After going out last Saturday to work at the formidable Love Fever and ending up at various trance squat raves and warehouse parties I thought I might take it easy this weekend.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind trance: I spent my late teens in trance raves, in questionable parachute pants, swirling glowsticks around my head and chewing on my face like it was going out of fashion (apparently it never did). But rolling home at 6pm Sunday, in heels covered in paint and enough dog hair to make an industrial strength fur, is really not The One.
So yes, this weekend I am taking myself to sunny Glasgow for a staycation with the ladies (I use that term loosely).
The wonderful Tie will be showing us around her home town, and I’m told there’ll be more Indie nights than you can shake a bottle of Buckfast at (said drink apparently cause of >80% of alcohol related violence. Such as shaking bottles of Buckfast at idioms).
If I make it back in one piece there will be photographic evidence. If not, have my liver spread on toast. It’s pretty much delicatessen by now.
In Londoncentric news I am doing wees of excitement at the imminent opening of Hoxtons next big thing, The White Horse. Had a sneaky preview earlier this week, courtesy of owner and provider of most eastern decent nights A.Bird, and it is looking shit hot right now. If anyone wants to throw me a surprise leaving do this one is definitely The One.
Opening night next Friday – come show your beautiful faces kids x
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