Microscopic Pianist

Admittedly it's a tenuous link between title and story but I didn't really know where to start. My brothers paid me a rare visit this weekend, two boys from Cornwall in the big city. I think they were quite impressed by the sheer variety of entertainment on offer (intentionally and unintentionally).

The night that really got their attention though was one of those rare unplanned nights when everything just seems to happen. We went to the Living Room in Islington and it was superb, the food was spot on, but what really got our attention was the singer and pianist performing upbeat lounge-style covers of everything from Prince to Nirvana.

The two guys were absolutely faultless, not a bum note all night. They really won the crowd over, well apart from this one miserable sow who had plonked herself on the end of the piano, right next to the singer, yet she stood with her back to him the entire night with a face like thunder. I don't get why people bother and why on earth they weren't enjoying it, her friends seemed to be - maybe that was the problem. We had a great time anyway.

Our next port of call was a club called Clockwork on Pentonville Road, i'd never been to it before. It was actually really good, run by nice people and they had an unbelievably cheap bar £5 a round. That is great anywhere and you certainly wouldn't expect to pay that at a Central London club. My brother even managed to pull, well he got so far as leaving in a cab with her. However when my other brother and I got home, a cab pulled up and my brother jumped out. Oh dear what a charmer.

It's not a particularly interesting tale if you weren't there. You weren't.