Seeing in 2013- How was it for you?

I apologise that this has little to do with Video Filming, Post Production or film and video transfer services but I am supposed to still be on Holiday.

As the last few months have been quite stressful and the end of 2012 would be quite welcomed, Steph (head of everything) tracked down a delightful 18th century converted coaching inn Gastro Pub Hotel, set in a picturesque village in the Cotswolds, close to the Thames, for us to see the New Year in together, at their dinner dance. Adorned with awards and stars and to die for reviews, what could possibly go wrong? A relaxing afternoon walk we had planned in the idyllic countryside, working up an appetite for the evening …went straight down the plughole due to torrential rain reducing the visibility on the M4 to 50 yards and the 10 yard sprint from the car to the front door of our most romantic rendezvous, even penetrated the new M&S Y- fronts – so it was a beer in front of the log fire, drying out. As occasional locals came in, it seemed as though we had arrived at where the extras for Emmerdale are bred. It was very rural and there were more than a few rustic characters.

Having been requested to order from the gourmet menu in advance, we sat down in the restaurant at 8. Within moments of ordering drinks, the freshly baked bread arrived at table – this was going to be a great evening. The bread was swiftly followed by an amuse-bouche in the form of a small cup of hot orange liquid, with some olive oil floating on the top. It tasted of…..nothing…. so we assumed it must be Pumpkin soup. Lets face it, the inside of a pumpkin is a bigger waste of space than Ed Miliband. I added a sprinkle of salt but Ma bouche n’était pas amuse. Imagine our surprise when, enquiring as to what the orange liquid was, we were told it was carrot soup. Now as some may know the aforementioned head of everything, my lovely wife Stephanie, suffered a double jaw fracture in September following a fall whilst out running – yeah so much for keeping fit – sigh. For 6 weeks she had her jaws wired together and for 6 weeks I created amazing and original soups that Heston, Gordon and Jamie would have been proud of, so to be told that the hot flavourless orange liquid with a bit of olive oil floating on top was carrot soup started alarm bells ringing.

The starters arrived and Steph’s was not what she had ordered…can you feel the direction this is going? Ok the owner, Pierre La Nobtête was quickly on the case and our evening was back on track.
We are great people watchers- and as we looked around the restaurant now filling up to near capacity of 40 covers, you notice the variety of people and ages, working out who were locals and who, like us, had booked online. Certainly the age group, with an odd exception was over 40. There was Mr and Mrs dressed to the nines – probably thinking what a scruffy lot the “smart cas” majority were, the really fit bird with the eco warrior, who had been let out of his tree for the night, complete with what looked like a Tesco security tag in his ear and tattoos up his arm and neck and I’m thinking WTF does she see in that? Then there was the lady in the gold dress who thought she looked a million dollars and I suddenly realised that this was a crinkled backless version of what they wrap the marathon runners in when they finish. There were 6 locals who I’m sure were having a key party – no winners there… but STOP, the main course arrived. Mine is Venison and Steph’s is Mallard. It was beautifully plated, the chef had done an amazing job. It was only when I reached for a piece of bread and the duck moved, that more alarm bells rang. As Steph cut into it, it went from crispy to pink and from pink to quick call the Vet, it’s not dead yet! Yes it was completely raw in the centre. Even my venison was very rare but I could cope with that- raw duck is only going in one direction and it flew back to the kitchen. Realising it would have to be cooked from fresh it was quickly joined by the venison – I didn’t want to eat alone. Enter Pierre La Nobtête who said it would be 4 to 5 mins or so Steph thought – No I told her that was Forty-five mins – they will start again and they did. Back to the people watching!

2nd time round the presentation was slightly jaded, my potato rosti upon which my venison sat, looked like a circle of fried dishcloth but at least the meat was cooked and Steph’s duck, sorry Mallard, was very tasty. So along comes Pierre La Nobtête to ask if everything was alright “well it was cooked properly this time” came my reply and in a very dismissive put down Pierre La Nobtête, informed us that he “lurvezzs” to eat raw duck! I was going to give him a blast of “Gordon” but instead gave him one of the looks that my wife uses when I have overstepped the mark (not that I ever have).

The desserts, cheeseboard, coffee and petit fours were all superb and we were on track for a great evening. As diners finished they vacated the room “to allow the DJ to set up”. I filmed weddings for more than twenty years and over those years worked with some of the best and worst DJ’s around so, looking into a room that had previously seated 40 people and seeing a wall of speakers that looked as though they been last used at a Wembley concert and 5 guys who looked like they were extras from Shaft, did not bode well and believe me it didn’t. Playing club music at hideous decibel levels in a small room to a largely 40+ white audience is never going to work and within 10 minutes the room was nearly empty. I had one of my brief WTF conversations about the appalling music with Pierre La Nobtête who gave me a French shrug and I then went up to the 5 Shaft extras and…very politely told them their fortunes. Amazingly rather than beating the s%&t out of me, the main man agreed that a different “set” would need to be used. I swear I did not suggest any tracks but the clubbing crap suddenly mutated into Dancing Queen and it seemed that half of Berkshire arrived within 10 seconds of those opening 4 bars. It’s party time!!!

Well actually, no – Berkshire’s coolest well-good DJ innit played 6 more consecutive Abba tracks and then alternated between Elvis and Abba until a box of CD’s arrived and a mix more akin to a party was played.
It’s 3 minutes to midnight. What has the DJ got on to play in a carefully timed run to midnight and the start of 2013- an old classic, a bit of Robbie, Queen, Take That, Will Iam, Paloma Faith, Jessie J. The choice is endless, so what did they play……..Ghostbusters! Yes you read right first time bloody GHOSTBUSTERS. On the stroke of Midnight the assistant manager came running in with her phone and the music was cut and the DJ started a countdown 8 (they don’t do 10 or 9) -7-6-5-4-3-2-1 and over the PA, resonating around the Berkshire countryside the immortal words HAPPY CHRISTMAS errr New Year. This was quickly followed by Auld Lang Syne…no it wasn’t I made that up it was Michael Jackson’s Frosty the Snowman- it wasn’t long before the assistant manager had her laptop plugged in with an impressive collection of good music and Steph and Dave finally took to the floor. Working as I have on so many of International producer David King’s musical shows, with amazing dancers and wonderfully creative choreographers like Brian Rogers, Alan Harding, Gary Lloyd and Emma Rogers, I have picked up more than a few cool “moves”, sadly all in my dreams but we had a little bop until about 1am, when we were told by one of the staff, “when everyone has gone we will set up for breakfast” one simple way to get rid of everybody – they played two crappy clubbing tracks and that was it – LIGHTS ON and off to bed.

Countdowns will never be the same and next time I feed the ducks I will be warning them to beware of Pierre La Nobtête who eats them alive.
Happy New Year.

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