We enjoyed a leisurely morning pootling about, half-watching Saturday Morning Kitchen, drinking coffee and eating toast. Outside, the weather was beautiful, with blue skies and sunshine. We set off at 2:00pm and took Olive and had a great journey to Birmingham, following Jeeves's directions. I had pre-booked parking at one of the multistorey car parks, and it was a fifteen-minute walk along the canal to the restaurant.
It was here that things started to go wrong. For some reason, my left heel began to hurt, and this, in turn, affected my right hip. I hobbled in Sophie's wake, astounded by the pubs and bars where people were eating and drinking and having a whale of a time. Being stone cold sober among so many merry people was a little off-putting! We turned away from the canal and headed towards a busy area with more bars and restaurants, and Sophie pointed out Coyote Ugly, where a lot of women were headed, dressed like cowgirls, with stetsons, very short skirts and cowboy boots... apparently, they put on a Bottomless Brunch at the weekend, and I think the girls going had taken "bottomless" to heart!
It was here we also encountered various stag and hen groups, with one fetching man attired in a white off-the-shoulder wedding dress. A stag group, who were behind us, cheered and yelled and took photos. I suppose it made a change from their swearing! It was like encountering the twin cities of Sodom and Gomorrah! I know I sound like a prude, but it was awful, just awful.
Luckily, we soon arrived at Dishoom, and despite being a little early, we were shown to our table. Here, it was much more civilised with people enjoying the delicious food and ambience. It was a gorgeous restaurant with lots of greenery and incense sticks emitting beautiful aromas, and resembled (what I should imagine), a colonial villa in an Indian hill station.
We ordered a bottle of sparkling water and perused the menu. Sophie suggested okra fries and chilli chicken to start, and we both decided on curries for our main course. Sophie chose the chicken Ruby while I went for something different, a Goan monkfish curry.
It was a busy place, and there were so many staff about! Our waiter was very good, and our starters were delivered quickly. Sophie treated herself to a bottle of Kingfisher beer, while I stuck to the fizzy water.
The starters were delicious and disappeared quickly. The chicken was spicy and hot, and the sauce was lovely and thick with chillies and slivers of spring onion. We also loved the okra fries and would love to recreate both dishes at home.
With our curries, we'd ordered a basmati rice between us and garlic naan. I loved my curry, which was fragrant with coconut and chunks of fish. It made a change to have a fish curry, rather than chicken or beef!
To our amusement, many of the people arriving were also going to see Tame Impala, as the wait staff were asking why they were there. We sat back and had a little break before ordering dessert, as we wanted to linger in the restaurant rather than venture out into the madness!
With dessert, we both took a little while to choose. For once, I decided against the chocolate cake and opted for a coconutty fruit crumble. Sophie took the plunge and went for a very different pudding! It carried a warning on the actual menu, and the waiter also warned her to expect something very different! It was called Kala Khatta with nice cream and was described: "On a bed of almond mascarpone cream: fluffy ice-flakes steeped in kokum and jamun fruit syrup, blueberries, chilli, lime and black salt. To the uninitiated, the first spoonful may surprise. The second is captivating." Hmm! Rather her than me!
The desserts arrived, and Sophie took a tentative first mouthful. She said there were layers of flavour, which went on and on, but she was a little unsure. I also tried and agreed with her. It wasn't for me!
Mine was delicious with fruit and coconut flakes scattered on the top.
We wanted to have a drink at the bar afterwards, but since we'd arrived, so had the hordes. Sophie came back from the loo and said there wasn't a seat free, which was disappointing. We called for the bill, and Sophie nearly fell off her chair when she looked at the total: £120! Bimey! Who says that the cost-of-living crisis is affecting people! The restaurant was packed!
We paid the bill and went to the bar, but there were no seats and outside, there was a queue of people waiting for a table. It was here that things really started to go wrong... My heel was still painful (the tablets I'd taken hadn't done a thing), and I limped after Sophie as we made our way back to the Utilita Arena. We headed towards the ICC conference centre, where there was a graduation ceremony in progress. I dread to think how many pics we photobombed as we weaved in and out of the crowd. Sophie admitted to not knowing where she was going, so we had a short, sharp bickerfest when I said I didn't want to go the wrong way and then retrace our steps.
We went through the bottom floor of the ICC centre, which avoided going past the awful bars and restaurants we'd experienced earlier. This brought us out onto the canal walk again, and it was here that I saw the most awful sights that I doubt will ever be erased from my memory.
I am an advocate of women wearing what they want, but I saw so many women wearing the skimpiest of clothes and looking truly dreadful. There were acres of white, pimply flesh and even bum cheeks on show when they should have been covered up. It was Birmingham, for heaven's sake, not Bermuda!
We arrived at the Utilita Arena and were directed to the side of the building where people were waiting to be admitted when the doors opened at 6:00pm. We decided to sit on a flight of steps, and I Googled Achilles heel treatments, promising I would try to contact a local clinic on Monday. My daughter was very angry with me, saying I should have sorted this out before now, but I didn't have a problem in Paris!
After a little while, we were allowed to join a long, snaking queue which wound its way around the building. Sophie's bag was searched, and we stood and waited, the temperature falling and making both of us feel chilly.
The queue suddenly started to move, and we were soon at the entrance doors and our tickets scanned. Sophie wanted to buy a T-shirt, so she found a quieter merchandise stand and then joined another queue for the loos. I definitely wasn't the oldest today, and we saw lots of dad/son/mother/daughter combos.
We found our door into the arena itself, and Sophie disappeared to get us a drink. She came back with a small tin of wine each (£20 for the two!), and we went to find our seats. We were in row KK, so up a steep flight of steps. I started to feel uncomfortable, as I hate heights and was terrified I was going to fall. I was clutching my bag, my plastic cup and tin of wine and sat down feeling panicky. As you can imagine, this did not go down well with Sophie!
The arena was mostly empty as it was so quiet, and I knew we had about five hours ahead of us. My main worry was when people started to arrive, and I had to keep getting up to let them pass. Sophie could see that I was unhappy; I literally felt like I couldn't move. I wasn't having a panic attack, but I just knew I wasn't going to get any better.
She asked if I wanted to leave, and I said yes, which was a horrible decision to make, especially as the tickets weren't cheap. I gingerly rose to my feet and made my way cautiously back down the steps. We stood next to the railings overlooking the lower tiers and the standing section, and Sophie asked if we could stand there. We were given a resounding no!
We made the decision to leave and made our way back to the car park, explaining to the stewards that we were going as Sophie didn't feel well. I could have cried...
Back at the car, we navigated our way back out of Birmingham easily and were soon on the M6. Sophie called Keith to let him know, and most of the journey back was in silence as Sophie was so angry with me. I didn't blame her, to be honest. I had felt scared when we went to see The Cure at Wembley, and I said that the venue for Not For Radio was perfect, as it was so small and intimate. I think Tame Impala is a little more famous than Maria and her band, though!
Back at home, we sat with Keith in the kitchen and had a drink, regaling him with our day and what had happened. We then sat outside on the steps with Mooney, and this turned out to be lovely and sociable as we chatted to Michelle when she drove past, and then Lynn, who was walking a very affectionate, but smelly Daphne! A blissful end to a mixed bag of a day!
