Category Archives: Friends

All the fun of the Circus (Covent Garden)

I am a bit over these themed bars that seem to pop-up all over the shop.

I quite like the Cellar Door, on The Strand, it’s right next to work, and there is a certain je ne sais quoi about drinking a cocktail from a tea-cup, that I never  tire of (props to Bourne and Hollingsworth, for spawning my life long love of teacup cocktails), I enjoyed a Champagne cocktail or two at the China Club in Paris (ooo la la), incidentally home of the best lavatories I have ever visited.

But when it came to my good friend’s third (yes, third) hen night (for only one marriage), and the ‘pleasure of my company’ was requested at Circus, I was suspicious, I mean, Covent Garden is not known for it’s authentic bar experiences, at least not without swathes of tourists.

Trepidation and petulance, did not stop me from donning a blue silk 1940’s dress, and minnie mouse style wedges, neither did it stop me twiddling my stupid, thin hair into 1940’s victory rolls.

There are a LOT of rules at Circus, here are some:

1) groups are not allowed to split the bill over various cards, it’s one card, or cash.

2) single sex groups are banned, banned, banned (which is where the smooth talking Miss Lockwood came in ultra handy).

3) no cameras


On the basis of the rules, and the location I was expecting the staff to be the offish sort, I was wrong, they were lovely, welcoming, accommodating – they were chatty without being intrusive, when we had to wait for five minutes for our 10pm (yes, TEN PM) table, they kept us informed. Someone, from another table had misordered their cocktails, so they gave them to us. Lovely job.


One of the rules is that at the weekend, everyone has to order two courses. This was problematic, as due to the late table, I’d stuffed my face with quiche before I’d even left Clapham. For main course I ordered Scallop and King Prawn salad, the prawns were huge and impressive (three of them, which sounds stingy, but they really were glorious looking crustacea) – however they were overcooked, and so not particularly flavourful, much less moist. The citrus mayonnaise was nothingy, the scallops dull.

For pudding I had the pineapple tart with fresh ginger ice cream. I spent the course wondering who decided that matching pineapple with ginger was a good idea, and concluding that, actually, it wasn’t (NB: one of my favourite books the Flavour Thesaurus doesn’t even list pineapple and ginger as a valid combination…and that book reckons pineapple and anchovy would be fine). Either part on its own was good though.


Now… this is where it got good.

Every-so-often, throughout dinner, the metal blinds over the open plan kitchen would close, like eyelids, leaving the room dark, the music would rise to a crescendo, and an act would perform.

Act 1 was fire girls, I’ve seen girls dancing with, and eating fire too many times to mention, probably most impressively in the snow at the Hospital Club Christmas iceskating party (where I later broke my knee, in one of those ‘showing off’ moments, never to be repeated).

Act 2 – was AWESOME, tall and lanky (and somehow v sexy) dude, in high wasted 1940’s trousers, with a suitcase and a crystal ball, which he conjured to look as if it was floating in the air, rolling it over his arms, twiddling it in his fingers, dexterity unsurpassed, I could watch that for hours.

Act 3 – sexy girl stretching cat-like, whilst hanging from a cane ring over the main table, effortlessly hanging from the ring by a foot, balanced beautifully, somewhere between Olympic gymnast and Burlesque moon act.

Act 4 – dancing and singing, short story told in dance, three gyrating girls to the Beyonce’s, Single Ladies.

When the acts are over, but you still want more. The place changes into a club-type-affair, the DJ mixes classic songs that make the diners chatter about how they “haven’t heard this for AGES!”, the staff, slowly followed by the diners dance on tables, and a party is had.

Taxi’s at this stage for me, after all, it was the third hen night, and I was pooped.

I had a wonderful time, with some of my favourite people, I was left hankering for more. Oh, and the Tom Ford designed minimalis sci-fi interior, was pretty okes too.

(all pictures courtesy of Circus, Covent Garden).

Big Love to the bride.


27-29 Endell Street,
Covent Garden,
London, WC2H 9BA.

  • Mon,17:30 to Midnight
  • Tue,17:30 to Midnight
  • Wed,17:30 to Midnight
  • Thu,17:30 to 01:00
  • Fri,17:30 to 02:00
  • Sat,17:30-02:00
  • Sun,Closed
  • Bank Holidays, Closed

Just some nice *stuff*

I got up this morning and realised I didn’t leave the house yesterday…

It was of those nice days, punctuated by pancake flipping for breakfast and barefoot baking, a Victoria Sandwich affair… ably assisted by a three-year old …

I’m *all about* the filling, so we baked one cake, sliced it in half horizontally, and filled it with vanilla cream, chopped strawberries and a thick spooning of this:

I don’t really use a recipe for cakes, I weigh the eggs, then match the egg weight with the same weight of self-raising four, golden caster sugar and butter. A teeny bit of vanilla essence. Bobs your uncle.

I am a great fan of my kite, though have only half-arsedly flown it once, on a fateful trip to Cornwall –  circa 2005. Kites, like bunting are things I would like to *get involved* with… Here’re some lovely kites I saw on my way to work this morning:

As seen in the window of East – High Street Kensington

…always a sucker for a foreign newspaper…

1930’s Glamourama

This bank holiday weekend was punctuated by a 1930’s Garden Party. All marquees, flower arranging (tulips and lillies), doilies, and dangly dresses.

I took far too few photos, here are some:

The boys, of course, saw this as an excuse to dress as gangsters:

A month left in London

My lovely medeplichtige, will be departing these shores soon, for an exciting new job in Holland.

This is her list of ‘To Do’s’ before she exits, stage left:

  • Tower42
  • Posh High Tea
  • Design (Audio Visual) Museum
  • Spitalfields Market
  • Windsor Castle

*               Tower 42 – Done, a lot of fuss is made about these super-high-altitude drinking and dining experiences. Yes the view from Tower42 is AMAZING, like seriously aweinspiringlybreathtaking… but it’s not the kinda place you can relax.

In much the same way as Windows bar, at the top of the Hilton – Park Lane:

…for me, just a bit *meh*…

*               High Tea – I took this as an instruction to produce a colour coded  high tea crib sheet, using five Top Ten reviews (Top Table, Time Out, Square Meal, Elegant Lifestyle and I cross-referenced their top tens and prioritised the restaurants by number of mentions, the top two were Claridges and The Ritz –  we chose The Ritz, we liked the gold leaf walls.

*              Design Museum (audio visual)

I hope she means this design museum, site of Bauhaus gorgeousness… because I NEED to see the Brit Insurance Designs of the Year 2010

*               Spitalfields Market – if only I could remember whether it was open on a Saturday, or a Sunday…considering I’ve spent about a week of my life there, I really should know by now.
*               Windsor Castle (and pub while I’m there ;)) – what with being a republican I have never been.

There are many things I will miss about the medeplichtige… and these are just some of them:

1. Her endless enthusiasm for items sporting a Union Jack

[this doormat is from LiveLaughLove]

2. Her use of the English language – and the wonderful words that she has made-up, including, though not limited to ‘amazical‘ – this should also include her incredulity at the word ‘haberdashery’….

3. Her complete inability to make banal English small-talk…but her eagerness to learn how to pay ‘an English unnecessary compliment’ – we’re getting there

4. Her complete lack of care that I am nearly fluent in Dutch…kjutvijfifi… doei lieve medeplichtige – met je mooie haar

5. Her friendship,and support, her sense of humour, the fact she *knows* how to do an *in joke* (and I am *all about* in jokes) the fact she is amongst the cleverest and kindest people I have ever met, our chalk-and-cheese-ness (she is direct, restrained, and considered, I am faffy, ridiculous and peripheral) and her hair…