Modern Nonsense
Last night I had a rare night out. Some work colleagues and I went to the Christmas markets in Manchester. We met up with some friends of mine too. We went through what's nowadays called Spinningfields. I hadn't been there since it was built - what a surprise that place is. Nothing like the Manchester I know. It could have been anywhere. At least, anywhere yuppies exist. There's a bar called The Oast House, complete with wind cowl on the roof like . . . well, an oast house. Oast houses as far as I know are peculiar to Kent so i've no idea why there is a fake one just off Deansgate. The offices and bars surrounding it reminded me of Canary Wharf. I found it dispiriting and inappropriate. Then we went in somewhere called The Ski Club, a prefabricated bar (the term for such things is "pop-up", a Modern Nonsense) patronised mainly by narcissistic Patrick Bateman types.
Once the work types had left, my friends and I soothed our souls by dropping in on Tiger Lounge for an hour, a place I am proud to say displays pictures of our eighteen year old selves on the wall. We danced to The Smiths, The Cure, T-rex and others. Narcissism is acceptable when I do it.
Joking aside, my stepmother once said that I only like people who are exactly the same as myself. She had a point. I should think everyone chooses their friends on the basis of Things Held In Common, but she had a point nonetheless.
Once the work types had left, my friends and I soothed our souls by dropping in on Tiger Lounge for an hour, a place I am proud to say displays pictures of our eighteen year old selves on the wall. We danced to The Smiths, The Cure, T-rex and others. Narcissism is acceptable when I do it.
Joking aside, my stepmother once said that I only like people who are exactly the same as myself. She had a point. I should think everyone chooses their friends on the basis of Things Held In Common, but she had a point nonetheless.