Newcastle's surprise

Last weekend was the birthday of a couple of my friends, and to celebrate, we headed up to Newcastle, in the North, for a weekend of sight-seeing, eating and partying. Our group was 20 strong and we traveled up via train Friday after work, filled with energy and excitement. On Friday night, a smaller group of us went out for a few drinks and some dancing while the others went of to visit other friends they had in the area. The six of us that stayed together had a riot of a time, and properly enjoyed our first night in Newcastle.

Saturday, we re-convened for brunch and then the boys took off to watch the rugby in the pub and us ladies went out to explore the town. Despite being a party destination, Newcastle is actually quite a lovely place. The Tyne river runs through the city and provides some nice areas to walk along the quay. We wandered past very old buildings just beside brand new modern ones and stopped for tea at a nice restaurant just beside the Millennium bridge. It was a great way to spend an afternoon. After our little tea, we headed back to the hotel for power naps and then to get ready for our big night out.

Now, before leaving London, I'd been given strict instructions about what one should wear when going out in Newcastle:
1. a very short skirt
2. lots of cleavage is also good
3. no nylons
4. no jacket
5. very high heels
6. big hair
Baring in mind that it's February, and the North of England is not a warm place, I assumed that instructions 3 and 4 were reserved for the summer months, and that 1 and 2 were mutually exclusive, that i was meant to choose on or the other. Since number 6 isn't really a possibility for me, I decided to disregard all advice and dress comfortably and classy, as did my other London friends. Boy did we stand out! The women in Newcastle must be super human in there ability to head outside in minus 7 degrees practically naked and not freeze. The skirts barely covered girls bums and their shoes looked like broken ankles waiting to happen. It was amazing. Luckily for us, there is strength in numbers, so a group of well dressed, jacket wearing, warm London ladies headed out to meet the boys for dinner.

We went to a great tapas restaurant, which was pack full with people having their pre-party dinner. We order loads of food to share and plenty of wine to go around and had a fantastic time, all 20 of us. At the end of the meal, one of the boys grabbed a candle and started singing Happy Birthday to our two birthday girls. We all joined in and had a good laugh. That's when the fun began. Another guy we were with pointed to our Welsh friend and said 'this time, in Welsh!' and the group was led in a Welsh rendition of the famous birthday song. Once the Welsh round was over, the Welshman pointed to our Kiwi friend and said 'this time in Maori!' and once again we all broke out in song, led by our New Zealander friend, who happened to be sat next to me...

And it was my turn next. The Kiwi looked at me and said 'this time, in Opera!'. Oh god. I hesitated for just a moment, but then decided, why not? And burst into 'Tanti Aguri' in my full operatic voice.

Apparently, no one in Newcastle has ever heard an opera singer before. Up until that point, we'd been successfully annoying our neighbouring tables, and they were trying the best to drown out our noise. When I started singing, the restaurant was at a stand still. Every table stopped eating and turned to see who was making all that racket. People at the back of the room were standing up to see where the music was coming from, and my friends were snickering with delight.
When the song finished, the room erupted with cheers. Geordie boys were whooping and everyone was just a little bit stunned. It was incredible. I've never felt cooler to be a trained opera singer then I was that night. My friends couldn't stop talking about how amazing I was and loved how much attention we all got as a result. It was a real win for me, and likely something the will take Newcastle some time to forget.