The parties I wish I'd gatecrashed

The Great Gatsby, Warner Bros (Picture: metro.co.uk)

The festive party season is officially in full swing. The concept of throwing a party is as old as time itself, bringing together potent combinations of friends, acquaintances, rivals and strangers for the sole purpose of pleasure and amusement, often with explosive results. 

That's why The Party often sets the scene for pivotal moments in history, literature, movies and of course every single episode of Gossip Girl, not to mention real life. Just imagine how many friendships and relationships have begun or ended at an office Christmas party or a wedding...

What makes (or breaks) a party?

The truly legendary parties are more than a sum of their parts; the guests, music, free drinks and frisson will only get you so far. The only thing really necessary for a good party is a good mood - check your inhibitions at the door together with your coat, otherwise a party will almost certainly fall flat.

Case in point: Truman Capote's famously lavish Black and White Masked Ball of 1966 brought together all of Hollywood, royalty, fashion, politics and the art world, and is nostalgically referred to as the Party of the Century. But how much fun did the herds of A-list guests really have? Was the Majarajah of Jaipur dancing on the tables with Sammy Davis Jnr.? Did Tennessee Williams watch the sunrise with Mia Farrow and Andy Warhol?

Er, apparently not. Despite its now mythical status, the actual gossip from that night seems to be fairly thin on the ground. There were no tales of dramatic showdowns, drunken debauchery or uninvited guests. The mood is said to have been bitchy and self-conscious, and despite Capote's loud protestations, Frank Sinatra and his cronies slipped out early in favour of a nearby bar - effectively shutting down the party.

Frank Sinatra and Mia Farrow at the Black and White Ball, Plaza Hotel, New York, 1966

Likewise, Gatsby's flashy New York parties of the roaring twenties may have been beautiful, but would they have been any fun? I'm not saying I'd have turned down a coveted invitation from the enigmatic Jay Gatsby, but behind his decadent garden parties, where "men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars”, there was... nothing much. Women who didn't know each other's names chattered away falsely over cocktails, husbands flirted around while their wives hissed in their ears, and all the while, Gatsby kept himself isolated from the action, barely recognised by his own guests.

But sometimes, for whatever reason, all the elements just come together to form the Perfect Storm of Parties, creating something that will be talked about for years. Here's what went down at the parties I wish I'd crashed... 

The Mad Hatters Tea Party

Alice in Wonderland (2010),Walt Disney/Tim Burton

Where else but Wonderland could you find yourself at a trippy tea party with a Mad Hatter, a March Hare and a Dormouse? Well, quite a few places dotted around London these days - including the Sanderson Hotel which runs a signature Mad Hatters Afternoon Tea, complete with 'Eat Me' labels, lollipops that turn your mouth from hot to cold, and multicoloured sandwiches. However the original literary version remains the most random and brilliant, inverting the traditional social convention of 'taking tea' into something curiously psychedelic.

The Great Cheese Party of 1837

In 1837, the President of the USA took out a newspaper advert inviting members of the public to come to the White House and share his 1,400 pound wheel of cheddar. The result was a feeding frenzy.

A year previously, a New York farmer had presented President Jackson with the giant cheese, which weighed the equivalent of 10 x Barack Obamas (probably). Jackson let the cheese age for more than a year in the White House, before holding the Great Cheese Party just before he left office. It was said you could smell cheese from half a mile in every direction from the White House; quite the legacy for his successor.

Ten thousand people swarmed to the White House for a slice of the action. Two hours later, all that remained of the cheese were the crumbs that had been ground into the carpet and smeared on the silk curtains. 

Why Cheese Day hasn't turned into an annual American holiday is beyond me. Sounds like a brie-lliant excuse for a party! (sorry).

The Hangover

The Hangover (2009), Warner Bros

When an evening begins with the ominous toast: "To a night we'll never forget," you're just asking for trouble. But luckily for Bradley Cooper et al, it turns out that pulling out your own tooth and stealing a tiger from Mike Tyson can actually have a life affirming effect on your friendships and relationships.  

Every group has it's own 'Alan'. If you think yours doesn't, it's probably you. But don't worry; the ultimate loose canon Alan was the reason that this particular Vegas stag do has come to define a generation and is now the yardstick by which we measure the epicness of all parties - despite none of us actually witnessing it. The less you remember of a party, and the more random props/animals that turn up the morning after, the more successful it surely was.

Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens

Image from vauxhallgardens.com

Its hard to believe that ugly SE11 was once home to the most famous and hedonistic pleasure gardens ever seen in this country, as described in Thackeray's Vanity Fair. 

Every weekend, 18th century socialites, peasants and celebrity courtesans alike were able to pay the small entry fee into Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, a grown-up playground of delights which hosted masquerades, circus performers, fireworks and even hot air balloon launches. 

The main promenades were lit by thousands of oil lamps, but it was most notorious for the dark and plentiful nooks and crannies in the shrubbery, where all manner of naughtiness ensued.

The gardens lost their sparkle in the mid 19th century when they became known for crime, prostitution and seediness and eventually were forced to close. These days, all that remains of the gardens is a sad and unremarkable little park in built-up Vauxhall; a hangover from its glorious heyday.

Netherfield Ball, Pride and Prejudice

Jane Austen's Regency Balls, despite the formalities, were surprisingly sexually charged; a ball would have been the only place a man and a woman could make physical contact in public, not to mention the fact that eligible men were tasked to dance with as many women as they possibly could. Romantic sparks must have been flying around the room left right and centre.

And Jane Austen doesn't disappoint at Netherfield Ball in Pride and Prejudice. The highlight of the evening came after Elizabeth had been cornered by the repellent Mr Collins for the first two dances, only to be dumbfounded when sulky Mr Darcy, who had rejected her at the Meryton Ball, asks her for the next dance. 

The visible spark between the pair gave fellow guests plenty to 'OMG' about the next day and has done wonders for men everywhere who, like Darcy, aren't quite the life and soul of the party. Instead of being written off as party poopers, they have been rebranded as the mysterious heroes, quietly smouldering in the corner and rescuing you from dancing with creepy men.

'Parents are out of town' teen parties

10 Things I Hate About You (1999), Touchstone Pictures

Finally, how could I write about parties without mentioning the keg-fuelled teen blow-outs that define all American coming-of-age movies? 

In my school, these orgies of destruction were practically forced upon all those foolish enough to let slip that their parents were out of town; it was your time, nay, your duty to step up to the mark and take one for the team. 

In my eyes, the archtype of a teen house party is Bogey Lowenstein's party in 10 Things I Hate About You, where the entire school crashes a geek's cheese and wine evening and turns it into the crazy party of the year - but in hindsight our Sixth Form equivalent was probably something closer to an episode of the Inbetweeners. The Last of our House Parties resulted in a cake sale in the common room to fund the damage to the house - Mum stopped going away so much after that, and the party, it seemed, was officially over.

Merry Christmas!

Thanks for reading and good luck surviving the party season! After all, there aint no party like a Christmas party. If I've missed one of your favourite all-time fictional or historical parties, please add your comments below.

Sometimes we all need to escape

Over the last six months, I have blogged about how to escape. From secret speakeasies to immersive cinema, London is an escapist's playground. But what I haven't mentioned until now is why to escape.

When asked what my blog is about and I reply with 'escapism', I usually get one of two reactions; either someone instantly gets it, their eyes light up and they say 'Ooh you should write about ….'. (Please keep this coming!).

Or they look at me like a sympathetic therapist and say, 'But what are you escaping from?'

Humans have always felt the need to escape, and over the centuries this has taken many forms; Roman gladiator fights, Shakespearean romps at the Globe, hippy communes and happy hours.

True, escapism can have darker connotations; drug addicts, spendaholics and fantasists are prime examples of escapism gone a bit wrong. And our current rose-tinted nostalgia for bygone eras and the 'good old days' does beg the question, 'What's wrong with the here and now?'

But I also wonder what's so virtuous about gritty realism? If we lived only in reality, and expanded our minds no further than our immediate surroundings and daily routines, how would anyone ever conjure up the imagination to write music, to dream up Narnia and Hogwarts, to build a spaceship or even to challenge their current situations and dream of a better way of doing things? Life would be very dull indeed.

The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe (Walt Disney Pictures, 2005)

The importance of escapism should never be underestimated. Having worked in the hospice sector for nearly four years, I've seen first hand how seemingly small pleasures like learning to paint, going to the seaside or enjoying a favourite childhood meal can make the biggest difference to someone in the most difficult circumstances of all.

My own interest in escapism admittedly started as a result of a broken heart, when my friends rallied round, making sure I was never alone and filling my calendar with fun and diverting activities. And although now, thankfully, everything seems to be ticking along quite nicely, I'm still nurturing my escapist state of mind.

This doesn't have to mean you are dissatisfied with your own life; I think it's about living in the here and now whilst opening your eyes to the everyday moments of magic that are all around us. It's about embracing everything that's not sensible, realistic, rational or mundane, and not getting bogged down by the necessities.

In short, escapism keeps you sane. The trick is to enjoy 'bite-sized' pieces of harmless escapism, just enough to take the edge off real life without retreating to another world altogether.

Having had a very real, very sad last few weeks as our beautiful Granny slipped away from us, perhaps unsurprisingly I've struggled to get into that mentality where I want to write about fun little diversions.

But then I remember that Granny herself was somehow both hilariously pragmatic and a born escapist; she travelled, she laughed, she read, she bet on horses, she drank before lunchtime and she fell in love (usually with “big men with little brains”, in the words of my great aunt).

So in memory of Granny, I have chosen a few quotes to help me – and anyone else who might need an emergency dose of escapism – to recapture the magic in everyday life.

Night Sky by Babak Tafreshi, from telegraph.co.uk

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” - Oscar Wilde

“The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it.” ― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan 

“What I’ve found does the most good is just to get into a taxi and go to Tiffany’s. It calms me down right away, the quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there, not with those kind men in their nice suits, and that lovely smell of silver and alligator wallets.”

― Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany's

Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961)

“If a soldier is imprisoned by the enemy, don't we consider it his duty to escape?. . .If we value the freedom of mind and soul, if we're partisans of liberty, then it's our plain duty to escape, and to take as many people with us as we can!” - JRR Tolkien

"One of the very nicest things about life is the way we must regularly stop whatever it is we are doing and devote our attention to eating." - Luciano Pavarotti

"Some movies are slices of life, mine are slices of cake." - Alfred Hitchcock

“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.”
― Roald Dahl

“Ah, music! A magic far beyond all we do here!” - Albus Dumbledore

“Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination.” - Oscar Wilde

And finally, for those worrying about the escapist's hangover, whoever said that coming back down to earth couldn't be part of the fun...?

Felix Baumgartner's leap from space, from telegraph.co.uk

Grease was the word, Barnes was the place

The cut-throat world of the American high school is something of a second home for the ladies of my generation, having grown up on Saved by the Bell, Clueless and Mean Girls. But for most of us, our initiation into the world of Californian jocks and cheerleaders began in our formative years, with the one and only Grease.

There was therefore something very familiar about Future Cinema’s spectacular and interactive outdoor screening of the classic musical, which saw Barnes Common being completely transformed into the iconic Rydell High for the weekend.

From TNTmagazine.com

The greasy scent of burgers, candy floss, hairspray and motor oil was in the air, as nine thousand fans formed a sea of black leather and pink satin at this all-singing, all-dancing festival of nostalgia, organised by the team behind the acclaimed 'Secret Cinema'.

No detail went unnoticed and no expense was spared in the meticulous re-creation of Greaseland. It was all here; the vintage cars, Frenchy’s pyjama party, the school hall dance-off, Frosty’s Place Diner and even a Ferris wheel from which to gleefully shout, ‘I’m not pregnant!’

We were completely immersed in this alternate universe from the moment we walked in and were greeted by an all-American football coach: “Welcome back to Rydell girls, have a good year!”

We were then accosted by the excitable Pattie herself: “Oh my god I LOVE the first day of school, don’t you? Are you coming to cheerleader try outs? Can you spell Caribbean? Oh my god, you CAN? You HAVE to join the spelling team!”

By the time we’d grabbed a quick mac’n’cheese and some popcorn, and been on the receiving end of some killer lines that Danny Zuko himself would have been proud of (“Hey beautiful, I got something else you can put in your mouth...”), I could almost have believed I was genuinely a teenager at a 1950s pep rally.

After a couple of hours soaking up the school spirit, the summer day had drifted away and turned into a very autumnal night - I had chills, and they were multiplying.

Fortunuately, once the film started, we were up on our feet so often that we warmed up in no time. During key musical numbers, Future Cinema's team of actors burst onto the stage in front of the screen and taught the whole audience the moves (I'm proud to say I can now add the Hand Jive to my repertoire).

When the credits rolled, and the excitable crowd of T-Birds and Pink Ladies poured back out into the streets of suburban West London singing 'We Go Together', I felt totally uplifted, nostalgic and, well, young.

Despite appearances, there are unlikely parallels between my experience of a bog-standard Suffolk upper school and the glossier, more glamourous world of '50s Rydell High. Yes, in Hollywood, the kids all look like they’re in their 30s, people randomly burst into song and the school buses are distinctly yellower - but the cliques and geeks, the sadistic sports coaches, the sleepovers, the style faux pas, the crushes, and the unwritten rules of who sits where at lunch, are universal.

I've seen Grease countless times, but never got so much enjoyment from it as I did on that chilly night in Barnes. I can't wait to see what Future Cinema brings to life next.

An evening at Evans & Peel Detective Agency

www.evansandpeel.com

I've never been good with secrets so I've wrestled with my conscience over this one. I'm desperate to tell everyone about my amazing experience at Evans & Peel Detective Agency, but the whole appeal of the venue in question is its secrecy. But like any good detective writer, I'll try to give you enough detail to pique your interest without spoiling the mystery...

Our story begins at Evans & Peel, a curiously dark speakeasy on Earls Court Road, which was quietly recommended to me by a reliable informant (who we shall call Grum). The agency harks back to the golden age of 'whodunnits' - think Sherlock Holmes, Poirot and The 39 Steps. But unlike many trendier speakeasies, Evans & Peel is warm, authentic, dramatic and, above all, fun.

The experience is underway from the moment you book your 'appointment' with Detective Peel. He replied to my email asking me to call the agency so they can proceed with my 'case' (brilliantly, the email was signed off with 'Sent from my Gramophone').

This affectionate humour and attention to detail runs throughout the Evans & Peel experience, which is from beginning to end a loving tribute to the classic 1920s and 1930s crime mysteries.

The office: image from www.missimmyslondon.com

On arrival, ring the doorbell, make a few shifty glances and - when you're sure you're not being watched - slip inside incognito. As you descend into a Cluedo-esque world of flickering light bulbs, gramophone music, typewriters, blood red wallpaper and drawers full of liquor, the dashing Detective Peel awaits in his office, ready to question you about your 'case', so be ready to improvise; the more elaborate the tale, the better!

In fact, if you're with a group and someone is running late, why not have a bit of fun with them and inform Detective Peel that this latecomer is a prime suspect in your case...? After a grilling from the Detective, you can be sure your unsuspecting companion won't keep you waiting next time. Once Detective Peel is satisfied, he will whisk you with a magical flourish into a large and atmospheric bar, which will be your home for the evening.

The bar: image from www.missimmyslondon.com

Here, you will be taken care of with old-fashioned service from charming waiters, who would have you believe there is no greater pleasure in life than to serve you their bespoke and delectable vintage cocktails. My highlight was the A&T, a quintessentially English concoction made with gin which has been hand-infused with Earl Grey and lavender.

The establishment requires that you order food with your cocktails, to get around a licensing restriction - but with mouthwatering American style tapas dishes on offer including a smokey Waldorf salad, macaroni cheese, tender pulled pork sliders and simply delicious crunchy wedges, having to order a few bites from the menu is no hardship whatsoever.

Once you have solved your case, you are free to depart the agency, but please remember to refrain from dilly-dallying and drawing unnecessary attention to the doorway on your way out. A visit to Evans &  Peel Detective Agency should be clothed in secrecy, so it's important not to give the game away.... Oh.

I've said too much already. Whether you're planning a clandestine date or a big birthday celebration, or if you simply need to catch a wayward villain, all you need to know is this:

Evans & Peel
310c Earls Court Road
London
SW5 9BA
Telephone:  020 7373 3573

detective@evansandpeel.com

London in the Movies

Mary Poppins (1964), Walt Disney

London is an iconic, sprawling film set, where hundreds of great loves have been born, dark crimes have been hidden, adventures have began and stars have left their footsteps. Turn any corner in the city and you could be struck by an overwhelming sense of deja vu as you find yourself in a strangely familar spot, transported into a childhood fantasy or a cult classic.

As I wander around London, I often feel like I'm in a film. Looking out of the window over London's rooftops on a misty evening still always reminds me of Peter Pan. The dark cobbled alleyways around Grays Inn Road, near my offices, are evocative of the shadowy Victorian lairs of Oliver Twist. Even rush hour tube journeys have a certain novelty - if I miss a train, I sometimes wonder if that might have had a Sliding Doors effect on the course of my life.

Peter Pan (1953), Walt Disney

So on a sunny Saturday morning, my companion and I, who share a mutual love of romantic comedies, Harry Potter and musicals, could think of nothing lovelier than to take ourselves on a tour of London's movie locations.

We left my friend's flat in Waterloo and began our journey on the South Bank, where Hugh Grant famously said, in the words of David Cassidy, 'I think I love you' (Four Weddings and a Funeral).

Harry Potter 

Dark clouds appeared from nowhere and loomed ominously as we crossed the Millennium Bridge, creating that 'disaster movie' sensation of the calm before the storm. It felt, for a moment, as though the Dementors were coming.

Thankfully, we reached the other side of the bridge, unlike the poor Muggles in the scene from Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, when the Death Eaters destroy it during a rampage through central London.

Once safely north of the river, we spied Australia House on The Strand, which moonlights as the setting of the wizarding bank, Gringotts, in the films. And of course an embarrassing photo at Platform 9 3/4 in King's Cross Station is also a must for any self-respecting Potter geek in London.

On my way to Hogwarts

Sweeney Todd: Demon Barber of Fleet Street

Although now interspersed with branches of Starbucks and Pret, many of the old, crooked establishments on Fleet Street are still reminiscent of Tim Burton's atmospheric musical Sweeney Todd. The film tells the story of murderous Johnny Depp as the demon barber who fills neighbouring Mrs Lovett's homemade pies with his victims' remains.

With this in mind, as we neared the end of Fleet Street, I was alarmed to see a Wagamama directly underneath a dodgy looking barber shop. Maybe stick to the vegetarian options if you ever decide to eat there...

Eek!

Mary Poppins

As we approached the steps of St Paul's Cathedral, where a melancholy old lady feeds the pigeons after dark in Mary Poppins, the heavens opened in true chick flick style. This rather scuppered our plans to 'feed the birds' as Julie Andrews sung in the film, as they all flew away, unimpressed with the soggy bread on offer. (This must be why Disney decided to film the whole thing in a California studio).

A gorgeous day to re-live Mary Poppins

The roof terrace on top of next-door shopping centre One New Change is the perfect place to gaze upon St Paul's and over the rooftops of the City. If you look closely, you might even spot a few Cockney chimney sweeps in the distance leaping around Dick Van Dyke style... maybe.

However in what had become a dramatic thunder and lightning storm, with rain launching itself at us from all angles, a rooftop was perhaps an unwise choice. Looking more like drowned rats than rain soaked heroines, we quickly decided the credits had rolled on our day of movie fun and we retreated indoors for a large glass of wine.

Notting Hill 

There are still enough classic film locations to warrant at least another day of exploring, particularly in the pretty-as-a-picture village of Notting Hill. (Yes, that'll be Hugh Grant again - still being wheeled out for any London-based romantic comedy). The Travel Bookshop from the movie has sadly closed down, but you can still spend a leisurely afternoon looking for the little house with the blue door, and peering into the communal gardens where Hugh and Julia Roberts shared their first kiss.

These pretty streets are also the romantic setting for one of my favourite scenes from Love Actually, when Andrew Lincoln brings his signs over to Keira Knightley's house and tells her he loves her, 'without hope or agenda'. This scene was filmed in St Luke's Mews in Notting Hill and is one of those locations that feels just as magical in real life.

Love Actually (2003), Universal Pictures / Studio Canal / Working Title

However Walt Disney discovered the joys of this area long before Richard Curtis, in the classic Bedknobs and Broomsticks. A real life jaunt down Portobello Road would be so much more fun if only life was a musical...

Not The End...

Thousands of tales have been told about London town, and it would take a lifetime to experience them all. I've not even mentioned the gritty East End stomping grounds of Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, the mysterious temples of The Da Vinci Code, the Elizabethan theatres of Shakespeare in Love, or the elegant parks of Finding Neverland.

Ticking them off is a great way to explore the city, but rather than trying to cram it all into a day, I think I'll try to experience the rest one at a time, saving each one for when I am feeling a bit jaded and most in need of some movie magic.

Feel Good London (or things that make you say 'Aaw')

Image from streetpianos.com

Don't believe the naysayers; we're not all rude, overworked, passive aggressive cynics, tutting and elbowing each other on public transport. The spectacular opening ceremony for London 2012 has ushered in a new mood of friendly optimism in the capital. 

London is full to the brim of feel-good, cute, heart-warming and magical moments, if you look hard enough. Here are just a few of my highlights...

1. Play the piano  

Street Pianos, Leicester Square. (Image from madsilence.wordpress.com)

Chances are you might have already spotted one of these friendly looking pianos somewhere in London this summer, each one handpainted with the instructions, 'Play me, I'm yours'.

From Holland Park and Marble Arch, to Liverpool Street Station and the Gherkin, wherever you are in London, you are never far away from your very own 'street piano'.

Pensioners, kids, city workers, night time revellers, wannabe buskers and high street shoppers have all been spotted taking some time out to tinkle the ivories, much to the surprise and delight of passers by.

According to the artist Luke Jerram, the Street Pianos project brings together invisible communities in London. People who might pass each other every day without a word now might just have a reason to stop for five minutes, smile, listen and sing with strangers. 

Still dubious? Check out the group performance of Hey Jude in Soho...

2. Dog watching in Battersea Park

People-watching is overrated, bird-watching even more so. But dog watching? That's a thing.

As locals take their mutts on their Sunday morning walks in parks across the city, you can enjoy a cross-section of doggy London. Noble old labradors, pampered pugs, scruffy terriers and clumsy spaniels come out in full force for their daily scamper. It's impossible not to smile as they joyfully run, leap and frolic around as though they're in Disneyland.

Dogs are the ultimate ice-breakers. I am like a moth to a flame when I see a cute dog, try as I might, I can't stop myself from going and saying hello in a ridiculous voice. And it's another of those rare but marvellous situations when Londoners really don't think it's weird to be spoken to by a stranger.

3. Tributes to selflessness at Postman's Park

Tucked away in an unremarkable little park near St Paul's Cathedral, the lives of extra-ordinary people are immortalised in a beautiful way. Under an easily overlooked canopy in the corner of Postman's Park, surrounded by office blocks, are fifty Art Nouveau tiles embossed with the stories of people who have tragically died while saving the life of another.

These are not the tales of generals or officers - just ordinary Victorian civilians who gave the ultimate sacrifice. Reading their stories doesn't feel morbid or macabre. Instead, a quiet hour browsing the tributes - each with fascinating insights and flashes of detail like paraffin lamps and runaway horses - takes you back in time to Victorian London and introduces you to the Herberts, Marys and Godfreys whose heroism time might otherwise have forgotten.

4. Support the old family-run places in your area

Marine Ices, Chalk Farm (Image from ninaicecream.co.uk)

In a city full of self-consciously rustic and quirky establishments with distinctly modern price tags, it's rare and wonderful when you discover the real thing. Every neighbourhood has them, Fawlty Towers style operations where the decor hasn't changed for at least 20 years and retro classic dishes are served without a trace of irony. 

Marine Ices in Chalk Farm, the oldest ice-cream parlour in London, is a family-run Italian, which couldn't look more dated if it tried - but the great thing is it's not trying, at all. Where else in London can you still get a proper Knickerbocker Glory? Plus, your granddad would approve of the generous ratio of prices to portions. 

London is still just a collection of villages, really, and despite their dwindling numbers, there is a total feel-good factor to finding and supporting your local independent greasy spoons, dusty bookshops, barber shops and butchers. You know you're winning when the start asking if you want your 'usual'.

5. Read the Metro Good Deed Feed 

Let it never be said that chivalry is dead. As long as accident-prone women keep leaving things on public transport, there will always be good deeds in London.

I have a dark green cashmere scarf from Zara that has been on adventures and misadventures across the world, and continues to find it's way back to me, like a trusty homing pigeon. My faithful scarf has been left at the Royal Festival Hall, on the pavement, at a lunchtime disco, even in Germany - but I've always managed to retrieve it thanks to kind people handing it in to lost property.

Now, we finally have a way of thanking these honest folk. If a fellow Londoner has ever paid your bus fare, lent you a tissue, ran after you when you've left cash at an ATM, or given you their cab, simply text into Metro's Good Deed Feed and let them know they made  your day.

If however your hero is a hottie, you may however prefer to text into Rush Hour Crush, another of Metro's new feel-good reader columns. (It's like a less pervy version of Tube Crush).

6. Receiving a free meal in Pret

Image from photographersdirect.com

I got let off paying for my Monday morning Pret a Manger breakfast a few weeks ago, in a confusing encounter. The till assistant just mumbled, 'Don't worry about it', and then served the person behind me. I must have looked hungry. 

I did feel a bit like a thief... but not enough to insist on paying (a free ham, mozzarella and tomato croissant and mocha tastes even better than usual). But apparently I’m not special – the same thing recently happened to my friend at work in a completely different part of London, and upon further discussion, we uncovered an urban legend that every London branch gives a free meal out every single day!

Whether this is a) true, or b) heartwarming is debatable. It could of course be a myth or a cynical marketing ploy circulated by the company to encourage loyal custom. But who cares? Free food simply brightens up my day.

Today I am .. Queen Granny

That Queen's getting a lot of attention at the moment isn't she? Not that I resent it (two days off? Thanks very much!). But this Jubilee, let's also celebrate the real 'diamond' old ladies in our own lives, who are all too often invisible in our youth-obsessed society.

If you could peek inside the minds of our elders, their living memories would, to us, resemble a nostalgic period drama - youthful versions of themselves inhabiting a world peppered with vintage cars, 1940s tea dresses, black and white movies and dance halls. If you are looking for escapism, just ask someone over 80 years old to describe their first date or what their favourite tipple was. The answers will take you back to another era.

So while we all rightly mark the 60 year reign of Elizabeth II, I will also be raising a glass to my very own Queen and grandmother, who is still amusing, offending and delighting people at 94.

Anne Rosselli was born in 1918. (1918!!). The last year of the First World War, six years after Titanic sank. She, and her brothers and sisters, couldn't have even imagined what the century ahead would hold; the jazz age, another war, the loose morals of the swinging sixties. No-one had heard of Elvis, Marilyn and The Beatles. All of this and more was yet to come.

Granny's own childhood memories of 1920s Ireland are prime material for a romantic novel, telling the story of four young siblings living in a crumbling ancestral home during the Irish Civil War. She still talks about having to row across the lake with her sisters to the next village, and hiding the silver under her bed when the house was raided. It must have been a colourful household, with three strong-willed teenage girls and their brother running riot in the little sailing village.

On my 21st birthday, I always remember what she wrote in my card: "How wonderful to be 21 - I wish I was again."

I love the thought of Anne Waller, 20-something, my own age. By all accounts, she was far more glamourous and beautiful. She certainly seemed popular with the local men in her hometown in Tipperary, who describe her as 'prettier than Grace Kelly' and still all claim to have been her boyfriend. There are ongoing rumours that Granny ran away on a motorbike with member of the Russian aristocracy; when pressed, all she will say is, "We didn't get very far."

Nowadays, Granny seems shocked by her age, as though she doesn't recognise herself anymore; on her last birthday she exclaimed incredulously, "I'm ridiculously old!" She is almost 100% deaf and we rely on a notepad and lipreading to converse, but talking to her about her youth doesn't just immerse my mother, sister and I in another world - it also helps Granny to reaffirm her identity. In these stories she is young, feisty Anne, as she remembers and knows herself, not just an elderly woman.

And there are plenty of tales to tell. After attending Trinity University in Dublin, she became a Fanny (don't laugh) during the War, driving ambulances despite having no license. During the 1940s and '50s, she was married to a tea planter in Ceylon and Malaya, where she painted stunning watercolours of the surrounding jungle and dabbled in racing cars ("I was the fastest woman in Malaya", she claims). She tells a terrifying story about time she discovered a poisonous snake in my uncle's cot.

After that marriage ended and she returned home, she caused quite the scandal with her choice of second husband - my grandpa; a cheeky Anglo-Italian who was 11 years her junior, an incurable practical joker and eligible man about town. They moved to a farm in the Fens and made quite the pair for the remainder of the century.

These days, she's more Prince Philip than the Queen, frequently making inappropriate comments and informing people they've got terribly fat. Watching an old lady nobly hobble from one end of the silent hospital ward to another, Granny loudly declared from her bed, "I can walk better than her!"

And like the second and third generations of Rosselli ladies, my granny still has a weakness for a broad-shouldered rugby player. Last Easter, we had an exceptionally tall, well-built young American friend joining us for lunch; Granny stared wide-eyed at him over the roast lamb, leaned towards my sister and I and conspirationally asked, "Who's that?", before taking another look and announcing "VERY nice!"

She's also nothing if not generous, constantly giving away her Christmas gifts, and insisting her visitors take a shot of whisky (which she naughtily hides in her wardrobe from the staff in her care home, like Marilyn's character 'Sugar' in Some Like it Hot). Last month, she enquired as to when I was bringing my boyfriend over to visit, and I wrote on her notepad that I don't have a boyfriend - she paused for a moment and then said brightly, "Well you can have one of mine!" Now there's an offer I can't refuse.

So this Diamond Jubilee weekend, while we're all enjoying delightfully retro street parties, afternoon teas and '50s themed club nights, remember that the real vintage queens are still all around us. A conversation with the older ladies in your life might just enrich both your lives and transport you to another world entirely.

Today I am ... my fancy dress alter-ego

Image: Gossip Girl, cwtv.com

Fancy dress is no longer just a pastime for seven year-olds; as times get tougher, more and more people feel the temptation to withdraw from humdrum reality and become someone else for the night.

I always think the best nights are when you feel as though anything could happen; from Freshers Week ice-breakers to debauched masquerades, outlandish costumes have the power to make you feel uninhibited and anonymous, transforming a great party into an unforgettable one.

Here are my top five fancy dress alter-egos from the last few years...

1. Victorian courtesan: Belle Epoque Party, London, Halloween 2011

 

Image: Victorian courtesan Carolina La Belle Otero, from halloftheblackdragon.com

I wore a steel-boned corset for the first time at London's hedonistic Belle Epoque party, and it was a revelation. As soon as I was laced into the borrowed 'Cadbury purple' corset, I felt like Dita Von Teese on a night out in bohemian Montmartre. It was my waist, but not as I knew it. (Breathing schmeathing...)

Add to this a bustling, black lace skirt from Burleska Boutique in Stables Market, Camden, a beaded choker, fingerless lace gloves and a fascinator, and I was ready to dance with the green fairy all evening. The final accessory? A glass of absinthe, served in the traditional Moulin Rouge fashion with a sugar cube and spoon.

2. German beermaid: Bavarian Beerhouse Old Street / Winter Wonderland / a London Tube Station Party, 2010-12

Image: Bavarian Beerhouse, Old Street, from bavarian-beerhouse.co.uk

Prost! Choosing a Germain beermaid costume for a birthday party at the Bavarian Beerhouse in Old Street may have been misjudged given that the bar was full of lairy frat boys, and waitresses in identical outfits. Cue an onslaught of sausage inneundoes, revellers stopping me and asking for rounds of Jaegermeisters, and an impromptu table-top dance off with a rugby team.

Nevertheless, my bavarian alter-ego has served me well, with appearances at Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park and a Tube Station themed house party in Clapham (as 'Maida Vale').

3. The Virgin Mary: Suffolk, Christmas Eve 2011

 

Those familiar with high school movies of the early noughties will recall the Mean Girls 'Slut Rule' of fancy dress ("Halloween is the one night of the year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything. The hardcore girls just wear underwear and some form of animal ears").

However that rule is now liberally applied to Christmas as well (how long until Easter?), and 'Sexy Santa' has become the ubiquitous Christmas fancy dress costume of choice in recent years.

Last Christmas Eve however, I had something rather more virginal in mind. After years of losing out on the role to other girls in our primary school Nativity plays, I was finally going to be Mary.

To create the baby Jesus, I purchased a plastic baby doll and an 'it's my birthday' badge, and fashioned some swaddling from a pillow case. I wore a blue Grecian style dress and long blue scarf over my head, and carried my baby Jesus around like a bizarre clutch bag. 

One or two bleary eyed partygoers were downright horrified, thinking I had actually brought my real life baby on a raucous night out in DeNiros, which holds the dubious honour of being 'Suffolk's biggest nightclub'. That poor baby Jesus has seen some terrible sights... 

4. Medeival king: Halloween party, Newcastle, 2007

 

In hindsight, we should have known better than to turn up at a fancy dress shop on Halloween afternoon on the day of our house party. Between my housemates and I, we scraped the fancy dress barrel and accepted whatever was left in the shop - which included an M&M, a nun and a medieval king.

I drew what was arguably the short straw (my friend the M&M may beg to differ), and donned the hooded crown and long sleeved, full-length red robe with white fur trim, complete with a regal staff/poking device.

It may not have been my first choice, but I nobly took on my kingly duties and had a royally good time. Long Live the King.

5. Geisha: 'Around the world' party, Newcastle, 2008

 

A pale face stands out like a beacon in Newcastle, where any self-respecting Geordies - male or female - are bronzed to perfection at all times (the sun always shines in Whitley Bay).

So I was greeted with confusion and concern on an 'around the world' themed university reunion, as I entered Tiger Tiger with a face as porcelain-white as a snowy morning. I may have lacked the grace and serenity of a true geisha, but I completed the illusion with jet black liquid eyeliner and bright red lips, a floral black and red dress, and a beautiful parasol that my friend had brought back from Japan. Miraculously, my 'giant cocktail umbrella' even made it home with me.

So what's next? 

 

Image: 1940s Dance, from msasuperfunweekend.com

Firmly on my to-do list are the Blitz Party in Shoreditch, for a night of 'swing bands, sand bags and glad rags', and the Gatsby-esque Prohibition Party to recapture the illicit pleasures of 1920s speakeasies...

And if there's ever an occasion to wear this rather fetching 'man-eating shark' costume from the recently resurrected fancy dress shop at Clapham Junction, I'm there.

Image: Man-eating shark, from partysuperstores.com