We got in our rollers and drove..
On the only conceivable night we could have possibly done an outdoor party this spring, due to it being, (apart from the previous Saturday, which was useless anyway as the ground was still sodden) the first truly glorious summer like day to fall on a Saturday we were already booked for DiY's little shindig with the TAK boys, at the Clip Joint in deepest eastest Londinium.
However, today, was to be a most fortuitous mix of good fortune because as well as having DiY on our doorstep, playing at a most intimate venue, it was also the day of our Ems birth, and she was ecstatic with excitement.(And this was the week before.) Thus there was an extra large Kentish contingent heading to the big smoke to hear their fave raves, with the added bonus of meeting up with their old muckers the TAK boys.
Well, what a combination. DiY, a sweltering spring day and Emily's birthday. So it was with joy in our hearts that we assembled at HQ, with the crew, in all their myriad forms, reporting for duty. Thus taking Ooch out of Bendy's bed for a whole night, but not out of her arms, as it later transpired. Two whole minutes after reporting for duty, his whole body was covered in a thick film of sweat. Since falling into the arms of his beloved bendy chef, he has put on about six stone in weight, as he has venison sausages (you don't want to look at them raw, whilst tripping, I'm telling you) and nutmeg mash with red wine gravy for breakfast. Followed by free-range guinea fowl, braised in figs and juniper berries, accompanied by sauté potatoes and hazelnut and almond chocolate torte for lunch, followed by….you get the picture.
Also on the crew were Barry, finally forsaking his trance trews forever, and KG who has only a few gratis points to go before he gets his iron lung, which will double nicely as somewhere to live or a large syrup. All this, plus the rig, plus us in a clapped out transit van, doing a ton up the road to London. We were there in an hour, and then we did the usual two hours to find the place malarkey, being strangely confused by the revelation that yes the venue was in the middle of a housing estate cum scrap yard.
As we finally piled out of the van, A-Z stress hitting the max, it was very hot and sweaty, the sun showed no sign of leaving the sky for a good few hours and we had shit loads of humping to do. Ooch was in his own climate control area, a little microcosm of the weather we have been wallowing in for the last few months, moist. Indeed we were all to discover through the course of the evening just how many different areas 'moist' could cover, especially when combined with heat and a few hundred up for it people.
Anyway, we set the rig up, for the first time since New Year. Oly to find that the sub bass appears to be coming out of the mid and top, and the amp we had mended two months ago and haven't used since, well, the fan's not working. Which means that unless we sort it out there is no way we can use it in this sweatbox. Stress levels rising, we piss about and snap at each other for a bit, then bow to the inevitable and take the amp cover off. There in the corner, by the fan, is the unconnected lead, thank fuck. Everything working we start tucking into the beer while we do a sound check, relief and heat making us start as we mean to go on.
By 9 we're already getting well lubricated in the heat. The first person through the door is Austin, so at least he's not dead (yet) but the first words to fall from his lips, are the ever permanent blags, which trip remorselessly in the most practised manner. One good thing about bumping into the Lost, is meeting Paul again for the first time for a good few years.
The venue is a cool warehouse loft type space used as studios. I say cool in the trendy sense as the temperatures are already hitting the roof, and I notice there is only one toilet, so hastily try to use it as much as possible before all the peeps arrive. But of course, that never completely covers one, as I was soon to find out, to mine and Ria's horror, and the poor chap who discovered me having my experience out on the street, sans toilet paper.
And then suddenly the place was starting to fill, and then I went to the loo, and that strange thing happens, when you go to the loo at the scary time when it looks like no one will come, to that magical moment, just minutes later, when you walk out and the place is packed. And that is what happened. It was great.
By now Emily was wearing out her birthday, big time. Big Lid or what? She had dragged her younger brother who 'has never been to a party before, apart from Buzz in Margate', along and he certainly entered into the spirit of things, although it must be noted he has never been seen at a party since. Emily took a photo of Shaun and Penny (see above) but they weren't actually at the party. Ewen and Nicky jumped the train, and got stumbly and sweaty with the rest of us. Ria resolutely failed to smile once, all night, especially when she stood in Nick's 'accident' down a back alley, wearing New Look wedge open toe sandals. Let's just say she had to wash her toes when she got back in the club.
Austin fell on the floor rolling around, saying how much he loved his 'mum and dad'. Blagged another grand then? Then he was later spotted 'helping' on the door, with the women that got thrown out for tweaking peoples nipples.
Tom (especially) and Kier looked very hot. Layla was very very drunk, and performed a most excellent function with Stoney Barthes who proceeded to launch into his endless marathon of mindless blags. Take a leaf out of Lost It's book, and if you're gonna blag, at least learn how to be amusing. Provide some value. We have thousands of pounds worth of top stories about 'our mate Austin' to tell, along with half the country. Zack, minus his beard, thank fuck. Facial hair, it's just so incredibly difficult to get used to.
So sitting in the van, along with half the club, trying to chill, sweating and talking like a bastard, proffering extremely dodgy advice on all on sundry, the van suddenly makes a huge banging noise and rocks. A car with two dishevelled looking chaps in, has just driven straight into the side of our van, and they don't seem to have realised. We try to stop them driving, but they reverse super slow, and meander off down the road, their lights off.
The DIY crew is out in force with Harry on good form and Pete's clothes resolutely refusing to uncrease or get soaked in sweat in the furnace like sauna like heat. Rick, as polite as ever, gentlemans it up and everyone rubs off the bon homme and nipple tweeking..
more DiY here - 20th birthday party