I'm still in London - in my blog anyway. This photo is from Trafalgar Square, where I sat in the sun for an hour and a half with my caffe latte and a magazine in March 2012, in more than 20 plus - London was experiencing an "Indian Summer" on the spring side of summer (is there a term for that)? Why was I sitting on the steps in Trafalgar Square, apart from the fact that it was glorious and I had to pinch my arm because I was enjoying it so much? I was waiting for my entry time to the National Portrait Gallery to see the Lucian Freud Exhibition that I wrote about in my post the other day.
They give you a time to enter the exhibition because they have to spread the visitors.
When my watch showed 10 minutes before entry time, I started off, and suddenly a guy crossed my path, saying "sorry love", as all English do. "Sorry" and "please", constantly! I love it! I am reading an interesting sociological study about this at the moment by the way: "Watching the English" by Kate Fox. She walks around London deliberately bumping into people to see if they apologise! They do!!
All I did was smile at him in response - and that did it. A cue for him to pick me up - and I'm OLD! Well, he wasn't exactly young either, I'll admit that. "Where's that lovely smile from?" he asked, and I wasn't going to be rude, so I replied.
Judge for yourself if this smile is lovely or not
Anyway - long story and conversation short - I was glad I had my entry time to the National Portrait Gallery to keep. He wanted to wait for me, but he was also sweet and discreet and smart enough to know not to push it. But what a boost - Big Mamas can attract attention, actually! Don't you other Big Mamas out there ever forget that!
Sitting alone in your hotel room on a Saturday night in London is not much fun (especially bearing in mind I was nearly picked up...), so I reserved a table at Jazz After Dark in Soho, where I'd been before with my husband. That time we saw Trench City:
(Jazz After Dark used to be Amy Winehouse's haunt, something which they are very proud of, so the whole place bears memories of her).
It was fun, great, cool - and we danced all night to Trench City's reggae in the narrow aisle! When I started dancing with a group of youngsters my husband sent me outside in Greek Street to cool off. Well, all I can say is that he's pretty confident he's already got me picked up!
The Andy McKay Jazz Quartet
So - after this little digression - not wanting to stay in my hotel room alone, I hailed a taxi from Piccadilly to Greek Street. As usual the driver and I got talking, and I asked him if he thought I'd be safe stumbling out of a club in Soho at around 2 am. He said "I'd fetch you tonight, love, but I'm not working. But call me if you have trouble finding a taxi." That dear old man! (About my age...)
And then I went to Jazz After Dark alone - not scary at all - I was greeted like a queen, placed at a table next to the stage, and immediately Andy McKay asked me to look after his sax before the gig started. Yeess! I became a groupie there and then. Andy and I talked all night. Am I exaggerating now? Well, all groupies do.
Big Mama alone in hotel room in London, contemplating the groupie experience
You remember Johnny Cash back when we were 15 or so? Hey Girls :-))))
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