Another
Collings and Herring Podcast is up for your delectation. It may be "seemingly unrehearsed" and obsessed with ginger beer (how strange to discover that after yesterday's ginger binge) - which is how our 2 star review in Q described us - but it's still fantastic value for money. Spread the word.
This evening I was meeting up with a comedian friend, but I had to wait for them to finish their gig first. I don't really like hanging around in comedy clubs on my rare days off, so I headed up the road to look for a cafe to read
"Stuart - A Life Lived Backwards", which looks like it's going to be an interesting read. It was after 8 o clock, so a lot of places were closed and all the pubs were chokka. But after a short walk I spotted a little cafe, that was open and though it only had a few tables there was space for me, so I went in, ordered a pot of green tea and sat down. It was only once I was at the table that I noticed a book on display on the table, which was about sexual domination. I looked around and saw that the cafe had a few display cabinets full of whips and dildos and was decorated with suggestive posters. There were quite a lot of people milling around and some kind of gallery downstairs, exhibiting goodness knows what, which people were coming up and down from. One of the people was a bald man in a rubber dress and another young man was wearing a dog collar (and I don't mean he was a vicar).
None of this was a problem to me. I am an open minded individual and actually rather envy people who are so demonstrative about the things they enjoy. But it was wryly amusing to me that I had walked into this and sat down before I realised how it was themed. Imagine trying to explain that to my disbelieving friends and blog readers. "Yes, the reason I was in that bondage shop was because I wanted a cup of tea. I had no idea what was going on in there." Chinny reck-on. And was Jimmy Hill in there as well.
I am sure to the other patrons I looked like a single man who had come into the store in order to see what would happen and see who he might meet. But I really hadn't. Honestly. Oh, there's just no way anyone is going to believe me.
Indeed another single man was at the next table, who started reading one of the books on display. Because of limited space he was joined by a couple of women he didn't know, who struck up a conversation with him and they asked him whether he knew where he was or whether he'd just chanced in by accident. He was honest enough to admit he knew what the place was about. Not that I am being dishonest in saying that I didn't. I didn't. Oh, what's the point.
The cafe, I discovered was called
Coffee, Cake and Kink, and I suppose I could have known that and still not realised where I was going, if I thought the emporium was run by Ray Davies. But the website lets you know where it is if you like drinking fine Colombian coffee, eating cakes and being tied to a bed by a woman in a leather basque and having a dildo stuffed in your anus. But you mustn't go if you only like cake and having a dildo stuffed in your anus. You must like all three.
I didn't want coffee, cake or anal violation, but was still welcomed by the friendly staff. The man in the dress asked me if everything was OK. It was. Except I think maybe they had given me some kind of fruit tea, instead of green tea. But I didn't mind, though briefly worried that "tea" was special code within bondage circles and I had been given something else. Either a mushroom based tea, or worse, what if it was some kind of debilitating brew. Would I wake up downstairs in the "gallery" with a ball stuffed in my mouth and a gimp jumping at at me and a redneck about to anally violate me. Well, if I was worried about that, I drank all the tea. But none of those terrible things happened. Even after I had had a second pot, just to check.
But even though I had chanced across this place by accident, like the real life sit-com character that I am, I love the fact that London caters for everyone. And that we live in a time when men in rubber dresses can openly eat cake and drink coffee in public and then possibly go downstairs and whip a gimp (who knows, I was too scared to go and look, though clearly I am fascinated). Everyone was happy and comfortable with themselves and they reminded me a bit of
the Dr Who fans I met back in 2002. And I'm guessing there might be a reasonable intersection in the Venn diagram of these two groups.
It's good to know what you like and it's even better to be allowed to express that, even if some idiots might deride you or think you're weird. I am glad I live in London in the 21st century. We are lucky people.
But I didn't buy any butt plugs and anyone who says I did is lying.
