You. Are. Gold.

Last week, we went for a night out with some people from Steven's work, courtesy of one of their printers. It was the first time I've ever been to a works do as someone's partner, so that was nice enough in itself. But to add the cherry to the proverbial cake, we were going to a Gold Class cinema screening. Do they have this in London? I don't remember hearing about it. Basically, it's a smallish cinema screen but instead of the normal rows of seats, you get posh versions of those Chandler 'n Joey style recliner seats, arranged in pairs round small tables. Eight of us went, and we took up an entire row. (And there were only three other rows.) The tables are important, because it is there the waiters place the goodies you ordered beforehand. The ice-cream tubs come on a saucer. With a folded napkin. And a real tea-spoon. The Maltesers come in a proper bowl. (Most commendable as it eliminates rustling.) The beer comes cold and the coffee comes hot. And you get to choose exactly when it arrives. This could actually get a bit annoying, as there's a bit of a stream of waiters bringing stuff, so you wouldn't want to see a good movie there. Luckily, we were seeing The Da Vinci Code. What with the ice-cream, the Maltesers and the rather nice Italian meal we'd had downstairs at one of the Crown Casino's glitzy restaurants, I occasionally felt the need to burp. Thanks to the luxury seats, this wasn't a problem - whenever necessary, I glided up from a horizontal position to a sitting one, belched (silently, I hasten to add) and glided straight back down again. Ancient Rome would definitely have approved.