Tuesday, April 2, 2019
I have a slight headache this morning, a faint pressure behind the eyes, but it's all my own doing so I can't complain. I went out with some co-workers last night to "The Big Bingo Show" at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern, colloquially known as "drag queen bingo." The host, Timberlina, does drag somewhat in the vein of Conchita Wurst -- or maybe Conchita Wurst's uncle -- with a big beard. She called herself our "hirsute hostess." The bingo involved lots of lip-synched (and actually sung) pop music, some rolling around on the stage, a Cher doll and a sort of manic delivery that, especially at the end, made it very hard to keep up with all the numbers. (I'm sure my three pints of IPA had nothing to do with that.) There were three shelves of somewhat tatty prizes, one of which was a knitted loo roll cover that I coveted, but unfortunately none of us won anything.
It's been years and years since I played bingo, and we had a great time. It wasn't quite like I'm used to, with a square gridded card of numbers. This involved a sheet of paper divided into five (or six?) sections, with three lines of numbers to each section, and three rounds of play per game -- anyway, it's too complicated to explain, but it was a different style than I'd seen before. Maybe it's British bingo?
Our group didn't gather until 7:30 p.m., so I faced the eternal question of what to do between 5 (when I got off work) and our meeting time. It wasn't worth coming home (which was in the wrong direction) but it was too much time to go straight to the tavern. I wound up cooling my heels with an egg salad sandwich and a hot chocolate in a Starbucks, reading the second volume of Karl Ove Knausgaard's autobiographical "My Struggle" novel. At least I had a gift card for the Starbucks, so I didn't have to pay anything for my meager dinner!
Dave didn't come to bingo. He came home and spent the evening in his recliner with the dog. He's a homebody. Besides, he's leaving later this week with his students to perform in Europe for several days, so he wants to maximize his time chez nous.
(Photo: Early morning inside a take-away restaurant near our flat.)