Petersfield
I’ve just come back from visiting Kevin Hopkins, who was best man at our wedding. He lives in Petersfield but we also spent time at his parents’ place in Andover. Had a great barbeque there yesterday and Sunday roast (lamb) today, with watching the All Blacks devour Ireland 40-8 and a visit to some of Petersfield’s hotspots (Folly’s, Vertigo) in between.
Vertigo is scarily like Flicks in Andover — in terms of clientele, music policy and even the club’s layout. I’ve never heard so many old tunes played at +8! There were a few crimes against DJing committed, but — hey! — it’s not London or anything: what do you expect?
It was a bit of a late night — 2.15 am back to Kev’s flat, then watched TV until about 3.30. I couldn’t do it very often — I’m knackered now. We nearly didn’t get into the club because the bouncers were being — how shall I put this politely? — obstructive. We had to go away and come back with passports (!) or driving licences to prove where we were from, even though passports don’t have your address on. The evening was coloured for me by my sore throat and aching shoulder — too many late nights and too much sitting at a computer ;-)