Friday 26th October meant going back to The Flat near Victoria. The theme on this evening was Barbie and Ken. My fancy dress effort was pretty poor. A posh shirt, with a preppy jumper, some jeans and formal shoes with a clip file. Can you guess what Ken I went as?
Office Ken. Obviously.
Some of my mates really put the effort in, with deformed and decapitated barbies being a favourite Necklace accessory.
It was a mad night. I had been through a really tough week at College and I just couldn't wait to get absolutely Trollied and just go for it. This night was a bit of a let-down numbers wise though. Not as many people went on Friday as on the nights the previous weekend. But that meant room to breathe, and a chance to talk to people. I'm making it sound like a rather conservative affair, it really wasn't. The Vodka poured once again, this time diluted with Oasis, served from the bottle. Classy, I know.
I met some really cool people and instantly repelled them by dancing like a Strictly Come Dancing contestant on Acid. But the most embarrassing moment came when One of the bathrooms became a social area, and the second became a crack-den and I really needed a piss. I ran out of the flat, stumbling against the walls ran into the stairwell, and saw an open window. Yeah that's right. A reoccurance of this happened, but one floor below, with my head sandwiched inbetween the two pains of glass, sending my vomit to whatever happened to lie below.
Change of subject if you will. I ended up walking home up Bury New Road and got home around 4am. Then had to appear at work the next morning, layering on my Southern-esque fake accent, and my "Hi I'm in pain" smile. But I wasn't thinking of work.
I SAY: As is the case with parties, plays and gigs, the best night is always the last.
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