A hen party of sorts…..

As I had no job to go back to there was no rush for me to return to Dubai, consequently I took the opportunity to spend a few more days in the UK. His nibs continued the journey home and my sis picked me up for a week of catch-up. As wedding plans were afoot this was probably the last time I’d be in Blighty before we tied the knot so a very early hen-party was in order. My sister having not played much part in my first hen-party was keen to make up for it and go a bit mad. Dressing up was the first idea I rejected and fortunately she took the hint and went for something more low key, a sash with bride to be and a balloon. We’d decided on Canal Street, the gay centre of Manchester just because it’s great fun, there’s rarely any hassle and they have some great eateries. Helen was up from London, Fintan (an honorary girl) was in town and together with my good mate Ang, her friend Andrea, my mum and her mate Sue we headed to Velvet for dinner and drinks. There we met up with our Jaki and her boss Gill to complete the party.

After a great meal and a few bottles of wine we left to wonder the street and people watch. There really are fewer places more interesting to watch than a gay village, the characters you come across are a scream, from Carmen Miranda look-a-likes, to Brazilian showgirls, to regular Joe Shmow, it’s a riot. We slowly headed to another bar, The New Union where our Jaki had promised to meet a friend of hers. Now I’m from working class roots and have been in my fair share of dingy bars, but this place took the biscuit. It was dirty, it was smelly and the clientele were positively scary. Call me an old prude if you must but I really don’t like couples, regardless of their sexual orientation, giving it the full tongue job in pubs. In here couples of all mixes were virtually having sex everywhere; I didn’t know where to look. Andrea was attracting a lot of attention, the wrong kind I might add, she’s a pretty blonde girl who is over 6 ft tall and the men who were interested were definitely NOT straight, they were simply too drunk or drugged to realise their error. We promptly downed our awful drinks and left, we couldn’t get our fast enough!

After that scare we went to a place I’d been to many times and knew would be fun and safe! Via Fossa is a labyrinth once inside, with lots of small cubby holes to sit and enjoy a quieter drink, and if the need takes you there’s always the basement for a boogie. Mum and Sue chose to stay in a quieter cubby hole whilst the rest of us headed down to the very dark and very hot dance floor. After an hour of shaking our stuff the minibus we’d hired to take us there and back was due, so we said our farewells to those who were staying or living in Manchester and headed back to St Helens.