Flatty New Year

IMG_0624My flatmate (who we will from now on only refer to as FML) was visiting her family elsewhere in Russia over the extended holiday period, and I’d left in mid-December to go back to the UK for Christmas there, so we were long overdue going out for a celebratory-flatmate-New-Year-type-drink.

What was also long overdue is that I’ve been promising to buy her a new mattress since we moved in two months ago and found out that hers was made out of cardboard…

[Actually just after we’d signed and paid the money we released that her mattress was made of cardboard, my sofa bed was held together with dust, and then the power went off. She genuinely wanted to kill me, although I assume that has passed because she’s had plenty of opportunity since and I appear to still be alive]

I took it upon myself to buy her a new one mainly because we went for my choice of apartment (location, location, location), over her’s (in what they call here, the european style)… and because, of course, I have a reputation as an English gentleman to maintain.

Anyway, the other Saturday we took a trip to IKEA to get the mattress and a number of other bits and bobs for the flat. After struggling back on the bus with all our crap it was 11pm by the time we got home… So we ditched it in the hallway and went straight back out…

farsh-i-bochka…to this lovely place, Фарш & Бочка (Farsh and Bochka), which makes it’s own gourmet sausages and serves a large selection of craft ales (I had a Russian IPA which was very delicious… I say ‘a’, but in reality it was probably three).

Interestingly Farsh & Bochka translates (via the medium of Google) into forcedmeat (one assumes forced into sausage skins) and barrel (obviously of beer)… they do like literal naming conventions over here. After sausage and ale we decided to continue our drinking and add some dancing into the equation.

The club we were to attend runs a password system for cheap entry, so we checked the interweb and that nights password (of sorts) was that you had to bring a book which was thicker than your little finger…

Oh yes, now a 3 floor 24 hour bookshop makes more sense… We were the 15th people in the bookshop that night who were looking for cheap thick books about we-cared-not-what. The selection in the image at the top of this post were 129 roubles each (for the sake of argument let’s say that at the moment a rouble is worth about a penny), and included Oscar Wilde’s A Picture of Dorian Gray, some Dostoevsky, an Emily Bronte novel… I don’t even remember which one we went for?

Randomly, the club we went to is famous (well it’s all a matter of perspective isn’t it?) for celebrating New Years Eve every night, so although we’d missed midnight by a long chalk, this was definitely our New Year drinks…

Now I like to think that Saint Pete has some fairly good music taste (although of course, I would say that because I’ve DJed for him), but one of my guilty pleasures when visiting abroad is going to a local cheesy pop club where they play the same tunes week in week out. Hearing songs that you remember from youth but that obviously made a far bigger impression (and hence are still being played) in your present location.

The one that stuck from New Years Eve(-ish) was George Harrison’s Got My Mind Set On You… why it should still be such a crowd-pleaser in St Petersburg is anyone’s guess, but it was tunes of that caliber (and many bizarre Russian pop hits) that kept us there dancing until about 5am.

We returned home to find our discarded (and by now pretty much forgotten about) shopping from IKEA… And I can now thoroughly recommend going to IKEA, getting so drunk you forget you’ve been to IKEA, then returning home to open all your IKEA goodies. It was like Christmas should be.

When I mentioned this blog post to my parents they thought the title referred to flat-pack furniture, and whilst that would make sense, I should make clear that I do not recommend trying to erect flat-pack furniture whilst under the influence of alcohol, as that sounds like a recipe for disaster…

And it gonna take time…. A whole lot of precious time…
It’s gonna take patience and time… To do it right, now.

Honestly it’s dead catchy, I was singing it the whole next day.

About Anglichanin

Anglichanin is a pen name. It is the name I have called my pen. For more useful information please read 'About the Author'.
This entry was posted in Nights Out, Philosophisations, travelogue and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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