Bank Holiday…what can I say?

Madness from Friday to Monday. Friday was The Night of the Lethal Punch. Jen took us to Muse on Portobello, where MyNottingHill was throwing a party. The punch began as a nice fruity mix of OJ, 7-Up and vodka with strawberries accenting it, and ended up a fuming screwdriver sidelining as a bathtub for the meningitis virus. Ewww…it was fun but the damn floor got so sticky that I was slipping all over the place. Pity the guy’s whose car all the party-goers where leaning on and using as a table for their sticky punch cups

On Saturday I trekked down to South London for a house party. It was quite cool because there was a load of instruments all hooked up and everyone was making music and moving about. It took me ages to get home after the bastard cab driver wanted to charge me 32 quid to get back to Notting Hill. Thievery.

On Sunday I hit the TDK Cross Central party where my friend Mocky got me and a plus one access all areas. Fully intending to leave at midnight, I ended up staying all night, dancing my ass off, talking, getting lost. losing my friend Melissa and generally getting up to no good at all. Fantastic! They had some lovely masks for the taking and we each got one: hers had long black feathers that formed a sort of quiff when she wore it off her face. Against her dark hair, it was difficult to see where the feathers began. Class! Mine was half white and half black feathers, simply encircling the eyes and covering the top half of the face.

Finally, on Monday, I hit the Notting Hill Carnival at full speed and danced the afternoon away. As usual, I went to Jen and Dave’s and had a fab low-key day. The barbecue was working overtime and everyone enjoyed the guacamole that I made. God, I sound like a frickin Good Housekeeping spokeswoman there! Just as I reached my front door, intending to try to rest, a crazy house-trance float came round the corner. Well dammit it if I didn’t dance all the way back up Ladbroke Grove. Brilliant!