A proper Sunday lunch at The Chelsea Arts Club courtesy of an old family friend. “You should be a member here,” I get and sometimes I think I should start that process before I’m geriatric but then it’s a monthly subscription and will I be in Chelsea long enough to make use of it? As often as not I’m happy to go out to the local pubs. There are some great ones in the area. The Phoenix on Smith Street, just a short walk from mine, is one good example.
After lunch, after rehearsal, a quick pint of Guinness there because after all it is St Patrick’s Day. It left me feeling bloated though. Guinness is good for you, they used to say, but I was of a mind to yak it back up for a while.
A good Sunday though. This time of year is often sad for me. Distractions and old friends very welcome. Nina even paid for lunch so I’m gonna get one back for her. Is a good roast at that club, but it’s not the budget option. Lots of interesting art, not the youngest visible membership, no mobile phones allowed. A little snapshot of a different world.
I did dandle with the idea of a club. I liked the look of The House of St Barnabus but now that’s gone and Birch along with it, more’s the pity.
I’m happy and warm at home. Well fed and good company. Early start tomorrow, back on exam time. I should sleep but I’m wired. Gonna lie in the bath for ages. That’ll fix it. Happy Paddys.
AlBarclay 