Let’s talk about the toilets, because it’s not a real day out until you’ve had a deep existential crisis in a cramped cubicle. The queue for the ladies’ was longer than the queue for the actual event. I saw a mum give her child a packet of crisps just to keep him quiet, and he used them to barter for a place at the front. Capitalism, baby.
A Christmas Carol – A Ghost Story to return to London’s Alexandra
When I finally got in, the hand dryer sounded like a wounded wildebeest. I half-expected it to apologize. But you know what? The paper towels were surprisingly absorbent. It was the small victory I needed to face the second half of the day.
The Exit: A Marathon of Goodbyes
Leaving was like trying to get out of a really polite mosh pit. Everyone was saying “sorry” and “after you” while accidentally elbowing each other in the ribs. A man with a massive inflatable dinosaur kept blocking the exit, and nobody had the heart to tell him to leave. He was living his best life.
By the time I hit the fresh air, my feet were screaming, my ears were ringing, and my soul felt strangely full. I bought a slightly overpriced keychain from a stall that I already regret, but I’ll keep it forever. That’s the Ally Pally effect: you leave with a headache, a new friend you’ll never see again, and a deep appreciation for chaos that feels like home.
So, what happened at Alexandra Palace today live? Life. Just a big, messy, hilarious chunk of life, served with a side of lukewarm fries and a side-eyed glance from a seagull. And honestly? I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
