My big day out! (part 3 of 3 unless I do a Director's Cut) - The Main Event

Welcome to the next thrilling instalment of my adventures in London with my glamourous sidekick, Keira Husky. You may like to familiarise yourselves with our railway journey (where we nearly got gassed to death on the tube) and our expedition across tower bridge (where we nearly got drowned to death my sea monsters). In summary, against all the odds, we had somehow made our way to the Design Museum in one piece...


We were directed up toward the '1.5 gallery', where the photography exhibition was taking place. I'm not sure if that's pronounced the 'one point five gallery', the 'one and a half gallery', the 'three divided by two gallery' or what. But it's obviously very cool and sophisticated. 

After being greeted by several ladies with clipboards who checked off our names in triplicate, we were offered a choice of drinks. Alas they had no Guinness or beer, so it was champagne for Keira and fruit juice for myself.

I was then taken over to where my picture was displayed and had my photograph taken with it by the official event photographer. For the first time in his career, he had encountered someone who blinked every single time he used his flash.

After the seventh failed attempt, we agreed that a higher ISO setting might have to be used instead of the flash. I was hoping that the extra grain this might bring to the image, may help hide the sweat and raindrops that were still nestling on my ample forehead. The dress code for the event was 'smart / casual', but at that point I was more 'clammy pile of shit'.

We were then asked to go around and vote for our favourite picture in each of the categories. Although this seemed straightforward enough, my admin assistant Keira Husky, found it more challenging than I had hoped. There was quite a bit of crossing out in order for our chosen photograph titles to actually end up in the right section of the voting slip. I now see why champagne is not available in office drinks machines.

One of the highlights of the night for me was that a string of attractive young waitresses (and one Korean dude) would come around with platefuls of unidentified, but very tasty, posh nosh. Suddenly, the whole concept of pretentious ponciness which once repulsed me, seemed bloody fantastic! Looking at nice pictures with a limitless supply of drink and tasty food, all whilst overlooking a beautiful part of London, was a wonderful way to spend one's time.

After doing some mingling, eating, sitting, drinking and more eating, I suddenly heard a very familiar voice. Had someone switched the radio on? No! Reggie Yates was actually in the room! He was looking very cool and dapper. Well almost. There was one exception to his attire that just didn't seem to fit in with the rest of his look - he was wearing slippers.

Now, as regular readers of my twitter feed will know, I recently bought a new pair of slippers myself and have really fallen in love with just how comfortable they are (non twitter folk, if hearing that you're missing out on that kind of insight into my life doesn't make you want to join up and follow me, I don't know what will). But really? Slippers? Smart / casual? This event wasn't like popping over the road for a paper and some milk.

What really completed this look was the fact that they had a skull and crossbones on. I would have loved some of these...when I was six! *bitch face*

So, despite that fact that he was wearing little boy slippers which, to my mind didn't really go with the rest of his look (bear in mind that I'm an avid viewer of Britain and Ireland's Next Top Model, so I think I know a little bit about style), the first thing I said to him when I had the chance was, "Hi Reggie, great to meet you. I LOVE your shoes!". Honestly, I can be so two faced.

Slippers aside, Reggie was an absolutely lovely guy. No doubt he was being paid to be there and mingle with us all, but he couldn't have been more friendly or patient. Keira and I had a really good chat with him and he seemed a genuinely decent chap. I would like to be his mate and hang out with him (especially when he goes shoe shopping - I could have helped him out there).

The other guest of honour in attendance, was Girls Aloud singer Sarah Harding. She was completely different to Reggie. She spent the whole night following me around, telling me how good my photograph was and touching my knee whilst whispering things things like, "I've got a feeling Tower Bridge won't be the only thing going up tonight".

I felt bad that the other guests weren't having much of a chance to speak with her and eventually, when she had got in between me and the tasty food once too often, she was asked to leave. It was horrible to see her cry like that, but it was for the best - if we were together, it would only have been a matter of time before she introduced me to the other members of Girls Aloud and, unless she was willing to share me, her heart would have gone through even more pain.

As the evening went on and the champagne flowed, the occasion grew louder and louder. Keira was kindly drinking my share of the fizz (and also that of the twelve guests who hadn't been able to make it). There was a really nice atmosphere and it was a great experience to be able to chat to the other entrants who were refreshingly normal.



My previous experience that people from the north of England and most of Wales are the friendliest in the country, was proved once again, although Keira and I did our bit as ambassadors for the south. In fact, one of the Welsh guys there was especially friendly towards Keira and would have been that extra special kind of friendly given half a chance. Luckily having spent too much time hanging around with me, she's fairly used to batting away unwanted male attention and managed to escape unscathed.

The only downside of the night (aside from them not serving Guinness) was that we were desperately missing the third member of our Terrific Trio, Jessington Cupcake. Despite my best efforts at wangling a plus two, she gracefully stepped aside to let Keira enjoy the day. We both resolved that we would visit London again soon, but this time with Jess firmly in tow. Plus, Ms Cupcake also gets the consolation prize of an all expenses paid lunch (up to the value of £15, terms and conditions apply, no cash equivalent shall be given) with me.

At twenty minutes past the time that the event should have closed, they started to turn the lights out and a few minutes after that, actually booted us back down the stairs. It had been an amazing evening and the four and a bit hours we'd been there had flown by.

One question now remained; what shall we do with the drunken Keira? Actually, she was probably 'really quite tipsy' rather than 'blind drunk' but the journey back towards the tube station was very entertaining. Our mood was jolly and buoyant, and this made Keira decide to try and make fiends with as many random strangers as possible.

Thankfully, London is full of weirdos on a Friday night who responded to this quite well and took her in as one of their own.

On one occasion I had to restrain her from approaching a gang of feral looking youths with caps on at jaunty angles, which thankfully she thought better of. The only other restraint I urged her to show was when we were passing a fresh faced young policeman. Although that encounter passed off peacefully, she did manage to blurt out, "What are you, 12?" as we passed by.

Whilst we waited for Tower Bridge to return to its flaccid state after having been raised, I noticed that there were round floodlights set into the pavement which were shining brightly. But then I wondered, whether these may actually be teleport pads to get us across to the other side whilst the bridge wasn't available. I stood on one to try it out and even made teleport noises, but unfortunately, it appears that it was just a spotlight after all (unless it was faulty I suppose). I don't even have champagne to blame for this incident, although I guess I had been passively drinking Keira's all night.

One of my long standing memories of this night will be Keira stood by the automatic barriers at Waterloo underground station, waving her crumpled ticket in the air, saying "I need assistance!". It would seem that she wasn't the only one affected by the fizz and her ticket was too far over the limit to be of use any longer.

Thankfully the train back to Salisbury was far quieter than the one we had arrived on. The only incident of note was when a young couple started canoodling. The woman was being cradled in this guy’s arms like a baby. Then they started kissing. But wait, what’s going on? That’s not kissing. He’s actually sucking on her nose. Her nose! I nearly called the guard to stop such peculiarity, but they soon got off (the train, not the other way, at least so far as I could tell).

For the remainder of the journey home, we reminisced and laughed together about the evening we had just experienced, both unable to put into words quite how much we had enjoyed it. Despite having been on my best behaviour for most of the day, my mischievous (or 'dickish' side) did rear its cheeky head as I found myself hiding Keira's purse whilst she slept. I still don’t think she’s noticed the £20 that’s missing.
  

My big day out! Part 1 of 2 (but could be 3, who knows?) - The Journey

Last night I was walking across Tower Bridge when, like an over excited teenager in gym class, it suddenly started to rise. I actually felt quite emotional, such was the spectacular sight of road and pavement soaring gracefully into the air, when just minutes before, pedestrians and traffic and been trundling over it. It was a marvellous feat of engineering to witness.


They say that if you're on Tower Bridge at the moment it is raised, you should make a wish as it will surely come true. I might have wished to have one of the best evenings of my life ever, if I hadn't already just had it. So instead, I wished to be on the other other side of the bridge and just minutes later, I was! If that's not proof enough for you sceptics who don't believe in such miracles, I don't know what is.

But let's take a step back, before all of the merriment, to the start of the day. My feelings then were very different. I was a mixture of nerves, excitement, apprehension and wonder. I was headed to London to attend a private viewing of an exhibition where one of my photographs was being displayed.

I wrote a post about this a few weeks ago, so you might like to check it out here out before continuing. Although that might be a bit of an effort, so in summary, I entered a competition organised by Pentax and my photo was shortlisted as a winner. An exhibition of mine and 29 other pictures were on display at the Design Museum, which is situated close to the aforementioned magical bridge in London. As well as the photographers, guests, PR people and Pentax representatives, the event would also be attended by Radio 1 DJ and all round cool hipster Reggie Yates and Girls Aloud performer Sarah Harding.

Having never been to anything like this before, I had no idea what to expect and whether it would be my cup of tea. I'm really not a fan of 'poncey' and was concerned that this could be an occasion full of trendy folks looking for the deeper meaning and symbolism behind a photograph of a fried breakfast.

One comforting fact was that I wouldn't be facing this ordeal alone. It had been such a difficult decision of which of my two best friends, Jessington Cupcake or Keira Husky, was to be my plus one (more details about them can be found in this earlier post).

Being mature adults, they settled this amicably between themselves by engaging in a series of hair pulling, scratching and all round fighting that would have put the Hunger Games to shame. It was Keira Husky who finally proved victorious and would be my companion for the afternoon. In a state of giddy excitement, we set off on a lunchtime train to London!

I'd never traveled at this time before, and expected it to be really quiet. Surely a Friday afternoon would see people trying to escape the capital for the weekend, not heading towards it. With this mindset, I graciously let an old man with a walking stick onto the train ahead of us. After initially hobbling, he suddenly showed a great turn of speed to grab the only free seat within sight.

Thankfully, much further on down the carriage we managed to find the last vacant seats on the train. It was a group of four with a table and we were quickly joined by what turned out to be a journalist and a mad woman who kept talking to herself and sniggering whilst playing games on her phone. A journey on public transport just wouldn't be the same without the company of a lunatic!

The train was rammed full, with many people standing for the entire journey. The drink and snacks trolley couldn't move because of the congested gangway and was stuck right by us. I was tempted to pinch a packet of biscuits that were winking at me, but to do so, I would have had to lean across the giggling mad woman and was worried she might bite me.

It's a good job I didn't need the toilet because there was no way of making it through the crowd. If I'd had to go, things would have got very messy. Although me soiling myself may well have delighted Mrs Mental as she'd probably have thought she'd finally found her equally troubled soul mate.

The weather deteriorated, and as we arrived in London, it was horribly wet and windy. I hoped it might ease off by the time we left cover, which was still some time off as we had to go subterranean and head towards Tower Hill tube station.

Our underground journey was complicated by a fire at Embankment which meant no trains would stop there. So instead we had to head in the opposite diretion to Westminster before resuming our journey east. I was pleased that I'd built in some contingency time into our journey to allow for such an occurrence.

What I hadn't planned for was our experience on the District line. The tube train was mainly packed but we spotted one carriage that was nearly empty. Thrilled at being able to sit down and not being put in that awkward situation where there is mass personal space invasion as you practically climb aboard the shoulders of your fellow travellers, we gleefully hopped on and sunk into our seats.

About two seconds later, it became apparent just why this carriage was empty. An ample Indian gentleman was sat a few seats up from us. He seemed very relaxed and had his arms spread out across the top of the two seats next to him. This had the unfortunate side affect of sharing what can only be described as his 'gargantuan stink' with the rest of us. Boy oh boy it was awful. His body still seemed to be trying to sweat out a hearty meal he'd eaten several years previously.

Now, being one myself, I'm fairly used to dealing with the odour generated by smelly old men. Dear Keira however was finding it increasing difficult not to gag. At first I thought she was joking, but the stench combined with the rocking motion of the train started to make her genuinely look like she was going to be ill. So, despite being a very un-British thing to do, we headed up the carriage away from this filthy behemoth, trying to take emergency breaths of deodorant and aftershave from the cleaner passengers along the way.

We finally arrived at Tower Hill, but was then engulfed by a sea of foreign students, whom it would appear had not come to see the Tower of London, but instead found it more entertaining to congregate in large numbers on the staircase and in front of the exit to the station.

With sharp elbows, we bowled through this loud, unruly group and finally broke free of cover, out into the fresh air! But suddenly we were faced with an even more almighty enemy than the bubble gum chewing, gibber jabbering Italian kids. The weather was even worse than when we had first arrived...

Would we make it to our destination? Or would we...no wait, you know that we obviously do make it because of the introduction to this post. But it was bloody hard! Tune in to part two to find out how we somehow managed to survive a howling gale and the adventures we had once at the exhibition.  

Exhibitionist

I must admit that I've never really been a huge fan of photographic competitions. The whole concept that one lovely picture can be adjudged better than another lovely picture is a bit daft when you think about it. It's a very subjective process and it's really down to what particular image resonates with you as an individual. I've seen what I would describe as some pretty ropey photos winning prizes, whilst excellent ones fall by the wayside.

Even so, I have entered some of my own photos in competitions this year. If it's free to enter and there's a chance of winning a new camera or some vouchers, it would seem a bit silly not to have a go. But I've learned not get my hopes up too much - there are lots of people who enter with some really great images. It's really just a bit of fun and win or lose, it isn't a genuine indication of one's photographic ability.

At least that's what I thought until this afternoon when I had an email telling me one of my pictures which I had entered in a competition run by Pentax, was going to be exhibited at the Design Museum in London.

Suddenly competitions are brilliant things and I'm a fucking amazing photographer *struts round living room*.

Okay, obviously I'm deliberately being a bit over the top about it all. But I am genuinely thrilled that one of my photographs is to be exhibited at a pretty cool location. Plus I get an invite to a private viewing of the exhibition that will also be attended by TV and radio presenter Reggie Yates and Girls Aloud girl and actress, Sarah Harding. Exciting and a bit surreal!

I'm pleased that the photograph to be displayed is one of favourites from this summer:


Although Michael Johnson is an Olympic and Athletics legend, the little girl holding the torch really was the star of that morning's London 2012 event. During the performances by her choir, she was doing funky dance moves and pulling faces, always playing up for the camera. There was such a lovely happy and unified atmosphere at the event and I came away with a handful of photos that I was really pleased with, as well as a beaming smile and warm heart.

The thing I most like about all of this is that the picture is of one of my genuinely treasured memories. So for it to be put on public display and hopefully also enjoyed by other people too, is really special.

Now all I have to do is arrange my plus one for the viewing. A pimp like myself really need a plus three or four though, such is my immense popularity and need of an entourage. Who do I take? Maybe I should arrange a series of trials to decide this. These will mainly involve cake baking and a massage of my sore shoulders.

Although in actuality, I'll probably have to scrabble around and pay someone by the hour to come with me.