Rambunctious Rugby

Edide Hubbard’s 5am spot was funking magic. Got two plays of the record below, one at the start and one at the finish; with records this good they deserve multiple plays so punters get a chance to remember it. I skidded about like a loon on both occasions.  You’re good company Eddie, and we had a giggle didn’t we

I spent equal allotments of time in the main room and the record bar. Heaps of comedy and childishness… which is pretty normal!  Especially Loulou who played around with my camera when I wasn’t looking and took millions of photos of herself

Too many people to mention all names but lovely to make the acquaintance of ‘mellytee’ and surprising that our bladders were so meticulously synchronised all night long from our very first pee to the very last!  It was like we were Twins!  You were great company and I hope our paths cross again.  Also good to see the lubbly Irish Tinker, Kev.  Hope your journey back to the Emerald Isle is without moment.

Funny memory No. 237 – Trickster was talking to someone and I was in their near-immediate vicinity.  I have no idea what their conversation was about but he turned to me and said “Karen, what’s your honest opinion of me”  I looked at him for a moment trying to take in that he’d actually asked ‘me’ to be honest… me! haha.  I drew breath and uttered these cutting, immortal, words “well, you’re a bit of a twat sometimes”.  I did balance the blunt delivery with a succeeding fluffy line about his heart being in the right place

So, another mad night comprising, in no particular order, dancing, snogging, hugging, mithering, gossiping, laughing, joking, dissin’, bitching and breast touching (Lou!).

Sincere thanks to Sian for letting us all go back to hers for a cool-off, cup of tea  and a good dash of ‘soulogorrhoea’ – that’s my newest Urban Dictionary submission that, transcribed, means the talking of utter nonsensical bollocks and shite, the morning after the night before.  In short, an en-mass sufferance of soulful verbal diarrhoea

Surreal and unimaginable conversations bounded around the rooms at varying degrees of volume and annoyingly my sex life was openly discussed, or lack of it.  God knows how we got on to that!

Burnley next weekend; I predict a lot more dancing than last night based on it’s music policy alone.  And some eye-candy boy-watching too courtesy of the beautiful, young and lithe Manchester lads – I feel somewhat dirty with that personal admission – I’ll flagellate myself  as a penance, promise

Click the photo below to start the click-through gallery.

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