Delayed Reaction

Ok, I know I'm lazy but this time I have an excuse; I've been ill. Admittedly not since before Easter, which is when I last wrote anything, but still...

Easter was a lot of fun, for the most part. We did Tonka on the Friday, which is always a bit of a riot, and then we chanced going to Area for Juicy on Saturday night. We weren't expecting to enjoy ourselves but actually had a great night. The music was pretty good, and the crowd was very sexy indeed. I had the right horn I can tell you. Did me no good whatsoever though. Bummer.

Sunday was Fusion at XXL with the Freemasons DJing. The Boyf wasn't impressed; "I don't see why we want to go and see a couple of 50 year olds playing other people's records and getting applause for it". The Superstar DJ thing passes him by, and I do understand his point. Lots of people obviously disagreed however; XXL was absolutely rammed and it tipped over from being manic but fun into being very uncomfortable. There didn't seem to be any more bar staff than usual and the queues for a drink were a nightmare. And then a friend of ours collapsed. Luckily medics were on the scene really quickly, and good job they were as they actually had to resusitate him at one point. He was carted off to hospital and was fine the next day. Us not so much. Seeing a friend come close to death had hit us hard and we're not in a good mood with him at the moment, although we're obviously pleased that he's ok. It's caused a little rift amoung our friends i.e. between those that do that particular drug and those of us who don't. The takers are sticking together - it's obviously too close to home and is raising questions they'd rather not think about. Anyway, it's a storm in a tea-cup, but there are certainly going to be words said if anything happens in future. We simply don't want to see our friends putting themselves in danger.

And that's when I got ill. I came down with the flu on the Thursday, just in time for our trip to New York on Friday. I felt fucking dreadful, I can tell you. It was a surprise trip for The Boyf's birthday and I woke him up early on Friday morning to tell him he wasn't going to work cause we were off somewhere. All I wanted to do was stay in bed. Anyway, we jumped on the tube and started our journey out to Heathrow, with The Boyf suddenly realising that a flight was involved. Amazingly we managed to get through the check-in and into the departure lounge before he found out where we were going. And he was one pleased bunny. Even cried, bless him.

(to be continued...)