This weekend I almost committed a deed that was both dark and heinious and a betrayal of my Gaelic working class roots.
I almost went to a wine bar.
It was a mate's birthday bash and he'd arranged to meet me at "Henry's Wine Bar" on the Saturday.
Fortunately my great betrayal was swiftly averted when Henry's turned out to be a champagne bar, not some common garden wine bar. So that was alright.
It's a fairly expensive place, specialising in cocktails at £6 a pinch - definitely the place you take young ladys to appear flush with the cash. After genteely sipping a Metropoliton for an hour and then being convinced that everyone was out to get me drunk with all the "finish your drink Stu, we're leaving" at every public house we went to we absconded to a Chinese round the corner from the train station. Apparently it had just reopened due to fire (and not food poisoning I hope!). The cake's good though.
Good night out in Leicester centre. And no social etiquette was harmed in the making of this post. Hurrah!
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