The 5th avenue in Hell

Dear Diary,

Thursday was fantastic. Thursday was the day of my 2nd Sign language exam - or Unit 2 as it's supposed to be called. Trouble is, last week, Sandra (the tutor's translator - pretty useless since she's only on Level 2) took me aside and told me that since I hadn't paid for the exam yet (or the remaining £80 of my fees) I wasn't allowed to take it. Furiously, I decided to show up anyway, just to pay some money and at least get some practice in. Turns out both Joe and another student were paying for their exams on the days, and THEY hadn't been told they were delayed.

Buoyed up by Kaz and Joe, I confronted Sandra the minute she scuttled into the kitchen (on a break from filming duties), and within 30 seconds, backed up by the others, I'd received a throughly outsmarted"Yes.... alright then" from her, and a "Yes of course! Why not?" from the tutor when I marched in to politely ask again. RESULT!!!

The exam went brilliantly. We had 3 topics to choose from. I chose Pets (the only one in the class who didn't go for Family) and basically did the same as in the practice/demonstration last week. I have 2 guinea pigs, "Clyde and Dylan" (I've always loved those names) who slep outside, love cuddles and eating, are black and brown with small ears and I bought them at a pet shop. And that took 5 minutes. Next thing I know, the camcorder was switched off, and the tutor was giving me the sign for "Brilliant." RE-FUCKING-SULT!!!! Went for a drink with Joe after to celebrate - he did equally as well, it would seem.

So yesterday was Alice's birthday - intended to be celebrated back in good old "up north" (or down South, technically - given where she's been for the past year). So naturally, after an entire DAY of getting ready, she came round to my house, where I presented her presents (Thornton's chocolates and an "Alice"-style scarf) and helped polish off an entire bottle of wine. Soon we were on the tram, meeting Neil and K, off to experience Manchester's many delights.

What a fantastic night - drinks consumed, old friends meeting up, a slight kissing drama (not with me.... for a change), the usual. Made our way from pub to bar, eventually landing at 5th Ave. Ah yes. Now, far be it from me to criticise any club, but after that night (and several others in the same reign) I have come to the conclusion that 5th Ave was based on the design of Hell. Observe:

Constant, pressing, stifling, in-escapable heat. All the time. EVERYWHERE.

No/little chance of any relief (ie: bar and toilet queues go on for-fucking-ever)

Constant crowds, wherever you turn

Having to pretend you're pleased to see someone from school who once bullied you, who is now hugging you to death and calling you a "legend"

90/10 = Smoke/Oxygen ratio

Barely able to see

Unrecognisable music (well, to me, anyway)

Quite a lot of knobheads

No chance of escape (unless you are willing to pay, which leads to:)

Arsehole bouncers on the doors, waiting to bleed you dry, and then some more.

It was incredible. We literally had to pay a quid just to LEAVE the place! Unbelievable. Maybe it started as a ploy to deter smokers, who knows? Either way, at one point I ended up locking myself in a loo for about 10 minutes to get away from it all - just listening to the brainless, idiotic girl-chatter from the other side, and thinking that society is definately doomed if we're handing it over to these tarted-up adolescents. Jesus, was I ALWAYS this cynical? Or is it just since I've started seeing a man who makes Jeremy Clarkson look like a shy retiring wallflower? Either way, I had many cynical thoughts about nights out, which I swore to write down, as they were actually quite insightful and accurate. But I forgot them. Ah well, it happens every time I go out, I'll just wait till next time. Not much happened upon returning to the group....... we danced, took photos, I lost a favourite cardigan, which the staff had NO interest in helping me find.... good times!

Afterwards we sat on the pavement outside, Neil randomly massaging my shoulders and telling me I had "lots of tension." Is that something people just say to sound like they know what they're talking about? What did I POSSIBLY have to be tense about? No job, no rent, no mortgage....... my "bullshit" antennae was waving, to say the least...... We stumbled across the road for a pizza and I rang Joe to come pick us up (it was all pre-arranged, as a taxi cost a bomb and he didn't want us getting the Night bus home). Felt incredibly guilty when I remembered how ill he'd been this week, but soon we were cramming ourselves in his Saab, filling the air with pepperoni pizza essence and Alice trying to explain how meeting him while she was smashed "just wasn't good enough!"

Anyway, got home safe and sound, and soon tucked ourselves in Shaun's bed, munching the pizza and discussing the drama (which I'm sworn to secrecy over - ah feck it, it's probably on her blog anyway) of the night. The next morning we had sausage butties and she drove home. Next time I see her, it'll probably be in Newcastle, where she's moved to for the next leg of her course.

All in all, a pretty sweet birthday!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Current Mood: aching and tired

Current Music: "I predict a riot" - Kaiser Chiefs