Well, what can I say, apart from what a weekend! Beginning on Thursday, and ending, for some of us, on the early hours of Monday morning. LF 10 topp of the popps goes to Now Ey, How Ya Diddlin, for diddlin very well thank you, all weekend. He was even spotted smiling a couple of times.
A big thanks to our Nottingham chums, 'Digs and Woosh' who came and titillated our senses so beautifully, warming us up for the weekend to follow. The tape that is circulating of their set, has had grateful recipients phoning up HQ in tears (literally, although the tears were probably stimulated by other things as well). Unfortunately the timeless aural splendour of the tape has been marred by feedback problems (to the extent of nearly blowing the speakers if listened to in transit) which were noticeable on the night. When Mag Mart, sound man extra-ordinaire, blah, blah and so on, was asked by Digs, Woosh, Paul and Nick in unison on bended knee, pleadingly, near tears, to "do something about the feedback" responded in useless, smiley, how does my equipment work mode "nahhhh, sounds all right to me." Maurice I hope you're reading this, coz you're worth every penny mate!
Good to see the place rammed to the rafters with so many lovely, glowing party peeps, although the Whitstable posse was noticeable by it's absence. Lightweights.
Spotted - Austin "I'm hal.." falling off his stool, in his new designer togs and leather wellingtons, bought by his mum, Chris and Sharon fresh with the joys of parent hood looking very well and happy, Russ celebrating his 21st, Dickie and Gail, limbering up in preparation for their Skin 2 appointment the next week, a certain chap from Ramsgate being forcibly ejected, Computer Gary, Pam, John, Sue and Aaron all on day one of the mammoth bender to follow, Wide eyed Toby, Nick and Sara fresh from the vigours of intellectual, political debate, Trudi who had all the clothes apart from those she was still wearing stolen, which understandably totally ruined her night, and ours when we heard about it, sorry Trudi. And loads of lovely chums from far flung corners of deepest Kent, not spotted for a few months, as well as lots of soon to be chums.
After it was back to HQ for a hoe-down, whilst D and W sped off back to Nottingham, with an extremely well dressed young chap in close attendance. (We later learnt that they suffered an extremely hairy accident from which they luckily all escaped from unhurt).
Saving ourselves for the weekend, nahhh, not us as the wheels of steel were switched on and Oz began another mammoth DJing set, and upstairs' children woken up mid sleep, again. Nick ducked off early, because she used the old work in the morning routine, but everyone it must be said was in full flow, especially Burns Out, in pride of place in front of the speaker with that look, closely followed by Toby 'the safest parker in town', who likes parking his car in the middle of the road as long as it's opposite a junction. Award for widest eyes of the night still going to Toby, and he was ahead by a few hours.
Friday evening - the easiest party to set up ever. Up a few steps and along a corridor, with Oochie Oochie slipping one in before the festivities to follow on Saturday. Quite literally it appears as we were regaled with details of his lunch box antics. 'I didn't stop till 8'.
Louis turned all arty on us and started hanging the drapes up very artistically, it's just as well the meatheads that turned up later didn't see him, or he might have seen the end of his drape fondling days. Unfortunately his lovely white walls were never to be the same again, as whilst clearing up the next day, they were found to have transformed themselves into a particularly fetching shade of black. It's that cheap paint Nick uses from the Early Learning Centre.... Louis took it like a man, 'it needed a paint anyway,' he lied.
Everything set up, and surprise, surprise, one of the decks was fucked, so a quick phonecall to soundman of the year, and over to Chavland to pick up some decks, where we were treated to a few handy child-caring hints by laughing boy. Lets just say it involved a bowl of sugar.
By 11.30 Nick was already well into her usual effortlessly, and superbly mixed seamless blend of housey profferings. The Whitstable crowd much in evidence tonight, which isn't really surprising as they didn't have to drag their drink ravished bodies more than a few yards. An early attempt by the Jungle posse to seize control of the decks failed miserably, as it was ably fended off by the house music fascists, who in truth had been forewarned of this dastardly attempt and were expecting much more shit than they actually got, and who've had so much practice at fending off unwanted advances of the aural kind that they've got it down to a fine art, of using the maximum of rudeness with the minimum of effect. You're gonna have to be a bit more persistent boys.
Unfortunately, their were a few 'types' that luckily we never come into contact with anymore, but occasionally gate-crash these events and hassle and abuse all the women all night. One had a cigarette stubbed out on her arm (I kid you not) whilst being told to perform a certain action with her legs. Whilst not actually physically abusing all and sundry, they proceeded to spout a torrent of homophobic, sexist shit. Please note, if any of you are spotted lurking at any future events, you're not welcome.
Apart from these idiots, everyone else behaved in their usual impeccable manner. Those spotted for second helpings, Pam, Sue, Now Ey, Gary, John, Toby, Russ, Andy.
Party of the weekend goes to Saturday night however, which went to new lengths in self indulgence. Highlights? Putting the marquee up in between breaks in the rain (no not really), finding that all the noise problems early on where the amp kept cutting out was only due to Steve hanging his coat up on it, (I kid you not), and heard moaning about the stupid farquar who put his coat on top of the amp, trying to change over amps mid set only to find the fuses had blown, finding a knife shitfaced, and some silver foil to wrap round the fuses but forgetting to plug the output into the amp (the next day, the two knives used as a screwdriver which disappeared, were found actually inside the amp, no doubt shorting the whole circuit. Whoops.), Pam and Sue for their mammoth fungus eating escapades, Eds set, the old boy who burst into the room, ripping the records off the decks complaining about the noise, only to have an indignant throng shout at him and tell him Loz=esque, that he was a very rude man, steaming in like that, and taking the records of the decks, and that hadn't he made a noise sometimes, at least once in his youth. He held his hands aloft in weary resignation and fucked off, but we did turn the volume down as well, being afloat in a sea of lovely, friendly people, seeing the love tent in all its glory, dragging ourselves to the pub at 12 for our religious Sunday sesh, for more abuse of the liquid variety. God was I glad to slip into bed...