On Birthdays, We Bowl

It's official. I'm 23. I can no longer share in Taylor Swift's appreciation of being old enough to call yourself mature, but still young enough to pretend you're a student. And if you're 23 and still a student - come on, time's time.

While this year's birthday wasn't the biggest milestone (I mean, the only pop culture reference I can think of is Taylor Swift), that's not to say I wasn't going to celebrate. So, with a few mates rounded up from around the country, I arranged a bit of a flatwarming and a trip into town. As part of the night's entertainment, we headed to Manchester's best boutique bowling alley, All Star Lanes.

When I told my mates that we were going bowling, they weren't particular impressed. Picture bowling balls stuffed with chewing gum and watered-down pints attached onto a shitty arcade. All Star Lanes is far classier and, as is my usual want in any place of interest, has a twist of Americana.

Whether you book ahead or not, there's usually a wait before you bowl. But the hostesses are great and there's a pretty impressive bar to keep you from going thirsty. As it was my birthday (did I mention that?), I was served up a mojito on the house and a delightfully retro card (see bottom).

Once you're on the lanes, you get your own little booth (no sticky benches a la Megabowl) and the waitresses, dressed in throwback diner attire, are always popping up to take your order. I should mention that there's also a restaurant - although I haven't had chance to try the food yet...

Up on the hall of fame board there are a number of local celebs - mostly Coronation Street fodder and a few footballers - as well as Rihanna, who was in after one of her tour dates in Manchester. It's all pretty reasonably priced too - I priced up a game at my local alley and it wasn't much cheaper than the £8.95 you pay per game at All Star, and the drinks are pretty standard fare for a cocktail bar in the city centre. 

They also put on weeknight offers, including a free round of drinks on a Friday if you bowl a strike when a red pin drops down. It's one of my favourite ways to start a night out and is great for a bit of after-work bonding. It's just a shame I work miles away.

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Gone Bootin'

Sunday mornings for me usually mean a lie in and the potential of a crippling hangover. But now, things have changed. Yesterday, free from dry mouth and a fuzzy head, I delved into the mirky world of the car boot sale. And I liked it...

My brother and I are addicted to the History Channel (a post for another time) and one of its shows, American Pickers, where a pair of, would you believe it, American 'pickers', go round the Southern states hunting for old Americana for restoration. Though car bootin' might not be a little more Cash in the Attic than American Pickers, the thought of unearthing some treasures of my own was too strong to resist so we set our alarms early and headed over to a local 'booter'.

While my new flat will be treated to this great printed mirror (below), which at £3 was an absolute steal, I also came back with a stack of old LPs and the intention to buy a record player. With prices in my selection of vinyl goodies ranging from 10p to £5, I've managed to give my new collection a healthy start - in all, I spent just under £40 on 25 items and, bar one, they're all in good, playable condition.

I say playable because the haul led to us busting out my dad's old Kenwood system and amplifier and giving them all a whirl. To my dismay, he also pulled his old collection out of the loft, which is in immaculate condition and contains so many albums I wish I owned myself. What was supposed to be a causal Sunday rummage has led to what I think might be a new hobby. I just need to find that record player or convince Dad to let me take his with me when I move out...

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