After returning from my trip, I came down with a severe sinus infection. A bummer, but it also gave my liver and kidney’s a chance to heal. The Splendid Brits threw a cocktail party the day before Easter and introduced me to a couple cocktails that haunt me still (albeit in a really good way).
Evidently, one cannot buy the original bison grass vodka in the US due to stupid FDA rules. We can only buy some watered down/less poisonous version, which really takes all the fun out of it! Fortunately, I have the champagne-cognac cocktail to fall back on.
So, the above photo was taken a couple hours into the cocktail party. You can tell by my inability to focus and the fact that my immaculately applied eyeliner has begun to fade. I am flanked by my host and new friends.
The blonde on the right was wonderfully funny and we were in utter sync that night. I remember thinking that if I could get her brother to marry me then I could stay in the country and get to hang out with her always! Ah yes, the delusions of drink. At one point a couple of us were discussing singlehood, and the inevitable point of not wanting to die alone came up, to which the wee fun blonde blithely said, “Well, if you really think about it, we all die alone.” Excellent point. Less focus on dating: more focus on drinking/fun.
The other wee blonde, in the vintage dress, may be descended from nobility via a lord’s liaison with a downstairs maid. Accordingly, she was referred to as Lady Percy by the Beau. Lady Percy is working on a couple books – one on ghosts and another on the history of sleep. She was targeted by a particularly savage and ill seagull while we were in Whitby but handled it with aplomb. I’m pretty sure I would have been sick all over myself if I had been the target.
In any case, the highlight of this party (for me) was when I revealed my age to some partygoers to their absolute shock. I was guessed to be about 6-8 years younger, and now am thinking about changing my age on my online dating profiles as a result (kidding – although a friend who is older has done this and I have chided her for it!). One attendee asserted that I must bathe in the blood of virgins. I assured him that I did not, preferring the slightly less expensive/violent method of seeing a dermatologist regularly and wearing sunscreen. This shy man came uncomfortably close to having a very tipsy Yank throw herself at him. Fortunately, drinks continued to be pressed into my hand and then the party took a dangerous turn when somebody discovered a bottle of grenadine and began various experiments (sometimes with dire results).
Did I mention that they were very fond of margaritas there? Did I mention the meal at the Mexican Yorkshire restaurant? So, Mexican is popular there – not as much as curry but it isn’t like they have as many Mexicans over there to help sort out the cuisine situation. In any case, I got to experience the Yorkshire version of Mexican one night. Here are my observations:
Music – Europop instead of Mariachi/Salsa – this was unsettling. I’m also not used to non-latinos taking my order.
Decor – half of the place was right, but the Spaghetti Western posters were wrong.
Food – no free salsa and chips! For the love of Maria, Jose, y Bebe Christo! Instead, they had these little pots of spicy peanuts on the tables. Against my friends’ recommendation for the burrito, I went with the chicken enchilada. It was pretty dry and came only with beans. The burritos seemed superior and came only with rice. It was a surreal experience.