GIMME, GIMME A day out GIMME... in London
The English capital is always worth a visit but an ABBA ‘comeback’ of sorts makes it even more appealing
AS SOON as I spotted the silver sequin hotpants with matching crop top on the 40-something bearded man next to me, I knew I was going to have a blast.
With fellow revellers, young and old, sporting a combination of sequins, flares, platform boots and hair extensions, there is only one place I could have been — the ABBA Voyage show in east London.
I had booked the tickets on a whim and nearing the date, I wondered what on earth I was doing flying to London for an overnight stay, when I had far too much work to do, plus it was bound to be crowded, stressful and not worth the effort.
But as with all these things in life, if we don’t put the date in the diary, it will never happen. So thankfully, the date was firmly marked, the tickets bought and last month myself and my equally busy friend abandoned responsibility and headed off for a night of fun.
Flying from Shannon was, as always, an absolute breeze and ten minutes after parking the car, we were airside enjoying an early-morning coffee. Travelling light, with just a small overnight bag tucked under the seat in front, there was no stopping us when we landed in London Heathrow and hopped on the train to Paddington station and then on to Liverpool Street to check into our abode for the night.
Located just a couple of minutes by foot from the train station, the Pan Pacific London is not only ideally situated but everything, from the moment we stepped inside the door, was perfect. The five-star hotel oozes elegance and class but complements this with a relaxed and friendly atmosphere.
After checking in and admiring the view from our sumptuous eighth floor twin room — which had two queen-sized beds — it was tempting to enjoy the luxury for a while, but time and tide wait for no city-slicking woman, so after a quick freshen up, we headed back out into the fray and across town to Mayfair, where we had a table booked for an early lunch at The Maine (themainemayfair.com).
We were due to eat on the leafy Terrace, but a sudden downpour saw plans changed and we were ushered downstairs into the Brasserie which, decorated with ornate chandeliers, plush carpets and dark wooden furniture, had the feel of decadent gentlemen’s club. This impression was intensified by the white-jacketed waiters (all male) who presided over the dining room floor.
The menu was vast and varied and we opted for a selection of smaller dishes to share — which included tuna tartare with avocado and wonton crisp, heritage beets with goats cheese, candied walnuts and truffle honey, crispy fish tacos and the ubiquitous lobster roll. We finished with a decadent tarte tartin and as we were dining in style, a glass of pink champagne followed by a crisp Chablis Premier Cru was perfectly suited to the mood of the day.
I had lived in London for almost two decades but due to constraints of work and family life, haven’t had many occasions to return in recent years. But I was keen to reacquaint myself with my old stomping ground so after venturing out into the bright afternoon sun, momentarily dazed by the dazzling light after our subterranean sojourn, we decided to walk across London to soak up the sights and sounds — and work off lunch.
It was a lovely trip down memory lane as we traversed the city before arriving back at our luxurious temporary home for a very short rest. Then it was time to don our glad rags and head downstairs to Strait’s restaurant for our early bird dinner.
We were seated by the wonderfully charming Milana, who showed us to our table and explained the Asianstyle menu. There was so much to choose from and, given the location and venue, the prices were very reasonable. After some deliberation we opted for a mixed platter to start followed by a softshell crab in tomato chilli sauce and a baked black cod with lobster velouté, pea sprouts and parsnip crisp.
Served with a delicious Chinese riesling, the food was superb. The platter included kueh pie tee, chilli prawns, duck rolls, signature chicken satay and scallops, while both the cod and the crab dishes were sublime, the former with a myriad subtle flavours and the latter an explosive feast. Unfortunately unable to linger as we had a show to get to, we realised there would be no time for dessert. But this was no problem — and our hosts advised us to come back afterwards to enjoy our last course.
Taking the lift down to reception, we asked Luis the concierge to call us a taxi and when he heard our destination, was thrilled to inform us that ABBA Voyage was so good that he had been to see it twice and would go again in a heartbeat.
We settled into the cab for the 20-minute drive across London to Pudding Mill Lane and the purpose-built arena where the futuristic show has been running since May and will finish in October.
The air was electric with excitement as fans in flares, platform boots, sequins and glitter queued alongside groups of older ladies in sensible shoes, loved-up couples, and teens — pretty much every age demographic was represented.
Louis, the ABBA-loving concierge, had given us an insider tip regarding the best place to stand for the show — it’s hard to believe that the seated area was more expensive than the dancefloor, who would go to an ABBA show and not want to dance? — so we had a bird’s eye view with plenty of room to boogie.
Despite knowing that we would be watching holograms, the buzz in the air was palpable as everyone waited with bated breath for the lights to dim and the show to begin. After an announcement banning the use of mobile phones, the spectacle began in earnest as ‘Benny, Bjorn, Anni-Frid and Agneta’ arrived on stage and immediately got the 3,000-strong crowd going.
Of course, we all knew the visions in front of us — who were probably in their 30s — were not real, but they were so realistic in every way, that your brain deceives you
into believing what you are seeing.
They belted out hit after hit, with Benny introducing the real live band, who performed a hit on their own and as each of the four spoke to the audience, telling some tales of old and what certain songs meant to them, the crowd, as one, became more and more entranced. Even my sequined neighbour, who appeared a little put out at the start of the show, got carried away with the music — or maybe realised that having a strop in baby blue and silver hotpants was a hard look to pull off.
The music, light show and sound effects combined with the camaraderie of thousands of voices singing in unison was utterly joyful and uplifting, and when they played their last song, there was a deafening call for an encore. The crowd were in raptures as they returned for The Winner Takes it All.
Spilling out into the night air, everyone was full of bonhomie, even the security staff bade cheerful farewells to the buzzing crowd, most of whom were still singing as they queued for taxis or headed to the light rail station opposite.
We spied an empty taxi and within minutes, were cruising, still on a high, back to the hotel — where staff were eager to hear all about the concert. And although the restaurant kitchen was closed, we were escorted back to our table for the promised dessert and the rest of our wine, which they had thoughtfully kept chilled for our return.
We then headed to the cocktail bar for a night cap before falling into bed.
The following day, still aglow from our escapade, we headed for a deliciously decadent breakfast before reluctantly checking out.
A bit of retail therapy was a must before heading back to Heathrow for our short trip home.
It was only one night away, but we packed so much in, indulged all our senses and arrived back feeling as though we had a week’s holiday. When all is Said and Done — sorry — taking a break from reality does wonders for the spirit.