Go hard or go home: The hostess with the mostess

I feel it’s my duty, as their very own London tour guide, to take them to the yummiest restaurants, the funkiest bars and the most interesting museums.

Maybe it stems from my dream of writing for Lonely Planet, or maybe it’s because I just want them to love London as much as I do.

However, when my friend Court came to stay with me recently my plan of showing her London’s best-kept secrets didn’t go quite according to plan.

It all started well; my fool-proof instructions on buying an Oyster card and my directions on which tubes to catch and where from proved successful.

The first night was good; I knew a couple of wines at home and an early night would be key to ensuring Court was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for her first full day in London.

However, on the second night my ambitious plans began to turn pear-shaped.

I thought a cheap meal and drinks at a local pub with some of my mates would be a good idea.

It was a good idea and we were all having lots of fun. But when one of my housemates offered to buy Court her first snakebite, I cringed. That’s not what I had in mind.

The next thing we knew, hours had passed, the lights had been switched on and the bouncers were asking us (and later ordering us) to leave.

Then, on the way home one of my housemates tried to bust some moves on Court. Sadly for him, his efforts failed, but at the end of the day no harm was done.

I spent the following day at work staring blankly at my computer screen with a thumping headache, eating Krispy Kremes in a bid to stop myself falling asleep at my desk.

So when the day finally ended, instead of being the great host I’d wanted to be I went into my room and napped.

Fortunately, the next day was Saturday and the weekend offered a fresh chance to redeem myself.

Despite a few transport issues (thanks TFL) we headed down to the Southbank and enjoyed a ride on the London Eye before getting up close and personal with the stars at Madame Tussauds.

This day of touristy fun was due to be followed by a nice dinner and a few quiet cocktails in Soho.

But the Antipodean drinking gods had other plans.

After a couple of drinks at home, we found ourselves playing drinking games and eating Thai takeout on our couch in Acton.
Within hours we were jumping on a bus headed straight for The Walkabout where we proceeded to sing (or shout) You’re The Voice by Johnny Farnham at the top of our lungs before, once again, the lights were on and the bouncers were ushering us out the door.

But with every ruined plan ruined, there is a lesson to be learnt.

No matter where you are, it’s the people who turn a good time into a great time.

And if that involves singing along to some of the best pub anthems in an Aussie pub, despite being on the other side of the world, then so be it.

Read more of Shannon Crane’s Go Hard Or Go Home:

My new London family

Murphy’s Law

London is getting to me

Summer in London has left me a wreck