In the beginning of March I went on a girls’ weekend in London. The last time I went away on my own was last summer (you can read about it in a series of posts: Solo Trip to London, Afternoon in English Countryside, Cabaret in Camden Town and Elegant Brunch & Ladies’ Afternoon), so some kids free time was very much appreciated. A couple of my friends live in London, another one was flying over from Holland – it was going to be just perfect!

Not everything went according to plan, though. Does it ever? First draw back was that one of our friends got really sick, so she had to stay home during the whole of the weekend. All the more reasons to plan another weekend to get together in full strength!

Another unexpected alteration to my travel plans was my AirBnB accommodation. It was the same owner, but a different flat at a different address. I was slightly surprised, when I was told by the owner to pick up the keys at Warwick Avenue tube station, while the address in question was in between Maida Vale and St. John’s Wood. Fair enough, I thought, it’s probably more convenient for her to meet me there. And then she told me she would walk me to the flat – and thank God she did! Otherwise, I would just go to the address I had. When walking into an apartment that even looked different to the one on the photos I was not amused. The owner told me she has two flats on AirBnB and it was probably a mix up on their side. The flat was clean and nice, it was already 8pm Friday night and the girls were waiting for me to join them for dinner and drinks. I noted down the new address (as I was completely sure I would forget it otherwise) and headed over to have fun.

We agreed to have dinner on Baker Street – the place where we spent most of our time during student years. Quick dinner and off to the pub for one drink. One of the girls had a moving day coming up so she had to get up at 7 and I booked a workshop for the next day starting at 9:30. Of course, ‘one drink’ was normally a code word for ‘we’ll be out till everything around is closed and to hell with whatever comes tomorrow’ when we were students. Things didn’t change much.

After the pub served its last drinks we realised that we still had things to discuss. We needed a quiet place where we could do just that. A bartender told us about a pub where she used to work, just off Oxford Circus. That sounded like a good plan until we got there and were told that the pub upstairs is already closing, but the club downstairs is still opened. A club didn’t sound as appealing as we would have to shout, but we didn’t come all this way to turn around. As we headed downstairs one of the bouncers stopped us in our tracks: ‘Ladies, show me your ID’s, please, it’s over 28’s’. I was just processing this information, when one my friends answered for all of us, while already descending into the dimly lit club: ‘Thank you for the compliment, darling, you just made my day!’. The songs that they played downstairs were on top of the charts during our student years and that proved the point – we were definitely over 28’s, no way around it.