Monos

Eating and drinking in the neighbourhood that is, in the immortal words of bails, so far up its own posterior. The bar of choice being the exclusive members only drinking hole Mono. Full of Crouch End yuppies - young eligible men and women (women attempting to portray upper class whore, men are aiming for media type urbane) who flit from group to group - everyone knows each other, mobiles ringing off the hook, squealy ooh factor, mauw mauwing over the cocktails. Excited babble. Pretentious? Never.

So after swanking about in the pretentious Mono in order to cross to the other side of the railway tracks back to where I live Bails and I bussed to Wood Green. Sitting chatting at the N29 bus stop outside Hollywood Green a completely different side of life passed us by. At one time Wood Green had no bars of any sort and suddenly they got three - Yates, Chicago Rock Garden and Weatherspoons. What a great combination. Chucking out time - several hen parties, lots of drunkeness, skirts so short you could see the girl's bum cheeks hanging out (minis and thongs - nice). Group thrown out of Chicago's half men, half women some kind of incident worked their way into fighting talk. One man removed his leather, and preceded to get extremely worked up until the police stopped and rushed in to calm it all down. Girl friends fighting amongst themselves about men. Arguments on the street. At least the street drinkers had all gone home (my first day at current job I was talking to AA about the drunks in Finsbury Park and was told in no uncertain terms that we don't call them that anymore they are street drinkers - so I remember this lesson always).

Good nights on all sides of the railway tracks. Gnight.