After many costume changes and much discussion, we finally arrived at The Brink at 8.30pm, just as the after work crowd were leaving.
Spread over three floors, the (self-proclaimed) Amsterdam-styled bar was the height of sophistication that year. In light of this, we all adopted a suitably sophisticated pose and grabbed the first empty table we could find.
Being as it was a mini-celebration, BFF volunteered to get the first round of drink(s).
“One coke, three straws” BFF asked the barman, with his best butter-wouldn’t-melt smile. It was not quite up to countering the look of sheer venom that the barman threw him. Undeterred nonetheless, BFF soon returned to the table with our drink(s).
With a vain attempt at retaining a sophisticated air, we all tucked into our drink(s), whilst BFF returned to the reason for celebration:
“Now JB, the thing to remember when on TV you always need to know which camera is pointing at you and look into that camera, thus getting the audience on side with you. It’s a tip I picked up when singing with Sister Sledge.” At which point MPG and I rolled our eyes at each other. BFF had once appeared on stage at The Ice Box with Sister Sledge. Having attained a thirty second slot on Breakfast TV the following morning, BFF was now the resident “expert” on all things television.
“I’ll make sure I remember that.” I dutifully replied, “but I still haven’t received confirmation that it’s taking place yet.”
Spread over three floors, the (self-proclaimed) Amsterdam-styled bar was the height of sophistication that year. In light of this, we all adopted a suitably sophisticated pose and grabbed the first empty table we could find.
Being as it was a mini-celebration, BFF volunteered to get the first round of drink(s).
“One coke, three straws” BFF asked the barman, with his best butter-wouldn’t-melt smile. It was not quite up to countering the look of sheer venom that the barman threw him. Undeterred nonetheless, BFF soon returned to the table with our drink(s).
With a vain attempt at retaining a sophisticated air, we all tucked into our drink(s), whilst BFF returned to the reason for celebration:
“Now JB, the thing to remember when on TV you always need to know which camera is pointing at you and look into that camera, thus getting the audience on side with you. It’s a tip I picked up when singing with Sister Sledge.” At which point MPG and I rolled our eyes at each other. BFF had once appeared on stage at The Ice Box with Sister Sledge. Having attained a thirty second slot on Breakfast TV the following morning, BFF was now the resident “expert” on all things television.
“I’ll make sure I remember that.” I dutifully replied, “but I still haven’t received confirmation that it’s taking place yet.”
.
The rather arch barman chose this moment to swoop and retrieve the glass (three straws) and swished back to the bar in a frenzied huff. Every Monday, the barmen at The Brink were new and for one day only were quite sweet, as the week progressed they grew more and more special and over-confident with every passing hour. As today was a Thursday, the barman was at his worst, still we figured he only had three more days to go, so we chose to ignore his moodiness and hold out for another fifteen minutes or so before buying another drink(s).
.
Just as MPG had conceeded defeat and was about to go to the bar, a group of people walked into the bar, all dressed very smartly. Amongst them was the dark haired girl from the Channel 3 waiting room.
“Don’t look now,” I say to BFF and MPG in an urgent whisper, “but that girl in the black and white herringbone jacket is the scary-looking girl from the interview waiting room.”
As if sensing me looking, the girl turned her head and spotted me. To my surprise she made an excuse and broke away from her friends and made her way over to our table.
“Hi, weren’t you at the interview today?” she asked me, and as I nodded she extended her hand and introduced herself: “my name’s Emily.”
“Pleased to meet you Emily,” I replied, “I’m JB and these are my friends Edward and Pip – but we just call him MPG, because he hates his name.” I reciprocated, realising too late that I was gabbling.
“Hi” say MPG and BFF.
“What did you think about the interview today?” Emily continued, “did you realise that we were going to be on TV?”
“No I didn’t, did you?” I replied.
“No me neither, I just replied to an advert in Crème – how about you?”
“The same,” I said, “wasn't it strange? Did they tell you when we were going to hear what happens next?”
“They only told me that they would call me with more details.” Emily replied.
At this very point, as if by magic, both our mobiles rang simultaneously. We both reached for our phones to see Channel 3 on the caller ID.
“Don’t look now,” I say to BFF and MPG in an urgent whisper, “but that girl in the black and white herringbone jacket is the scary-looking girl from the interview waiting room.”
As if sensing me looking, the girl turned her head and spotted me. To my surprise she made an excuse and broke away from her friends and made her way over to our table.
“Hi, weren’t you at the interview today?” she asked me, and as I nodded she extended her hand and introduced herself: “my name’s Emily.”
“Pleased to meet you Emily,” I replied, “I’m JB and these are my friends Edward and Pip – but we just call him MPG, because he hates his name.” I reciprocated, realising too late that I was gabbling.
“Hi” say MPG and BFF.
“What did you think about the interview today?” Emily continued, “did you realise that we were going to be on TV?”
“No I didn’t, did you?” I replied.
“No me neither, I just replied to an advert in Crème – how about you?”
“The same,” I said, “wasn't it strange? Did they tell you when we were going to hear what happens next?”
“They only told me that they would call me with more details.” Emily replied.
At this very point, as if by magic, both our mobiles rang simultaneously. We both reached for our phones to see Channel 3 on the caller ID.
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