London on a Monday Night

There have been many times where I have marveled at the spontaneity of a night. If you count all of the nights out I've ever been on, (obviously... A fair few!), very few can stack up to what just happened to be one of the most enjoyable nights of my life. In London. On a Monday.

It's been a whirlwind few days. Walking home from work on Friday, Valentine's Day, I had a smile on my face as the anticipation of another weekend socialising, spending time with friends old and new and dancing away was on the cards. I was hugely looking forward to it. The weather was absolutely atrocious, and despite that putting a lot of people off, it wasn't going to dampen our spirits, (excuse the alcohol-related pun). We spent the majority of the time in our flat, away from the hurricane force winds and driving rain, drinking, laughing, having fun, dancing around. It was just marvellous. Sure, there were only a few of us, but a weekend having fun always brings an unimaginable smile to my face. It was gone midnight by the time we went out, all fantastically merry if a little damp as we ran from the taxi into our usual weekend haunt. It was at this point where events get a bit blurry, and no... It wasn't the alcohol doing that...

I won't elaborate as to exactly what went on, but in short I was headbutted and ended the night with a bust nose, a fat lip and a face that looked like it had gone through 12 rounds with a particularly irate Tyson Fury. It was gone 6am by the time police left my flat and left me, stunned and broken in my own bedroom. I didn't sleep well that morning, only getting a few hours sleep before giving up entirely and heading into town, feeling particularly self-conscious. It wasn't entirely how I'd imagined my Friday night to pan out, but an experience none the less.

I didn't go out on Saturday night. For the first time in a long, long time I was more than happy to stay in with a blanket and the remote. It was a great choice as my favourite film, 'Inglorious Basterds' was on Channel 4 and I could stay away from what was going to be an enquiring crowd out in town. Waking up on Sunday hangoverless felt good as well.

Sunday was particularly uneventful, unless you count a disappointing indoor cricket performance, and then we were at the beginning of another week. I was actually fairly glad to see Monday morning. The anticipation on Friday was obviously replaced by one of firstly pain and then an insipid mood. Monday was going fairly averagely, until the system decided to crash 15 minutes before the close of play. Without going into boring banking details, it took me 2 and a half hours to get out of the place, by which time I was starving, running late to a cricket event I was supposed to be attending, and wondering when the bad luck was going to end. How many mirrors had I broken? What had I done to deserve these past few days? When was it going to finish?

At the end of the cricket roadshow event, at roughly 9pm, I decided to drop by The Mow. It was owner Jake's 4th anniversary of owning the place, and bearing in mind I have spent the vast majority of my weekends in the place, I felt it was right and proper to drop by and have a few drinks and a toast to a great venue. I was quite tired, worn out by the extremes of the day and indeed the weekend, so I wasn't going to stay long... He said...

When I got there, I was a little quiet. A few people asked me if I was alright, enquiring into the events of the weekend which I didn't like very much at all. I hate people making a fuss over me, much preferring to bury events deep in the sand and ignore them until they've gone away. In my mind, the events of the weekend had been dealt with. I know people were only being polite, but I would have much rathered people just got on with the here and now. Jake and his staff were already a few drinks down, celebrating a brilliant milestone and the karaoke was in full swing. I had my customary Jack Daniels, but also discovered a new drink. Bacardi Oakheart. It was wonderful. My brief repertoire of desired drinks has now increased! However, I was still planning to go home pretty early, despite starting to buy a few more drinks and loosen up a bit. It was a Monday night after all. There can't be many parties going on on a Monday night.

"Tom, coming to London tonight?"

Jake had appeared from the group of people he was entertaining, with a smile and an enquiry. At first I thought he was joking and brushed his question aside, walking outside to meet Abigail. Upon walking into the small outside enclosure, she asked me if I had been asked about London. I said yes, but I'm sure he wasn't being serious.

"Oh, he's serious." said another punter who I get along pretty well with. "Nights out with Jake are notorious for being extremely messy. I once asked him for water because I was dying and he gave me straight vodka."

Well... I didn't have work on Tuesday until 1pm. It could be possible. Abigail didn't. She had work at 9am. I wasn't going to go if she wasn't but she seemed tempted aswell. It was at this point I had a brainwave. I'd had a fairly crap few days. Friday's fracas, Saturday's shock, Sunday's solemnity followed by Monday's madness meant I could have done with letting my hair down a little bit...

"I'm in!"

It was 1am by the time we left. I had gone home to change out of my work clothes into something a bit more jazzy, and by the time we clambered into the taxi, (Yes... I know...), I was incredibly excited. We were on our way. Our destination was Charing Cross, and 'Heaven'. Considered to be one of the world's largest gay clubs, Heaven is downright madness. I was extremely unsure of what to expect from it on a Monday night, but forgot that this wasn't Bedford. This was London. LDN. One of the most vibrant cities in the world.

We were all near sober by the time we got there, at about 2:15am. I was still trying to get my head around what we were actually doing, as we joined the back of the queue to get in. Jake's face dropped.

"If this is the back of the queue, we've got at least an hour wait."

Oh dear. Surely they'd stop letting people in soon? Was all this spontaneity and excitement going to be worthless? I was pretty cold, as the alcohol had worn off slightly and I was only wearing a purple t-shirt. We waited, and waited. We even contemplated going elsewhere, as there was a man advertising a party in Vauxhall that was going on until midday. How anyone can even think about partying on Monday night until Tuesday lunchtime is mad! We even tried to eavesdrop on conversations, attempting to find out about any other events, before realising the variety of languages stood in that queue was vast. This venue was international. People travel miles for a night out in Heaven. The sign in the queue outlined that the venue was reserved for VIP's and special guests on Saturday nights. That's how big this venue is. And I hoped beyond all hope that I would be able to experience it.

Despite a few fleeting thoughts otherwise, it was soon obvious that we would be fine. Unlike other venues in the country, Heaven has no last entry time. It was 3:30am when we walked in. By the time we got through the main entrance, we walked the walk through to the main dancefloor. And I have just one word...

Wow.

It was massive. And when I say massive, I mean it must have held a couple of thousand of people. Full to the brim with people dancing, strobe lights, jumping music. I was then told this was the first of multiple rooms. We went sideways first though, into a smaller but equally vibrant room and had a few drinks, danced to some cheesy music and started out on the delayed yet wonderfully camp night. Soon though, we were ushered into the main room and this is when the party truly started. Standing on the upper deck of the room, looking down, it was a sight and a half. I even took a picture for memories sake. After a few more drinks, I was leading the way to the middle of said dance floor. I wasn't missing out on this. A couple of the others didn't like the music, but house music, especially when I'm drunk, is one of my guilty pleasures. We wanted to get right into the mix, so walked past party-goers who were dressed in a vast array of outfits. I say "dressed", there were indeed some who were barely dressed at all. It was a case of anything goes, and it dawned on me that this was a Monday night. London, you rock.

For a couple of hours, it was... I can only describe it as a camp rave. The DJ, hoisted high on the stage behind mountainous decks, was mixing a weird yet wonderful cocktail of music and it was just brilliant. I have no other superlatives for this place. The fact that I didn't feel at all guilty for deserting my sensible side, (Some of you may say differently, but compared to a few of the people I was with, I am genuinely innocent!), made it all the more better. Monday night, (and Tuesday morning, after we got in at 7:30am!) after a bad weekend, goes down as one of the most memorable nights of my life, for sure.

I was tired on Tuesday, but I still had a smile plastered across my face for the entirety of my short afternoon stint. I do hope to go back one day, maybe a bit earlier so we don't get caught out in the monstrous queues, but certainly one day. I'm heading to Vauxhall in a month or so, (no, not for the midday party!) so another camp London experience is on the horizon.

Monday night sure was heaven.