A Member's Club for Non-Members

If you've ever had a the pleasure of dining at the Oak in Notting Hill and tasting one of the best truffle pizzas in all of London, then you've probably made it upstairs to their super duper exclusive-looking lounge, with its super duper non-exclusive door policy.

Upstairs at the Oak looks like my non-existent rich aunty's uber-luxurious Chelsea mansion-style living room, which for some strange reason ended up on the top floor of a pizza restaurant. Last night, I had the pleasure of taking a friend there for a warm and cozy glass of Sangiovese, some split pea puree with flatbreads and roasted aubergine tapas on the side. After far too many glasses of wine and far too much conversation, we both realized that the lights had come on and it was time to go home. I always hated being that last person at a bar or a party - it always makes me feel like a bit of a loser (moi, loseuhr?). So needless to say, we were having a good time.

And a good time it was. Sitting way too comfortably on an velvety sofa, occasionally staring at an old blurry (or was that just my eyesight gone awry) painting of some unknown white-haired/white-bearded 18th century nobleman, hiccupping through 3 glasses of wine and munching away on some delicious home-cooked style Italian tapas, we forgot to leave. 
Personal note #1: get the hint - if you're still lounging around at a bar when the lights go on, you've probably overstayed your presence. Personal note #2: get the hint - if you're still sipping on wine when the lights go on, you'll probably feel as flimsy as I do today. Personal note #3: Have a great day, zesties!