On Monday I went down to London to spend New Year’s with a best friend I’d not seen in eight months. We ended up heading to a warehouse party that people he knew were putting on. A password was needed at the door to get in, we had to buy raffle tickets to then use at the bar because they didn’t have an alcohol license, the toilets were Porta Loos and a wall even fell down at one point.
It somehow managed to avoid being posy or pretentious and was good. I emerged into the harsh light of day with mud all the way up my skinny jeans, Carlsberg down my t-shirt and grime on my face. The after party carried on until the following afternoon and then late nights visiting a few other friends in the area meant that I spent most of today’s seven hour coach ride home drooling on some stranger’s shoulder. Brb, just gonna go to bed and never wake up.