:: What is it about going out with Bezuhoff? ::

Last week, Bezuhoff was in town. Knowing that only one night was to be available for socialising, he decreed that all available souls should join him at 19.30 at Opium, a haunt he'd visited and approved the night before. I met Tigger some time before the appointed hour, allowing us time to potter in a Oxford Street's lingerie departments, but not, sadly, to enjoy a cocktail in a bar we actually like. Arriving at Opium at seven-thirty sharp, we were confronted with Bezuhoff's absence and the nagging feeling that we really ought to have gone for a bite to eat first. So, we went to nearby Nara and lured away first Bezuhoff and then a succession of others. Pleasantly sated, most of us later decided to have a post-prandial cocktail in Opium after all - a potted history, replete with silly links, ensues...

We went into Opium, sat down and ordered drinks.
Before our cocktails arrived, the fire alarm went off and an ominous smell of imminent combustion filled the room.
Everybody left post-haste and assembled on the street.
LouLou and K, who'd been served beer already, had it unceremoniously removed from them on our departure.
Somehow, La Palmer managed to keep hold of his beer.
Unsure as to what was happening, we made a beeline for the pub opposite,
ordered drinks and sat back to watch events unfold.
Two fire engines turned up and a group of firemen went down into Opium.
Meanwhile, two more appliances turned up and a crowd of customers, waiters and assorted onlookers assembled.
Amused, we continued to chat and watch until, eventually the firemen went away.
We never found out how serious the "fire" had been.
Five minutes later, the waiter who had served us rushed into the pub.
He apologised for the convenience and then asked if we'd like to go back in,
promising we'd only pay half price.
We said no - it was too late - we'd ordered a bottle.
Besides, as K pointed out, we really shouldn't go back and take our drinks
which had been left unattended.
The waiter then tried to claim that the manager would force him to pay for
our drinks if we didn't go back.
Uproar ensued - LouLou even offered to go and complain to the manager.
We left the pub at closing time - and didn't venture back into Opium.
The moral of the story - never go to the same bar two nights in a row!

And at the back of my mind the whole time, of course, was that we really ought to have gone to Polka in the first place...