I’ve never been to Tup Tup Palace, that nightclub of dreams in the centre of Newcastle.
Not just because the bouncers wouldn’t let me in – no amount of “don’t you know who I am?” could squeeze me through those doors – but I honestly can’t think of a more horrendous way to spend a Friday night. I’m sure the hundreds of young people who swagger in and stagger out again at 3am into urine-sodden streets have a wonderful time; I’d rather endure an evening with Nigel Farage at a UKIP rally.
The cinema billed it as “the story of the most ambitious television series ever made”. Outside, the hoarding lit up the night sky: Space Precinct Legacy.
I can’t believe that anyone actually remembers Space Precinct, the 1994 sci-fi series I co-produced with Gerry Anderson, let alone that it has any legacy, other than grey hairs on my head and a big red loss on the books of our backers.
More people have a mother than a lover, observed the consumer research analyst from Kantar Worldpanel, explaining why we spend twice as much on Mother’s Day as we do on Valentine’s Day.
Apparently this year’s sales are likely to have dipped because Mother’s Day came early. With the two events so close, and Christmas just a few crumpled-wrapping-paper weeks before, it’s not surprising that our wallets have been feeling a little jaded. Apparently we’re all suffering from “gifting fatigue”.
“Here, Poppy!” called out a female voice, more in hope than anticipation.
Instantly three little dogs dashed across the room, wagging their tails in excitement.
“Good girl,” said three owners simultaneously.
Poppy is clearly the in-vogue name for dogs – there appeared to be several of them in Central Bark, our local dog training school (or maybe “Puppy” sounds like “Poppy” in a Geordie accent?). I guess the teachers in Izzy’s school have the same problem with the multiple Olivers and Charlies.
“Boots!” I called out, confident in the knowledge that only one dog would react. My puppy, who was pretending to eat a small spaniel, immediately turned and looked at me and I felt a flush of pride. That’s my boy.
“Here Boots!” I called, and he replied by bounding off in the opposite direction.
