Mike in Manchester
The first one since I’ve been a blogger, that is. A blog meet of those who guest-blogged on Mike’s blog was my first but that doesn’t count as I only started blogging a year later. However, the reason for the blog meet had nothing to do with blogs as the purpose of the occasion was to tie Mike up in clingfilm, polish his bollocks with boot polish and have him parade around Manchester wearing an L-plate. Yes, it was Mike’s ‘stag night’. Not that it’s a term he likes but in the absence of anything better, it’ll have to do. That makes another first:
I’ve just been to my first ever gay stag night.
And, it being my first visit to Manchester, that makes a third first. But this isn't about me, it's about Mike, so let me get on with the story.
Three of us (Mike, James and I) took the train from Nottingham; Chig took the train from Birmingham.
Four queens booked into the Princess Hotel. After a drink, four queens went shopping in Selfridges. Before long, four queens had freshened up at the hotel and were prepared for a long night of indulging.
We started with ornate cocktails at Socio Rehab where we were joined by Clare. The event only became a fully-fledged blogmeet once we were joined by Elizabeth and Stuart at Moon where we ate dinner. Apart from Mike having met Elizabeth before, none of the out-of-towners had met the locals before. Andrew, James’ colleague, was the only non-blogger who joined the party towards the end.
It must have been about 10.30 by the time we got to Canal Street. Taurus was chilled and laidback, the right sort of place to drink and converse, probably the best sort of place to go to before getting caught up in the pumping noise of Queer and Essential. By arrangement, I met C, a friend from my Newcastle days, at Queer. He was very drunk and surprised me by his attention and the nice things he had to say to me. Apparently he used to park his car outside my old flat in Newcastle as it reminded him of me. Poor, misguided boy!
Essential was loud, crowded and great fun even if populated by gorgeous, muscled boys who seemed to have been created from the same sausage machine. We could have stayed until 8am but left just after 4.
Only James made breakfast the next morning.
Manchester, allegedly the wettest city in England, was bathed in glorious sunshine yesterday so our last few hours were spent sitting outside where we had lunch.
Despite the lack of debauchery, I had a great weekend. I slept like a log last night.
|Mike's first drink||Cocktail hour||Mike and Chig||Canal Street||Hooded James|
|New sunglasses||Wine reflections||Springtime in Manchester||Let's walk||Wish we'd called a taxi|