Reporting back from 48 hour binge

HAPPY NEW YEAR GORGEOUS READERXXXXXX PLEASE KEEP SWINGING BY IN 2010

WARNING: Dear cherished reader, the copy you are about to read has not been proofread.

After seeing in the New Year at a house party on Thursday night, my boyfriend and I went home at 8am to get a couple of hours kip before hitting another New Years Day party. 

In between major peaks of activity on Friday, we managed to walk through the park and have a boozy lunch with some pals yesterday, in which we proceeded to drink sambuca shots washed down with vodka tonics like they were going out of fashion. Not a super smart move, but because we are all over 30, we can handle it. 

Anyway, we then hit Brixton for a party at the Jam Club at around 7pm, where more drinking and dancing ensued. Like the rest of the revellers in attendance, we were like a bunch of hardcore Fellini-rejects who refused to say die.

Different sub-cultures/tribes were  present at the club, including:

·         *Techno Warrior girls (Looking like a cross between tank girl and a polished crusty. Complete with day glow sticks and jewellery, half-shaved heads and lots of dancing.Oh, and they don't smile)

·         *The Skater Boy (complete with perfectly low-slung jeans and cute friend)

·         *The his and hers matching anoraks couple (self-explanatory, really)

·         *South London Hippies

·         *Squat  people

            *Shoreditch New Rave types 

·         *Dolled-up girls dancing around hand bags

·         *Single white men, with shaved heads and looking very sweaty

·         *A bloke in a black father xmas hat

          *An Elvis person

 

HIGHLIGHTS included:

*Dancing to some great tracks

*Only smoking 2 cigarettes all night

*Someone telling me that I looked like Penelope Cruz

*Bonding with people and receiving many hugs 

LOWPOINS included:

*The toilet attendant who was hassling me for money everytime I was in the toilet and making me feel guilty for not coughing up. Problem was that I had no cash. Anyway, it was the Jam in Brixton not fucking Claridges.

*No seating, because all the smart people were lazing around on couches, so I was standing/dancing for about 6 hours straight.