So last night we discovered that Birmingham (Nightingales specifically) apparently isn’t the place to go on a Friday night. You’d have thought I might have noticed this last year, when I was going over there a lot more for various reasons, but apparently not.

We’d almost gone to London, but had abandoned that idea when it became clear that nothing seemed to be going on there, at least among the two people we managed to get hold of. Birmingham was choice number two, having ruled out everywhere else in the West Midlands.

We got there quite late. Bar-that-I-can’t-remember-the-name-of at the top of Hurst Street was a bit quiet, but nice. Gales was also pretty quiet and had some *very* random people in there (including a short, fat black man dressed up as Beyonce, who was giving out glowsticks to anyone that wanted one). But nonetheless, it was good to do something different.

I guess the moral is that random nights out, planned on the spur of the moment, are good. In fact that’s one thing I really miss about living in London. There’s much less scope here for randomness, but perhaps that makes it better when it does happen. Even if we did go on the wrong night 🙂