Mahinda’s Little World

I don’t think I ever wrote this one up. A couple of weekends ago, I moseyed on up to Claire’s place, for the first time in ages.

Friday night traffic was just not pleasant. In the driving rain, I reckon there were two decent-sized accidents that each happened about a mile ahead of me. Needless to say, I spent a lot of the journey not going very fast.

I eventually got to Claire’s place, up in Gateshead, at something like 10pm, having forgotten my directions. She then plied me with pizza and rocket, before we settled down on the sofa for some wine and a good long chat.

Now, Claire’s one of my closest friends. I’ve known her for pretty much ten years, one of which was spent as her housemate, and (almost) three of which were spent going out with one of her best friends. Unfortunately, we really don’t see much of each other these days, so it was absolutely lovely to spend a bit of time alone together.

Saturday was all about entertaining. Claire and I were basically throwing a bit of a dinner party for us and two “other” couples. I say “other couples” (I’m not going to attempt double double quotes!) because, well, Claire and I are clearly not a couple.

The others were Josephine & James, who had travelled from York, and Ed & Andrea, who’d come up from Hathersage. All of us except James had known each other from back in our university days, and had all been in MUGSS*. Josephine, Andrea and Claire had spent a year living together (in Allingham St), as had Claire, Andrea and me (Park Range). Oh, and Josephine and Andrea had been Oak House flatmates in their first year. Sod it - just look at the diagram!

* It’s actually through Tim (old schoolmate, in MUGSS) that I really met Claire, Josephine and Andrea, on the somewhat auspicious date of 29th February 1996. I’d met Claire before, as we were in the same group of flats (she was in 51, me in 53), but we’d not really spoken much.

Meal

A fair mix of dietary preferences meant that my stock variation on “salmon or chicken on a bed of mushroom risotto” wasn’t going to happen, so we went for something out of my newly-acquired MasterChef Goes Large cookbook.

Well, sort of - as usual, it was based on the cookbook, but wasn’t quite the same.

We ended up doing chicken breasts stuffed with ricotta, mozzarella and spinach, lovingly wrapped in prosciuttio, accompanied with creamy champ, steamed baby carrots and peas.

We’d not realised that Ed was non-cheese (as well as non-fancy), so one of the chicken parcels had to be quickly opened and decheesed before being cooked. Turned out alright, though.

I supplied a mish-mash of a starter, with slivers of toasted French stick coated in (a) leftover ricotta/mozzerella/spinach mixture, (b) tuna, onion and herb, or (c) herbs and olive oil.

Josephine supplied dessert, which took the form of cream cakes. We were all a bit full by that point!

Trivial

After dinner, we played Trivial Pursuit 20th Anniversary Edition. Which is RUBBISH! The questions are all from the last 20 years, which is fair enough, but they’re utterly hit-and-miss - if you’re lucky, you get “What’s Ginger Spice’s real name?” If you’re not, you get “What’s Michael Bolton’s shoe size?” It’s got a much higher luck factor than real Trivial Pursuit.

Pub!

Once that was over, we took a trip out to Claire’s local (well, the second closest pub - her first didn’t look too promising). She’d never been there before, and we were pleasantly surprised - a proper quiet local pub, with decent ale and a lock-in! What more do you need?

Unfortunately, we didn’t really take advantage of the lock-in, although Ed and I, left to our own devices, would probably have stayed there for hours.

Went back, drank some more, and went to bed.

Grammatically Incorrect

The Sage Gateshead.

Not “The Sage, Gateshead” but “The Sage Gateshead”.

It’s “a new home for music, bringing about a widespread and long-term enrichment of music in the North of England.”

Basically, it’s a concert hall and stuff, and Claire’s a manager there. It’s a pretty amazing place, looking like a giant slug (halfway through digesting another slug) on the Gateshead waterfront. It’s got two main halls, which don’t actually touch each other (or the roof) at any point, and there are all these nifty features for musical excellence. And stuff.

Unfortunately, its website is blighted by trendiness and cheese. One of those things where it all looks very nice, but you start reading and realise that it’s the textual equivalent of a cappucino - all froth and no substance. And the name, which is just crying out for a comma. Without one, it’s just something (or someone) called Gateshead, who happens to be particularly wise.

Anyway, Claire gave us the tour on Sunday morning, once Josephine and James had left. Ed and Andrea hadn’t really seen the place before, while I’d been shown it twice previously.

After the tour, we went round the Baltic Centre, which was interesting (as usual) then up to two pubs. First up, The Tyne, which was very nice indeed (and served a good pint), and then The Cluney, (nothing to do with George) which is a Head of Steam pub. Sunday lunch at The Cluney was tasty and large, which was exactly what we needed!

Herbs and Rubber

Once Ed and Andrea went on their merry way, Claire had work for me.

Namely, helping her fix a puncture on her bike (she’s perfectly capable, but it’s got proper racer wheels so changing the tyre is a bugger for one), then planting some herbs that we’d bought on Saturday.

She’s now got a windowbox with sage, chives, thyme and parsley, plus a pot of basil. I think. Not that I’ve got green fingers - I just know about herbs.

We then realised that we’d not had Andrea’s birthday cake, which had been carefully hidden then forgotten about. So we did. And very nice it was, too!

 

Age and Beauty

Fortunately, the drive home was far smoother than the one there. Got back around 8pm, and had to head out immediately to find Laura, who was out celebrating her 30th birthday. I eventually found her and her chums in a curry house, and hung out with them for a while before heading back to her place, along with her teacher mates (she’s in her first year of teaching secondary stuff).

Laura’s one of those girls who really doesn’t look her age. Well, I don’t think so, anyway. I definitely think of her as my age (27) rather than 30.

The teacher mates were…odd. But then, my experience of teachers has shown me that, when they do let their hair down (not often), they bloody well go mental.

I didn’t mind. I just had to drink faster in an attempt to get at least some way towards their level.

Went home eventually, and to bed. Another eventful weekend.