There was a news item today that nudged a memory to the fore, a recent but as yet un-noted event.
A few weeks back Marmalade and I went to a show. Pre lockdown we went to the theatre lots and we’re easing our way back in. Some events are free to me due to Marmalade’s work. Ballet and all things cultural. I wanted to return the favour. I found a show in a tiny but interesting, theatre with a bar. A cabaret with table service, The Beguiling Hour. It started at 9.15, yes 9.15 pm but what the hell, it was just an hour.
Well no it wasn’t, it was in fact the beguiling two hours.
A two hour burlesque cabaret, which if you need clarification, I obviously should have got some, a two hour strip show. I wasn’t expecting that.
Thanks Marmalade for all the culture, here’s some tits.
Tits, tassels, feathers, fan dances, elaborate costumes, song, dance, music, naughty maitre d’, it was all great. We were so close to the stage we could smell the performers. Very fragrant. We would both highly recommend it. Inspired, we were going to practice our burlesque stripper moves. However my current thinking is, unless I can jump, land doing the splits while dressed only in fancy pants and tit tassels, what’s the point? No chance and no point, I admit defeat sorrowfully.
The news item that reminded me of this late night out, and got me planning the next, was that Greggs in Leicester Square has won a battle with Westminster council to stay open until 2 am. So now you could see a show at The Crazy Coqs, have one of the best cocktails you’ll ever have in The Bar American, and then, because the fabulous Brasserie Zedel shuts by midnight, you could instead grab a Greggs pasty on the way home.
A proper night out.
fat tart 