NOT!!!!!

How can I express how glad I am that I decided to go to Slimelight? Well, put it this way: it makes the four evil months I spent in Cumbria that prompted my decision to go there seem more than worthwhile.

While my start to 2005 wasn't quite as surreal as that to 2000 (which involved climbing the thirteenth highest mountain in the country in the dark), it certainly gave it a good run for its money. (In as much as I ended up spending last night in Liverpool.) And it was better. And featured less mud.

Well, when the dongs sounded, I felt as baffled as I usually do at the turn of the year. There I was, at the wrong end of the country, hearing some messed-up happy techno bumph, surrounded by smooching couples. I'd seen some people I knew earlier on, and had been greeted by a DJ who claimed to own the club, thanked me profusely for turning up, and offered to play whatever I liked. (Not bad going, considering I looked black beeping metal, by the virtue of wearing in the region of three hundred spikes. (Oddly, very few people got hurt by this. In fact, the most damage that was incurred was when someone's boot buckles intersected with my fishnets.)) But, at that moment, I was on my own, amongst strangers. Noooooo, I thought, I should be at home, watching rubbish TV with my brother. (Who later claimed he'd spent the evening on his own, filming himself losing his mind via whisky and ranting about the evils of Jools Holland.)

But a couple of minutes later, I ran into Himal, who I met a couple of weeks ago, and the next four days proceeded to be pure brilliance, thanks to the fantastic (if incredibly silly) people who foolishly decided to grace me with their excellent company. You know who you are, but maximal coolness points go to Kris for offering me somewhere to go post-Slimes, Jo and Lars for providing the actual crash space, and Chris for also providing crash space and being immeasurably lovely and gorgeous.

(Yes, in strict disobedience of the normal laws of the universe, pullage occurred, and despite my usual inability to remain interested in anyone for more than two hours, I'm a bit smitten. He even has exactly the same theoretically-impossible taste in music as me. Sadly, he lives in Liverpool, which is fairly near to where I live at the moment, but miles from Whitstable. Ah well. Extremely happy nonetheless.)

No, I had never met any of these people in my life. :)

Other assorted bizarrities:

- Seeing an otherwise wholly trendily-dressed guy on Carlisle station in a Marilyn Manson shirt.

- Never try to go for a drink in London on New Year's Day. Me, York Alex, and his friends Nick and Simon attempted it, and found most pubs closed and those that were open full. We eventually ended up in a place called The Essex Serpent. Appealing-sounding name! (Essex being hell itself, never mind its serpents.) And after one involuntarily-served pint, an annoying random drunk guy came and sat with us, so we left and parted company early.

- Going through eighty-eight hours, only sleeping for eight of them, having no form of "uppers" whatsoever (except Jaffa Cakes) and feeling absolutely fine for it.

- Losing eight pounds (weight-wise) in the last five days (not healthy, but yay - back to my pre-Cumbria-induced-depression weight) and so unwittingly getting somewhat wrecked by a few quiet drinks. A guy on the platform in Crewe asked me if I was ok and I ended up spending the next twenty minutes rambling on at him at ninety miles an hour. He insisted I didn't seem drunk though.

So yeah. It's a good year already.