell the bags separately. I placed my order on the touchscreen and waited while the assistant made my wife's cappuccino. The woman waited too. Then, atypically for me, I started a conversation with her.
"So what's the deal with the bags?" I thought that was a good opening line. I'd rehearsed it in my head first. Surprisingly, it came out intelligible: no verbal stumbles, no stutters and at a volume she could hear.
"Oh, they're amazing," she gushed. "I love the designer. I wear his clothes all the time. They're such good quality."
Overhearing our conversation, the gelato artist explained the bags could only be provided with a purchase of a regular cone or tub. Typical, I thought. Being a greedy sod, I'd ordered a large tub.
"So do I not qualify?" I asked.
She thought about it, then smiled. "Yes. You can have one." She handed me a bag.
I turned to the woman. "You wanted two. Would you like this one?"
"No," she insisted. "Give it to your wife. She'll love it."
So I kept it and gifted it to my wife. And she did love it. As I did my ice cream: Coconut, lemon and red berries.
We'd planned to see a film that afternoon figuring a lovely, air-conditioned cinema would be the perfect place to escape from the heat. I was surprised the Vodafone 'two tickets for £7' deal at Vue cinemas included their London locations, especially Leicester Square, where ticket prices are extortionate, so it was even better getting a bargain.
My wife chose the film: The Little Mermaid (2023).
By halfway through, my left knee was burning with pain. I'd made the mistake of sitting on her right so had left myself no legroom to stretch. Not a happy experience and not just because of the film. There wasn't any air con either so the cinema was sweltering. My wife thought the film was great though and enjoyed all the songs.
Afterwards, we returned to Covent Garden to the All Bar One for some food and refreshments. It was a great place to people-watch. A delightful young waitress with a bouncy pigtail beamed her bright smile at every customer, charming them with enthusiastic service and getting rewarded with big tips. She was practically dancing on the spot after one sale, holding the receipt to her face, flaunting it to the other staff. They genuinely seemed happy for her congratulating her. She deserved it to be fair, though I suspect the hefty tips were partly due to her being Ukrainian, a fact she told everyone who was interested.
The ticket suggested arriving an hour before showtime and thanks to my diverting us to the wrong Underground I knew we weren't going to make it for that time. To be honest, I had no clue how to get there, having left that task to my wife, who'd been there before. In the end, it didn't matter. We strolled through security in seconds, with no queues to wait in, despite the show being sold out.
With minutes to go, I was surprised to see two empty seats in front of us and another four in front of them. It was only when a gruff German latecomer demanded I remove myself from his and his wife's seats, I realised my mistake. We were in row K, not J. Muchly embarrassed, I stepped down into the row below, whereas my wife had to do the shimmy of shame past everyone already seated. She was not amused with me. I reckon it was the heat. She thinks I'm getting senile.
The band respectfully request that no footage is taken during the show, either as photographs or video, so I didn't. That also meant I could pay my full attention to proceedings. The show is amazing. Aurally and visually, it's a spectacle. The whole arena becomes part of the show, completely immersive. Most of the time you couldn't detect you were looking at digital avatars. Only rarely, when you looked closely, could you detect the occasional video game-like expressions between them.
If this is what they can do with technology today, I can't wait to see what they do tomorrow. I think a KISS version of this would be amazing. Get on it, Gene Simmons!
Ticket Price: £286.85 for two,incl fees (face value £129).
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| Pre-show |
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| Post-show |
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