Back To The Middle of Nowhere
So it’s official. College is finally over and our little big group of haphazard individuals and musicians who came together for these two years, fondly renowned as the “Posse” and nonplussed by the bumpy ride, is still intact (although for how long is only a question that can be uttered by fools).
I’ve been busy. And this update has been long overdue.
Monday - My last exam, English, went without the birth of too many kittens. Kernal was fresh from Glastonbury, sporting a t-shirt and jeans combo a la muddy chic and a weekend’s worth of stubble.
Tuesday - Myself and Miss Fox trekked it up to London on a four hour monster of a journey on Berry’s Superfast to see Coldplay on tour at the Crystal Palace Sports Stadium. It was stupidly hot that afternoon but we didn’t get lost on the Tube (ha!) and made it to Bromley in time to see Interpol supporting, who by the way, were exceptional considering most of the Chav population who’d turned up hadn’t a clue who they were. They played Slow Hands and C’Mere which came across electrifying live. Not to mention I could eat the lead guitarist any day.
Coldplay came on about 9ish and played a set that mirrored the one at Glastonbury, which was phenomenal and left me mentally shaking my fists at the guys (who’d conveniently dropped out last minute after slagging off X+Y). I resumed my photographer duties and glued my camera to the screens, which yielded results like these:
Scrambled out of the stadium like dogs after being squished in the most impolite way by whiny females and their drab, hairy husbands whom started pushing and jostling when it started to rain. Though the unimpressed faces that me and Sal pulled managed to shut them up for a victorious 2 seconds. Getting a cab to Colin’s was a mission of all sorts, not helped by the fact that probably 50,000 people filed out of a teeny tiny lane at the same time and the piggies on crowd control duty were (rather unhelpfully) not local. Our cab driver was a class A idiot who overcharged us and drove like a maniac. Anyhow, when we got back a relieved Colin fed us cookies and we slept like logs until the wee hours of the next morning…
Wednesday - …when we took a detour to Covent Garden and did our fair share of shopping. We literally got home about 6.30ish, madly jumped in the shower, got changed and were reunited at the college Summer Ball. I’d managed to blag an Oasis dress for 5 squid so all was good. Except that my date (and on/off best friend/arch enemy- delete as applicable) ditched me for Nick, J, Kerr who opted for a tennis session instead. Amber made sure she gave Nick a stern telling-off the next day when I bumped into her in town though, hee. Tant pis.
Thursday - Wickiiid time at Dan Jones’ birthday bash at Que Pasa, which passed by in a drunken haze amid a collection of strange faces I’d never clapped eyes on before and met Alice’s bessie, Jenny, who is an absolute sweetpea. Spazzy photos-
Friday - Had lunch and a heart-to-heart with Loz about the boyfriend situation and came to an inconclusive conclusion about Hayman’s nonchalance, wishing all the more that we possessed the ability to pick the boy’s brain. Worked, then came home to a fitful 5 hours on the Internet trying to book travel up to London for Live 8. Came away from the phone to Laura at 10 after much frustrated howling with a plan that I’d camp outside Taunton Bus Station at 2.55am and beg the National Express dude to let me on without a reservation. Miracle of miracles, at 11.30pm I’d booked train tickets on daddy’s credit card after he took pity on me and kept my fingers crossed that the transaction had gone through all night. I managed three hours’sleep.
Saturday - Next morning we mished it to the station and I hopped on the 9.10 to London Paddington to join the Morrisons. We were stupidly psyched the whole time and parked up just beyond the VIP barrier for 11 hours with a fucking awesome view of the stage and screens. Whilst you watched it at home folks, me and Laura were there. The bill went something like this-Paul McCartney, U2, REM, The Killers, Madonna, Razorlight, Snowpatrol, Sting, Pink Floyd, The Who etc etc. No meeting of Milly though, booooo. Oh heck, I guess we have the whole summer to figure something out.
Sunday - No fears of getting squished as myself and Laura made ourselves a swift exit after the finale and walked back to London Paddington where I made sure she got on the Tube safely and then I settled down on a bench, munching on a sandwich with 7 hours all by my lonesome to kill. Tis a bitch that my last train departed at half 8 but as the Posse would say, why not live life on the edge? Asides from nearly having my non-existent balls drop off in the subzero temperatures (can I ask why the feck is Paddington always freezing even in the summer?), I was in awe at the stupid amounts of people sleeping on the floor. I guess most of them also attended Live 8 and missed their trains. With just my iPod for company, papa rang me every hour to check I was still alive and hadn’t been raped-that’s love for you. I think I fell asleep on the toilet at one point-it was lovely and warm inside the Ladies room thus I was too tired to care. Too reluctant to leave, I was rudely awoken by a stewardess who was convinced I’d roll onto the grimy floor and hit my head, which her supervisor wouldn’t have been too happy about so she gently told me I’d have to kip somewhere else. I couldn’t be arsed to break into a tenner for a coffee so I settled down into the lounge area and slept for about half an hour before boarding the 07.58am train home. I slept so soundly for those 2 hours, before waking up literally 2 minutes before we pulled into Taunton. Thank fuck I didn’t sleep through to Penzance.
Rudely awoke pa from his slumber, who took me home to get changed and have a quick shower before driving me to Staplehay for Lucy’s birthday BBQ. The socially inept side of me reared its ugly head due to immense sleep deprivation and almost nodded off around the dinner table but naughty drunken shenanigans from Becky Russell and Luce herself soon put an end to my sleepiness. Creepy Ben who lives opposite the Kirks made himself home, unwisely bragging about the numerous substances he’d previously consumed. Uhhhhh, impressive? Pssh. I think he got the message that he wasn’t mine nor the two Sarah’s favourite person of the evening. Sarah gave us all lifts back home and I switched on the telly to find that I’d missed out on most of my daily fix of Big Brother (skanky programme but hideously addictive) but fell asleep again, this time in front of Four Weddings And A Funeral. I think I slept for about 12 hours.
This is like something out of Vanity Fair. Aren't we posh.
Today - For some reason it has felt like a Thursday evening for quite some time. This week has been so surreal. I’ve spent it with some of the people I love most in this world and I just hope this summer will be an extension of what has been experienced so far. Tonight was Laura and Chloe’s 18th birthday party at Sturms, which was stupidly small to what I’d expected of the venue. It was the first time that everyone saw Rosie and Tom as a couple. Sturms virgins as we were, we made good use of the dance floor and although it was never really packed, everyone had a grand time. No scathing remarks were made, no claws were flexed and I didn’t cry once despite all of us being wholesomely inebriated. It sort of became a minor detail that they’re all off to Brittany tomorrow. I wonder if that’s a sign that we’re all eventually moving on. Anyhow, I was so tipsy that I decided to ask Nick and Sam if they still loved me and they replied with a solid yes but I have a sneaky feeling that it was down to the fact that I’d probably slapped them in my drunkeness if they had said no. I love them all so fucking much and Christ it hurts a lot of the time and I’m only disclosing this because I’m still rather tipsy and actually having to type each sentence at snail’s pace. Nevertheless, Jay will be taking on the role of keeping me company this week, which shall be lovely. I love being a person without a bitter heart.
Other news, I’ve lived on BBQ and festie food for a week and miraculously lost 4 pounds. Bizarre.