24th June, 2012: Revelry @ Rugby

Spat by Soulgirl at 1:10 pm | Comment here! Comment (0)

Again, sadly without the companionship of my besty, Lindsay Hinge, I took to the motorways in search of soul sustenance. Sian had kindly invited me, and others, to a pre-Rugby soiree so I arrived at around 5pm where a warm welcome awaited me.

Following a few beverages and Ken’s loud, and at times animated, confirmation that he didn’t like funk we bundled in vehicles for the short journey to the Benn Hall.

It was strange arriving before it was open and Sian busied everyone with little jobs in preparation for the arrival of the Rugby Patrons.

It wasn’t long before there was a good buzz and vibe about the place and it wasn’t long before I was warming my legs up on the dance floor. Matt Smart and Kenny opened proceedings with some lovely underplayed records mostly.

Settled on my usual table by the Freestyle room I shared space with the lovely Samantha Jarrald, her fella Steve and her two beautiful Daughters. Most of my photos were taken by the girls so I cannot accept any responsibility for the subjects

Was lovely to see Andy, Groovesville, whom I’d not seen in a long time and he furnished me with a lovely gift; a CD! Thank you Andy

And blow me, I was bestowed with another gift from Adam Topping; my current FAVOURITE spin! Yes, a record! It’s a great double-sider so I’m now available for DJ bookings. I’ll only need a 10 minute slot so I’m sure I’ll be squeezed in somewhere.

I was that excited I made Nicola Anderson and Soul Sam listen to it on a dealers turntable.

Thank you SO MUCH Adam!

How fucking great is that huh!

If I keep telling Mick H how great the Hopkins Brothers are do you think he’ll gift his record to me as a as well?

I was in and out of the Freestyle room like a Nun’s bar of soap. Trickster was on the roster and I wasn’t expecting much from him. Silly me! Some really wonderful choices and quite a number of alternative versions of classics that I found very stimulating. Nice one Chris

Sean Chapman gave it large and I also heard Tez play for the first time. Lots of stuff I’d never heard before. All in all, the Freestyle room was just that. A great mix of Jocks with differing tastes and collections. Thank you

There was much nonsense and comedy peppered throughout the night, when I wasn’t on the dance floor. Conversations that became more strrrrange as the night wore on.

I enjoyed a fair amount of my time on the dance floor and my hooves are currently complaining, as they do, confirming that I am soulfully sated. Mick H played 3 of my all-time monster faves. The Appointments – I Saw You There (never tire of hearing or dancing to this), The Hopkins Brothers – Shake Cheri and The Combinations “What Cha Gonna Do” – how fantastic does this sound OUT LOUD in a darkened moody room. Very erotic. Well, it made me cream my pants, no lie!

Musically it was very varied; something for everyone and some. And all in the company of some of the most wonderful people. I am extremely lucky to have so many great mates and one seriously amazing social life. I’m wankered again now though haha.

At one point I caught Ken and Allan playing strip poker. I didn’t hang around to see the removal of their clothing. I hope their shorts were clean!

Going back to Sian & Dean’s for a super unwinding session is perfect prior to the arduous journey home. More strrrrange conversations comprising tacos, kebabs, rabbits, canopied trike’s, fish and marjoram with lashings of innuendo and sarcasm that put a smile on my face. However, when I felt myself ‘fizzing’ I knew it was time to take my leave, kiss what seemed to be almost the entire household farewell and drive home with my stereo full blast. Another Psychological Experiment executed perfectly and exactly to plan and I’m glad of it.

My journey home found me playing this on repeat, the whole journey. AWESOME! I hope one of the Jocks for our upcoming Soul FunkTion allnighter has this in their box – I want to dance to it properly. I handed out a few flyers for the nighter, to cool people who’ll get it and want it, but choice was limited as Sir David had already canvassed the coolest ones

Also can’t stop playing these few either…

And this wonderful Harvey Scales track; so poignant and so right for today’s austerity bollocks.

So, thank you Sian and Dean for your selfless hospitality and of course for running the super-friendly nighter that we’ve all grown to love.

And thank you to everyone that made my night so fandabydozie. Click the image below to start the click-through gallery. Not that they’re up to much I’m afraid; I failed dismally yet again.

Right, Cravendale (lots of it) and cheesy nachos now await my completely empty, dessicated shell of a body. Kidney function should resume on Tuesday.

Rugby Allnighter 23 June 2012

Samantha!

Rugby Allnighter 23 June 2012

Through the keyhole

Rugby Allnighter 23 June 2012

Did myself an injury!

Rugby Allnighter 23 June 2012

Can you guess who it is?

Early hoof around the floor

Rugby Allnighter 23 June 2012

Steve & Sam

Rugby Allnighter 23 June 2012

Ooops, seethrough blouse alert

Rugby Allnighter 23 June 2012

Sam's Girls

Rugby Allnighter 23 June 2012

Elaine

Rugby Allnighter 23 June 2012

A bit more twirling dervish

Rugby Allnighter 23 June 2012

Freestyle Room buzzing

Rugby Allnighter 23 June 2012

Me and the lovely Ted Massey

Rugby Allnighter 23 June 2012

Mick & Frank

Me & Mick

Dave Rivers

Rugby Allnighter 23 June 2012

19th June, 2012: 6ts Weekender – Cleethorpes 2012

Spat by Soulgirl at 2:21 pm | Comment here! Comments (2)

I’m alive! Either that or the afterlife’s still a place for ‘suffering wrath’.

Lindsay and I set off at lunchtime, heading North as usual. This time North East to the now sacred Beachcomber caravan park. Its 20th Anniversary is testament to its popularity. ‘COME ON CLEGGY’ spurted from my lips in a kind of chant, en-route, through the clogged up roadways of Britain.

Lindsay was driving this year in her lubblyjubbly new vehicle. Its seats were like leather armchairs and I had two free hands which was a novelty

5 hours later we’d arrived. C5 awaited the fall-out. John & Jen were already installed. Wristbands on, unpacking sorted, the shower called our name in preparation for what the night might throw at us.

Friday night is one where we say we’ll pace ourselves and never do. Mick H was on when we skipped into the venue and the quality of tunes continued throughout the evening.

Butch, Mick H and Soul Sam played blinding sets between 2 & 5 that SO did it for me, followed by Pete Hulat, stepping in for Mick Smith who’d gone AWOL again, with some lovely ballads.

It must have done it for me because my feet told me so come 5.15ish, when us girls decided it was time for some coffee at Le Cafe.

Enjoying a smoke in the morning haze a man decides to take me by surprise and thrust me from behind – at the point when he grabbed my hair and became more animated I began to panic

Back to the van with the girls, greeted by another of our van sharers Steve in his shorts, we slipped into something more comfortable and laid prostrate musing over memories of what had passed. A few hours sleep were planned before our first afternoon session. Well, that went to pot as Samantha started playing some great music that just keeps you awake (not your Peruvian Pan Pipe CD though!). We all wanted tea but had no milk. John went in search but an hour later Sam pottered out instead. It turns out that John had stumbled into the Nottingham Nutters van and when that happens it’s hard to escape.

Before we knew it, party time had arrived again. Back in the shower then!

No need to tell you I like the afternoons. And this year I had a plan. We were all going to get drunk because when drunk sleep usually comes easy.

I had a good dance by the time my legs had re-awoken and limbered after a few pints. The room slowly filled and we made it until the bitter end. The Spanish lads provided some good records and the all important ‘eye-candy’

At this juncture we thought food might be in order. Trying to masticate a bacon roll after 32 hours since my last meal (21 of them being ‘on one’) was more difficult than the 21 hours that had already passed since arriving. What I needed was MILK!

Anyway, no time to hang about – back to the van for another attempt at sleep which was futile. FAIL. I think I managed to drift in and out of consciousness but by no description was it sleep.

Saturday night and I was chomping at the bit. We arrived at the venue for 1am because that’s when ‘upstairs’ was due to start. William Bell was running late so we had to listen to about half an hour of 1mph ballads. Being brave I said to Lindsay that we should poke our heads into the Modern room. Within 30 seconds I was shuddering and gurning. Even Lindsay wasn’t impressed so we backtracked out of there pronto.

I had foolishly raised my expectations of what would be delivered ‘upstairs’ only to be sorely disappointed. The room was almost empty after the queue for William Bell autograph hunters had dissipated.

Butch’s set was a tad indulgent (and I think inebriated) and there were a couple of record ‘knocks’ resulting in that awful scratching sound. Mid-record announcements were also irritating; especially for the person trying to dance at the time. Quite frankly, it was pretty shit

I was alone dancing a lot of the time too – on occasion I shared the floor with a couple of others. More DJ’s milling behind the decks than punters at the front – it felt divided :(

I’d heard that the 5-records per DJ was going to be repeated but sadly it wasn’t. I was hoping Dyson was on the list but as he’d not been contacted he’d not brought his play-box.

Cliff Steele played the best set up there (for me) and I enjoyed a jig to many of his funkalicious selections.

By around 4.30 we’d had enough waiting for it to get better and returned downstairs. I’d missed Mick’s spot and felt cheated to be honest. However, I’d arrived in time for Keith Money so that raised my spirits before departure. I think he was battling through on one deck for a time too.

Another Latte in Le Cafe and back through the soggy camp in search of my fleecy pyjamas. Sleep, proper sleep, evaded us all again.

Fuck it; just a few hours later I flicked a flannel about my foo, jumped into a pair of jeans and headed over to the Nottingham Nutters van which was disturbingly quiet (they’d been hardcore partying from the start for Wendy’s 50th) before venturing back to the venue for the Sunday afternoon session in time to hear the Banbury Boys do their stuff – the Stylistics track was especially fab and the whole set was diverse but not to the point of being indulgent. Eddie Hubbard, you were very much missed though. I LOVE SUNDAYS!!!!

I got a wee bit tipsy (which was our plan anyway {see above} in the hope of falling asleep in a drunken heap), danced my legs and feet numb and enjoyed conversations of funk, porn, menopause and drugs all in the same smoke break! I even got thrust from behind again by another male; Déjà vu! We weren’t going to enter the competition this year even though Rimmer said we’d win a prize for coming last again. We stood out the front chit chatting instead. Soul Sam was on in the Modern room and we could hear it. He played a couple of funky tracks that saw me skid in there both times to have a jig. It was an oddity- no-one else was dancing and I felt a bit like a circus act as they all sat there nonplussed

Joel made me laugh recounting the moment he walked in on his mate earlier who appeared to be flustered having been caught in the act of masturbation. Good on him for having the energy! But the descriptive terms used for removing a bed sheet like a large stiff pane of glass made me proper laugh.

The DJ from Spain who did a spot in the afternoon came and said hello. I asked where in Spain he was from and he said Madrid in the way a Spanish person would say it… you know, rolling R’s and a TH sound… PHWOAR! Sexy or what! This found me squeezing my thighs together briefly before departure.

Another Latte and bacon roll were called for. A Muggle was in the cafe – a real fucking fuggly one at that. She still had shaving foam around her ears! Later to be found wandering around the camp knocking on numerous van doors apparently lost. Keith Woon fell foul of her knocking and was seen to disappear inside locking all entry points

I tossed about on the sofa trying to induce z’s in my Gospel Bob teeshirt and announced I was taking to Sam’s bed to try to sleep there where it was quieter. Nope – she popped on these two records that immediately brought me back to a roused state even though we’d only just heard them in the venue so back to the sofa to talk more nonsense. Sam even reminded me that some bloke asked if I’d like to ‘work’ for him! Missed opportunity because I don’t remember that at all.

It was 10pm before we knew it. I looked at Lindsay and she looked at me. We were spent. 2 nighters and two ‘full on’ afternoon sessions had done it’s worst. I was cunted. We clocked Lou and John on their way to the venue in their fancy dress – Zippy and George. However, I finally fell asleep half way through the Shawshank Redemption. If I’d gone over on the Sunday night I would have just swayed on the spot like a lone sheaf of weather beaten wheat.

My pre-cleg announcement of hopes for a gang-bang failed with more time spent on the dance floor than looking for potential gang-bangers. I’m all hot air and my innocence remains intact. Besides, the stiffest thing through the whole weekend was my big toe no doubt

Thanks Ady Croasdell – top dollar as always.

And special thanks to my van sharers – it all gelled very nicely indeed.

En-route Latte

Mandy's first on the floor

Mick & Chalky

6ts Weekender - Cleethorpes 2012

Linds & Birthday Girl Weno

6ts Weekender - Cleethorpes 2012

Jan Me and Mike

6ts Weekender - Cleethorpes 2012

Me & Frenchie

6ts Weekender - Cleethorpes 2012

Dance comp winners

6ts Weekender - Cleethorpes 2012

Hoss nuzzling Karens boobies

Nuzzling Karen's boobies

6ts Weekender - Cleethorpes 2012

Me and Lins.

6ts Weekender - Cleethorpes 2012

Don't remember this!

14th June, 2012: CLEETHORPES!

Spat by Soulgirl at 11:54 pm | Comment here! Comment (0)

Yes, the 20th Anniversary is upon us. You can still attend; get your weekend pass here: http://www.6ts.info/weekenders.asp

Find accommodation, or in true Soul Style, fuck accommodation, just flooze your way around the caravans taking advantage of those that already have accommodation.

See you all there! Review to follow.

5th June, 2012: European Soul Weekend

Spat by Soulgirl at 8:06 pm | Comment here! Comment (0)

I was staying in this weekend until an invitation to attend the Manchester European Soul weekend landed in my lap

Within 24 hours I’d booked a hotel room, packed my bags and pootled up the Royal Veins of Great Britain to enjoy what I love the most and thanks to Her Maj, an additional day off into the bargain.

The Attic

The entrance to the Attic Club was perilous to say the least. I bet there’s few that have succumbed to injury on this spiral madness but luckily, not me. Stood below the ironmongery gave us all a good look up the skirts of girls who weren’t aware of the spectacle they gave during both their decent and return.

I wasn’t very inspired by the music throughout the night and the dance floor is probably one of the worst I’ve encountered on my irresponsible pilgrimage around the UK. £4 for a can of lager made my eyeballs bulge and blurted an involuntary WTF which made the barman cock his head with a wry smile that indicated his sympathetic agreement. However, that aside, the company was tip-top although rather ginger at times

I didn’t recognise Liam Quinn at first. Cor blimey, what a transformation! Both he and his partner in crime, Gary Bratchford, sported facial fuzz that belied their youth. At least I’d shaved for the occasion!

As our hotel rooms weren’t available until 2pm on the Sunday an invitation to wind down at Clangers was a welcome one. From around 6am until 1pm we played records, viewed YouTube clips, drank tea, smoked cigarettes and talked crap. You can only be in the company of like-minded people where you experience every known emotion in such a short space of time. Indebted to our hosts for giving us respite we made our short journey to the Brittania Hotel in the heart of Gay Land (that’s what it said on the map!) in Manchester City.

I trashed my room in honour of Prestatyn; Britannia Hotel’s, you did a massive disservice to our Community!

OK, I didn’t really but the sentiment was there

The next instalment was to begin a 3pm – no rest for the wicked huh! Failure in the sleep department found me showering in readiness for Chapter 2.

Jabez Clegg

We arrived around 5pm, a little late, but forgiveable under the circumstances. Within an hour I’d found my second wind and BANG! The dance floor whispered subliminal messages. One of the whispers was this fucking beauty courtesy of Henning! His whole set stood out for me.

Any thoughts of disappointment of the previous night faded as new memories were made. My autism kicked in which found me insulting a rather large doorman. I’m not quite sure how the conversation started but I was dangerously asked ‘do you think I’m fat’. ‘Yes, although I’d call it rotund’. There was a rather shocked look on his face and in a thrice he was asking me to feel his biceps and and poke his pecs. I jiggled my own pecs and said ‘yes, they’re big muscles but I don’t think the 3 chins you have are muscle are they?’. His comrades laughed and I skipped back inside for some more dance floor action announcing “I’m off, Mick H is just about to take to the decks”. A woman looked at me and said “who’s Mick H?” hahahahahahaha…. HANDBAGGING MUGGLE ALERT!

The whole evening was seriously uptempo. YEEHAAAAA! And keep your ears peeled for the great funky coverup by Malayka.

All the spinners had me engaged with their choices of plays. A night without sleep brings out the best of everyone! At one point Mick H passed me and said ‘Cheryl Cole phoned me last night and asked to buy my Hopkins Brothers – I told her to fuck off’.

This is a photo of what I think is a cat-sick. It was there, on the floor, all night! I cannot believe that it was still intact at the end – it had been danced around by everyone, undisturbed. The magic cat-sick that’ll go down in history.

By midnight it was obvious I was flagging. I’d spent a fair amount of the afternoon/evening dancing and a fair amount trying to dodge two men who’d taken a fancy to me. The Gloucester Greens found this quite amusing. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’d set me up for their selfish entertainment!

You know those old Elvis Presley posters… the one where no matter where you stood in the room he’d always be looking straight at you? Well, that’s what it was like. No matter where I escaped to this fucking blokes eyes were boring into me. My body language was more than clear that I wasn’t interested but still he made his advancement. Paranoia was embedding itself deep within my being. I was ready for getting a bit Jackie Chan on him to be honest.

I’d remarked that Leona Murphy must be one of our most ladylike DJ’s. Even the way she twiddles the knobs with her pinky out was delicate bringing visions of drinking fine tea from a bone-china teacup in a flowery garden. Her manner was in stark contrast to the records she played which were full on bash you about stuff. (I remember looking at Ady Woolaston, her fella, on Monday night, still dancing at 11pm, thinking he must be some kind of robotic clone haha. Top man!)

It was Adam Toppings late spot that battered me senseless. Getting to hoof around, punching the air with theatrical finger pointing and whiplash to this disembowelling record helps me see the sense to all the senseless things I do.

COME ON YOU FUCKERS!!!!!

1am and I was living dead. Barely able to stand and whimpering audible nonsense it was time to leave. Me, Sam and Adam shared a cab back to the hotel. Honestly, the hassle these DJs/Record sellers go through carting their wares around the scene. I don’t envy them but salute proudly their love and dedication for this music.

After lying on my bed, prostrate and dribbling into my pillow, sleep enveloped me at around 3am. 5 hours later I woke up – how fucking shit is that. Body clock, I hate you! I’m already 11 hours down on the sleep meter and no food at all since Friday evening. It was as though I was part of some psychological experiment that was going exactly to plan. Soul-induced psychosis LOL.

I continued lying there for another few hours, determined not to get up just because I’d woken up. I’d arranged to meet Mr Topping for lunch. He’s a bit shit with navigation. Traipsing us around the streets of Manchester we found ourselves in China Town and shovelled food into our mouths that, by now, was a medical necessity.

It became apparent that China Town was literally just across the road from our Hotel yet we’d managed to make a a mile-long detour to bloody find it! Still, a short walk back is better than a long one.

Chapter 3 was almost upon us. I went to utter the words ‘I can’t go on’ but they came out as ‘show me the fucking way’

The Blackdog Ballroom

In the heart of the Euroculture base-camp, this venue was an airy chilled-ambiance kind of bar. We set up camp in the far corner where the DJ’s commenced yet another ear-assault of the highest order.

The whole day/night found waves of different people wafting in and out. A bunch of street dancers stopped by. It was a refreshing sight to see muggles interpreting the music in their own way. No ‘northern soul’ moves! One young black guy, with a wide bandanna, reminded me of Jamiraqui. He was a natural whereas the rest of the troop were a little contrived and obviously just showing off their choreographed moves. Kudos to them though; they were dancing whilst most of their peers were getting pissed up and fighting no doubt.

This Joe Bataan track had me up to clip-clop about the floor. Sounded immense on a loud system and off me heed haha.

Sam spun SoulfunkTion; of course, this flicked my switch and I skidded onto the floor like loony-tunes. When the record finished I punched the air again and shouted FUCKIN’ A. A bunch of those young street-dancers were sat on the floor watching and gave me a round of applause and the thumbs up.

They know where I’m coming from. They also knew where Gospel Bob was coming from as he aired a few of his own moves. Not sure he’ll be moving much at all for the rest of the week after that display

By 10pm the place was heaving with muggles and the obligatory Mad Mancunian strutting his wide legged stomping steps and two pointing fingers in the air around the dance floor – later to be seen surfing the tables stealing pints LOL.

I was glad I couldn’t get on the dance floor; I was cunted with lips akin to a couple of Farley’s fucking Rusks and a mouth as dry as a Nuns vag. I was now incapable of human interaction. 11pm found me sneaking out in secret back to my bed as the volume was upped and the young Manchester crowd created their own Ibiza to our beloved music – it was pure poetry.

Lovely surprise to see Jumping Joan, Sharon and Kev Spittal arrive. I love watching her dance and we shared some comedy moments during our short time together.

Many thanks to Gary and Liam for arranging it all. To all the DJ’s that flicked my switch and to all the party-goers that provided the brilliant company especially the European travellers.

Click the photo to start the click-through gallery