Vertigo

At long last, I've done something interesting.

Yesterday, I went up to a bar which is on the 72nd floor of a hotel that overlooks Singers. All these photos were taken through the window, and I'm scared of heights so I had my eyes shut, but they seem to have come out ok.

We were in a bit of a rush to get up there - the sun goes down at about 7pm every night all year, and I was still stuck in traffic at 6.30.

There are two lifts that go up to this bar. We rushed through the ground floor restaurant, rounded the corner, and almost ran into the last of the 30 people who were in the queue ahead of us.

One lift was out of order, it seemed. Fifteen minutes of sunlight left.

After about 10 minutes, just the five of us were left. Suddenly, the lift we'd thought was faulty arrived. With some trepidation, we entered.

There then followed the usual, predictable lift conversations:

"I'd hate to get stuck in a lift," said someone.
"I got stuck in a lift once with a friend who was 8 and a half months pregnant," someone rejoined. "She'd just bought a ladle. I asked her, 'What am I supposed to do with a ladle if you go into labour?'"

There were also the lift envy stories:

"I've been in a lift that went up over a hundred floors once, and it was glass," said someone.
"Mine flew into outer space," said Grandpa.

I made that last one up... or, at least, Roald Dahl did.

There were also the conversations particular to this lift:

"It's faster than the bullet train," was one such remark, from someone who'd been in the lift, and the bullet train, before.
"It's made my ears pop!" everyone cried simultaneously.

I felt extremely sorry for the lift attendant who must hear these comments every minute of every day of his life. He looked like he was at breaking point.

Ding! Doors open to reveal unforgettable views. I was in a hurry to catch the last of the light, but the lift attendant pushed ahead of me and flung himself through a window.

Fortunately, we managed to bag a window seat, and drank ludicrous cocktails with hilarious names linked to sex - one was called a Sperm Bank! It's got Bailey's in it! Where do these people get their witty ideas from? I had a Chizzy Chewy (I have no idea whether that's a sexual pun or not) followed by a Mango Margarita, before switching to beer when I remembered I was off to watch England play football later that night.

Following our lofty adventure, we went to an Irish bar to watch the game. Glenn Hoddle's commentary was particularly amusing. Gary Speed shot well over the bar, and Glenn demonstrated his knowledge of the game by helpfully explaining:

"He's done well to get that one on target."

And what a goal from Beckham. He also did a great job of injuring himself too, I thought. Owen looked pretty sharp, considering he's had an injury - splinters on the backside, I gather. And as for Rooney - when someone teaches him to pass, he'll be a world beater.


That's a theatre on the bottom right that looks like a giant bug.