On Friday I decide to give Scott both his sunglasses and the birthday card with the 32 Reasons. Well it’s more an A4 page that I tore off a notepad and wrote the reasons on than an actual card, but it still counts. So I leave work and I go to the gym and then home to get changed and then head to the party. I get there around 2030 and make attempts to chat to some people and then suddenly it’s midnight and everyone rushes to catch the last tube home because they want to get some decent sleep before going to Brighton Pride on Saturday.
It seems that around 96% of the party guests are actually going to Brighton. Note to non-UK residents: Brighton is on the coast, about an hour on the train south of London and I think it’s generally recognized that it hosts the best Pride in the UK – if your idea of a good Pride is seeing the same old people that you see in clubs in London, but getting off their faces in a different location. Which mine is.
The party on Friday night is summed up in Orville’s text message the morning after, which says: “Cheers to you and Scott for last night. You have cool friends who are a credit to the international ___ trade. Am off to Brighton after all, so I will keep my eyes open for the famous scooter”.
On Saturday we wake up at Scott’s place and I continue reading American Psycho as he tidies up / packs everything we need for our day trip (i.e. chicken breasts, sunscreen, chocolates, bottles of water). Everyone else that we know gets the train there, but we ride Scott’s scooter, which gives me plenty of time to listen to my iPod and not talk to anyone. On the negative side, after an hour and a half of sitting there my ass hurts and I can hardly walk.
Anyway, at Brighton Pride (just imagine a big park with dance tents / food stalls / lesbonyms / fairground rides / gays in all forms, shapes and sizes / police / straight people who came for the free party), the following things happen:
Scott and I park the bike and start making our way through the park. Until we get to the shallow, muscle Mary dance tent where all our friends are and we belong, I worry that we look quite blatantly like London queens whose lives revolve around the gym and taking steroids. Scott tells me that I shouldn’t worry, because this is actually what we are.
I spend the following 6 hours:
- sitting on the grass / standing outside the dance tent with Donnell, Brendan, Spunky, David, Moore and many other friends who I haven’t given nicknames to and I can’t be bothered
- walking through the dance tent / dancing in the dance tent, saying hi to and air kissing dozens of other acquaintances who I wouldn’t even know the real names of
- feeling upset and very self conscious when somebody walks past who looks unrealistically good
- making myself feel better by thinking that everyone who looks good is on steroids, even though I’m sure that’s not entirely true
Here are some pictures from the day.
Near the end I start passing out, because obviously the excitement of the day has been too much (I also blame a potential sunstroke – nothing else) and Scott is kind enough to take 3 videos of this on his mobile phone. Also, it conveniently happens outside the dance tent as the party finishes and everyone starts coming out, which I’m sure is doing wonders for my reputation.
When the event ends at 2000, we hang around a bit and eventually make our way to a friend’s hotel room, where around 10 of us spend the following 6 hours:
- lying in bed together and chatting
Err...that’s it really.
Oh wait, something else happens. At some point Brendan tells us that he found a digital camera on the ground in the park and when he starts looking at the pictures he realises that he knows some of the people that appear in them. So he plans to return it to them. Then we have the ingenious idea that before he returns it maybe we should take some more pictures with it, therefore giving them a nice surprise. These pictures include: Donnell’s abs / Donnell’s underwear / my knob.
Finally, everyone else plans to go to a club which starts at 0400, but instead Scott and I get back on the scooter and drive back to London. We get home around 0500, take some Valium and sleep for a few hours.
I have 2 songs by Beth Orton and I’ve played them 17 times
I have 2 songs by Bette Midler and I’ve played them 79 times
I have 1 song by Beverly Knight and I’ve played it 7 times