Hoxton's Hottest Dog

It was The German's idea. She knows how much me, The Foodie and The Pin Up love animals. Specifically dogs. So when she suggested that we head down to Shoreditch Bark Dog Show (see what they did there?), we didn't hesitate. Hipsters and hounds, what's not to love?

However, when telling people that my plans for Saturday were going to a dog show, I mainly got the reaction of  "....what? A DOG show? .....why?" On the way to the park, we discussed whether it was actually strange that all of us, dogless, were going to a park. To look at the dogs of other people.

"I mean, is it weird though? Is it like adults hanging around a kids' playground? Are we - doggyphiles?"

As expected, this being Shoreditch, there was a high density of people wearing boat shoes and big glasses. But it felt weirdly communal for London, we chatted a bit to a lady who owned a magnificent Labradoodle called Archie. Well, communal and friendly until the witless teenage boys starting antisocially kicking off. The German handily gave us a running commentary.

"Look! Fatty has Ginger's shoes, look!"

We discussed various dog breeds between squealing "Awwwwww! Look at him! AHHHH!". The German has some strong ideas about Labradors which the Pin Up independently backed-up some time later.

"Labradors are fucking thick. They are stupid. They eat poo - seriously, they eat poo and the darker coloured the dog, the more they love eating shit. Not even just their own. It's true!"

We watched the classes with interest (and slight perturbedness when the vet who was compering the event kept talking about how good looking the dogs were in a slightly breathless and eager way), cheering the winners and telling our favourite dog owners that they "were robbed" when they didn't get placed. One of the highlights of the day was during the 'Me and My Best Friend' class where children entered with their pooches for the judging panel to assess who had the best bond. The class had to be stopped part way through as an overexcited entrant pulled it's teeny child guardian across the ring. On it's face. There were tears. (Admittedly ours as we giggled.)

After we all fell in love with an adorable Lhasa-Poo puppy called Huxley, and we tried to figure out if we could fit it in anyone's bag, we wandered down to Shoreditch for some afternoon refreshments. The German played a classic in the 'language barrier' game she likes to throw down on the odd occasion.

The German: "So when are you moving house?"

The Pin Up: "A week on Monday."

The German: "On Monday?"

The Pin Up: "No, a week on Monday."

The German: "On Monday?"

The Pin Up: "No.... a week from Monday."

The German: "No, but I mean, you're moving house on a Monday?"

The Pin Up: "....yes."

Me: "You could have saved yourself a good five minutes of conversational cul-de-sac had you just used the 'a' before Monday."

Sometimes it's our duty to educate her. We then, her English boyfriend included, convinced her that the correct English pronunciation of 'maths' was actually 'marrrrrrths', as we worked out the bill. We are good friends to her.

Goodbye 2009, now f*ck off because here's 2010

I wasn't planning on doing much on New Year's Eve. It's always a bit of an anticlimax isn't it? Last year I'd had a wonderful evening in Canterbury with good friends, and someone I thought I'd be seeing this year in with too. This wasn't to be and I was inevitably facing a New Year where I'd be running the comparisons through my head and feeling a little bit sad.

Plus, going out on NYE is always expensive, too busy and then there's the arse ache of getting home. I'd made loose plans to have a few people over, then during a very drunken evening round my oldest school friend's flat over Christmas back home, we hatched a plan for her to come down and spend it with me.

Thursday morning, Animal Girl and KiteBoy arrived outside my flat and I ran down excitedly to meet them. The car boot was opened to show enough stuff for a family of 6 for a week away. I pulled a case out of the car. Animal Girl commented,

"That's my makeup." I laughed, thinking she was joking. When the two of them had unpacked in my room and covered it in their stuff, it became clear that she did indeed have a separate suitcase for makeup.

We spent the day wandering through Shoreditch, Columbia Road, Brick Lane and Spitalfields and had a drink in Tracey Emin's local, The Golden Heart. I introduced Animal Girl to the wonders of the vintage shops in Brick Lane and made a resolution to get skinny enough to fit into a chic vintage dress this year.

So the plan for the evening was to just enjoy a civilised evening in, I'd cook something nice for dinner and we'd watch Jools Holland and pop some champagne at midnight. We watched the ITV drama 'Sleep With Me' which is based on one of my favourite books; it was a bit of a let down with some er, strange sex scenes.

We were all quite happy lounging around in our casual gear, but Animal Girl insisted on getting changed into a mini dress and 6 inch heels to see in the New Year. On my sofa.

Since the drinking had began around 3pm, we'd been careful to pace ourselves. Animal Girl had brought down Chinese lanterns to set off at midnight to float into the sky with our wishes for 2010. At five to midnight, the order was issued to get the Taittinger from the fridge and get the lantern lit. We excitedly switched to the live coverage from by the Thames to hear the Big Ben countdown. (Just a small side note, why on earth was Mylene Klass chosen to present that? She was atrocious.)

"Quick, get the lantern lit!" squealed Animal Girl. I prepped the bottle of champagne, poised over the balcony.

"Five, four, three, two, one, HAPPY NEW YEAAAAAARRRR!" we yelled out into the East London ether, as the champagne exploded over the neighbours' balconies below (sorry about that) and fireworks began to pop and crackle over the sky. We hugged and whooped and toasted what was sure to be a better year than last.

KiteBoy lit the firelighter in the lantern. They're much bigger than you think, aren't they? He kept it inside the flat to ensure it caught light properly, then took it out on to the balcony. Unfortunately, my balcony overlooks an enclosed courtyard so the wind gets caught in a trap of buildings. He held it, flapping over the balcony, about to let it go.

Me, worriedly: "Are you sure this won't float into my neighbours' balconies...?!"

Animal Girl: "No, Kite Boy let it go!! It's got all our hopes and dreams in!" (We were champagne drunk by this point)

The wind whipped the now raging firelighter encased in paper and the paper inevitably caught fire. We all yelled "Nooooooo!" KiteBoy was forced to drop the fire onto the dry wooden balcony floor for fear of burning his hands. (Or dropping his beer, priorities.)

Me, shrieking to Animal Girl who was just inside the doorway: "Get some water! GET SOME WATER!!"

Animal Girl totters out with half a tiny wine glass of water.

Luckily, this did actually do the job and our hopes and dreams lay fizzing and smoking on the balcony, a pile of half burned, soggy paper. Let's hope that this does not set the tone for the year and become a sad realisation of a metaphor.

However, something magical did happen. Just after we'd yelled our "Happy New Years!" the snow began to fall over East London, fat white flakes settling on my black cardigan. We grinned at each other and drank more champagne.

We spent the remainder of the evening watching Jools Holland and debating Florence & The Machine (Animal Girl hates her with a real passion, inexplicably.) We then enjoyed the 2009 highlights of Glasto and had more fizz when No'rn Ir'on came home from her Medieval Banquet evening (apparently, in a word, "shite.")

The Glasto coverage finished with Blur wowing the crowds with The Universal. Animal Girl and I came together as friends at 12, united by our love for 90s Indie, mainly the magnificent Blur. We've seen them together a few times, including their epic Hyde Park gig last summer. We ended the night singing The Universal at the top of our lungs and dancing to the live compilation of their perfomances over a decade.

What a way to end the year and see in a new one.

This is the next century
Where the universal's free
You can find it anywhere
Yes, the future has been sold
Every night we're gone
And to karaoke songs
How we like to sing a long
Although the words are wrong

It really, really, really could happen
Yes, it really, really, really could happen
When the days they seem to fall through you, well just let them go

No one here is alone, satellites in every home
Yes the universal's here, here for everyone
Every paper that you read
Says tomorrow is your lucky day
Well, here's your lucky day

It really, really, really could happen
Yes, it really, really, really could happen
When the days they seem to fall through you, well just let them go

Well, it really, really, really could happen
Yes, it really, really, really could happen
When the days they seem to fall through you, well just let them go

Just let them go

Animal Girl got put to bed by Kite Boy. Seeing as were all wrecked by this point, he wanted to put something by the bed in case she was poorly in the night. Rather than getting something from the kitchen he inexplicably chose the plantpot from the balcony which had been outside for 6 months and contained some manky soil and some rotting leaves.

She woke up in 2010 next to a fuschia pink plant pot; wondering just how drunk she'd been since she apparently had thrown up mud in the night.

Commuter Sightseeing 2

Another day, another random work commute... London never ceases to amaze me. I now expect the unexpected most days.

This morning, Nor'n Ir'on and I left the house as usual, not quite awake, ready to stick the iPod in to lose myself in another journey.

But this morning brought a sobering sight; informed there'd been some sort of traffic-stopping incident, we plodded from the bus stop towards the City to rejoin the rat race in Shoreditch.

Then we saw it. Awkwardly splayed across the middle of the road, was a crushed car, with its roof chopped off and flung carelessly onto the pavement. Our street suddenly felt like a film set- police parked haphazardly across the traffic route, the midsection of the road and pavements cordoned off with incident tape, commuters hurrying down the road on foot.

We joined the throng of people walking frantically from the East End, I was lost in my thoughts as you are when you see a sad scene of destruction.

Strangely though, for a fleeting minute, there was a sense of community. People passing messages down to the next bus stop that there'd be no buses running this morning. Sharing a few words and a smile with the girl with the lipring, and the academic looking man sporting a fetching suit and well-tailored jacket.

After a stroll, we reached the bustle of Shoreditch with traffic humming and beeping as usual. Yet on the way to the next bus, we saw further odd sights.

A pile of vintage shoes arranged artfully on the pavement, for no apparent reason. A racing bike installation, sprayed matte white and chained to a City lamppost.

A sad but somehow comedic sight of a binman swigging Stella pre 8am. A plush velvet 4 seater sofa abandoned on the pavement.

Finally on the bus, we're met with the sight of a slightly scary big bald guy, dressed in punky S&M black, with chains and rings and matrix style sunglasses. Suddenly, interrupting my thoughts of 'God, this bus is like a sauna', he recognises the man stood next to me and unleashes a camp greeting with air kisses, and flirts all the way to Clerkenwell. Certainly wasn't expecting that.

So, off the bus and heading to get overpriced coffee to jumpstart our sluggish minds for the day ahead- then I see a woman wearing purple fluffy boot slippers. As you do.

Something of an eventful journey. And all before 8:15am.

I feel sorry for the subterranean tube goers, missing out on the sights of overground London. I'm going to start carrying my camera round all the time.


-- Post From My iPhone