Hold Tight London
Update: Upon unpacking my bags, I realized with some pride that my first attempt (even if accidental) to bring explosives on-board a plane has been successful! Carry on baggage, no less! Okay, so it was only a Christmas Cracker... but it still counts on my book. Also, welcome back to the internets, Dr Cok!
Just got back to Sweden. Where to start? Think I'll cover New Years Eve and Day in this post, and then work backwards to Christmas and the in-between bits later, mainly because I can't find the cable for my camera, but for NYE&D I can just steal photos from Jo, Mikey and Alice.
New Year's Eve
For NYE, I went to a party at a pub in Angel that was organised by a french dude called Jef, who was (I think) a vague acquaintance of a friend of the flatmates of Jo and Jeremy, with whom I was staying at the time. Mikey and Jo's bro Roy came along for the ride as well. (further reporting of the festivities can be found, not surprisingly, on the blogs of Jo and Jeremy and Mikey)
The theme of the party was "hats", and we were stars of the show with our folded newspaper hats, made from a particularly classy tabloid Jeremy found, every page of which seemed to be page 3. That is, all our hats had boobs.
Twas an awesome night, punctuated by the mild shock of the following exchange:
Me: Can I have two bottles of champas and a bottle of white wine.
Bartender (corks bottles, hands them over): Okay, that'll be 91 pounds.
Me (slackjawed): wha??
Thanks the the internets, I now know thats 225 aussie dollars. But even my hasty calculations on the spot told me it was at least a metric fuckload.
With the benefit of hindsight, I think perhaps there may have been a mis-translation to blame:
In Australia: champas = a bottle of your absolute cheapest locally-produced sparkling white wine, please barkeep.
In England, or this club at least: champas = champagne, as in real stuff from france, Veuve Clicquot in this case (fancy).
But we took it on the chin, and had a wikkid night anyway. It's New Years Eve after all!!
There was much dancing and merryment, particularly with a sensationally hot Romanian chick who might well have been called Julia, or possibly something else, who was pretty much throwing herself on every guy in the room, much to the chagrin of her boyfriend, who watched it all grimly! All good fun...
Time for pics.
The crew: Mikey, Jeremy, Jo, Roy (peeking over the back) and Moi.
A rather kaleidoscopic (I love that word) photo from Mikey:
J&J's flatmates Shannon and Brett, bottom right. General partiness elsewhere in the frame. Jef (party organiser) is in the shiny white hat far left.
Shake it awn down!
Expensive bubbly:
Happy New Year!!
After our venue closed, Mikey and I went cruising the streets and tubelines looking for something still open, for a while we joined forces with some randoms from the countryside, including this girl whose feet were sore from her shoes - nothing unusual there - but she refused to take them off because she has a phobia of feet. The mere sight of any unshod feet, including her own, sends her into a panic. Bizzarrre!
Anyway, wanderings largely uneventful, except for excessive tube travel, we stumbled back to J&J's at 5am and collapsed, which brings us to...
New Year's Day
New years day, hooked up with my second cousin (aka 2-Cuz) Alice, and her boy Martin, to watch a DJ set by the guy from the Rapture, at a pub in Camden, London's Glebey goths&markets burb. The set "started" at 3.30pm, and we got there around 3, twasn't even open yet. It started (without quotation marks) at more like 7 or 8pm, which afforded us plenty of time at nearby cafes and Japanese restaurants (actually only one of each) to catch up on, what, 4 or 5 years since we last saw each other? Hamner springs trip, whenever that was!
We shared tales of nights spent bum-style homeless in Europe, or catatonic and disoriented in places not necessarily on the map at all, and discussed various generalities and specifics about the past, present, and future, and promised to keep in slightly closer touch from now on.
Me, Martin, Alice:
In the far back, in the blue shirt, is the guy from the Rapture. Honest.
As you can see, pretty couchy and chilled out atmosphere. We all had several waves of tiredness, and second, third, fourth and fifth winds, but NYE sleep deprivation got the better of us at around 9pm, and we headed home for a well earned slumber.
Stay tuned for more!!
Just got back to Sweden. Where to start? Think I'll cover New Years Eve and Day in this post, and then work backwards to Christmas and the in-between bits later, mainly because I can't find the cable for my camera, but for NYE&D I can just steal photos from Jo, Mikey and Alice.
New Year's Eve
For NYE, I went to a party at a pub in Angel that was organised by a french dude called Jef, who was (I think) a vague acquaintance of a friend of the flatmates of Jo and Jeremy, with whom I was staying at the time. Mikey and Jo's bro Roy came along for the ride as well. (further reporting of the festivities can be found, not surprisingly, on the blogs of Jo and Jeremy and Mikey)
The theme of the party was "hats", and we were stars of the show with our folded newspaper hats, made from a particularly classy tabloid Jeremy found, every page of which seemed to be page 3. That is, all our hats had boobs.
Twas an awesome night, punctuated by the mild shock of the following exchange:
Me: Can I have two bottles of champas and a bottle of white wine.
Bartender (corks bottles, hands them over): Okay, that'll be 91 pounds.
Me (slackjawed): wha??
Thanks the the internets, I now know thats 225 aussie dollars. But even my hasty calculations on the spot told me it was at least a metric fuckload.
With the benefit of hindsight, I think perhaps there may have been a mis-translation to blame:
In Australia: champas = a bottle of your absolute cheapest locally-produced sparkling white wine, please barkeep.
In England, or this club at least: champas = champagne, as in real stuff from france, Veuve Clicquot in this case (fancy).
But we took it on the chin, and had a wikkid night anyway. It's New Years Eve after all!!
There was much dancing and merryment, particularly with a sensationally hot Romanian chick who might well have been called Julia, or possibly something else, who was pretty much throwing herself on every guy in the room, much to the chagrin of her boyfriend, who watched it all grimly! All good fun...
Time for pics.
The crew: Mikey, Jeremy, Jo, Roy (peeking over the back) and Moi.
A rather kaleidoscopic (I love that word) photo from Mikey:
J&J's flatmates Shannon and Brett, bottom right. General partiness elsewhere in the frame. Jef (party organiser) is in the shiny white hat far left.
Shake it awn down!
Expensive bubbly:
Happy New Year!!
After our venue closed, Mikey and I went cruising the streets and tubelines looking for something still open, for a while we joined forces with some randoms from the countryside, including this girl whose feet were sore from her shoes - nothing unusual there - but she refused to take them off because she has a phobia of feet. The mere sight of any unshod feet, including her own, sends her into a panic. Bizzarrre!
Anyway, wanderings largely uneventful, except for excessive tube travel, we stumbled back to J&J's at 5am and collapsed, which brings us to...
New Year's Day
New years day, hooked up with my second cousin (aka 2-Cuz) Alice, and her boy Martin, to watch a DJ set by the guy from the Rapture, at a pub in Camden, London's Glebey goths&markets burb. The set "started" at 3.30pm, and we got there around 3, twasn't even open yet. It started (without quotation marks) at more like 7 or 8pm, which afforded us plenty of time at nearby cafes and Japanese restaurants (actually only one of each) to catch up on, what, 4 or 5 years since we last saw each other? Hamner springs trip, whenever that was!
We shared tales of nights spent bum-style homeless in Europe, or catatonic and disoriented in places not necessarily on the map at all, and discussed various generalities and specifics about the past, present, and future, and promised to keep in slightly closer touch from now on.
Me, Martin, Alice:
In the far back, in the blue shirt, is the guy from the Rapture. Honest.
As you can see, pretty couchy and chilled out atmosphere. We all had several waves of tiredness, and second, third, fourth and fifth winds, but NYE sleep deprivation got the better of us at around 9pm, and we headed home for a well earned slumber.
Stay tuned for more!!
posted by I-Rock at 2:08 PM
4 Comments:
oooh - nice boobs on your head!
You dont get to say that often enough, now do you?
I want to live in a society where I can say that every day!
Dear I-rock,
Will your crotch feature in at least one photo in every post?
That kaleidoscopic one really puts things all out of proportion.
Cheers,
Lil' bro.
damnit, you discovered my other new years resolution!!
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