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and then I went out, and it was dark and everything

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Bugger me I’ve only gone and made it to 42!  The answer to the meaning of life and everything!

I won’t lie, there have been a few times I didn’t think I would make it this far, and, more times than not lately, when I have felt and acted twice that age.  However, for a few hours on Saturday (once I had stopped myself nodding off in front of the ‘Strictly’ final and made an effort to Shirley myself up) I was 22 years younger again.  At an Old Skool rave night at the scene of the one I attended on my 20th birthday back when Old Skool was well, erm, not old I guess.

There were many faces there who were also there last time.  There were of course, just as many who were not!  This time around it was slightly more sophisticated.  There were less glowsticks and luminous fishing lures in evidence and not as many bobble hats.  The hotpant, however, appeared to still be doing the rounds.  By ’rounds’ I mean, literally.  Some bottoms are a lot rounder than they once were and the hotpant is not a friend to everybody!  Not at this age anyway!

Would it also be mean and unfestive to disapprove of anyone younger than 36 attending an Old Skool reunion event?  I can’t say I was entirely comfortable watching the dance-round-your-bag brigade, 20 years younger than me making moves to the likes of Asha, ‘JJ Tribute’ or Wink’s ‘Higher State of Consciousness’.

There were a couple of recreational pharmaceutical casualties but we managed to avoid making any eye contact with the gurner posse.  Could not help but laugh at the botox babes who couldn’t have gurned even if they wanted to.  They looked as though they were having a hard time articulating their drink order at the bar to be honest!
Also enjoyed the shriekers.  “
Arggghhhhh I haven’t seen you in ages babe”  etc etc… like every time they saw   a.. n.. y.. b.. o.. d.. y……
OMG!  Calm down love!

My favourite part of the evening had to be seeing what appeared to be the last remnants of a taxi rank workers Christmas party storming out of the venue in cracker party hats shouting: “Don’t go in there it’s fucking wank.  Wank Wank, Wank I tell you!”  Such a glowing review only made me want to go and investigate further.  To be fair, I wouldn’t have gone as far as ‘wank’, but it was little on the dire side initially.  Once the over 40s club had livened up and loosened up and the Sanatogen had kicked in though, it started to fill up and bounce a little more.

All in all, I was glad I hadn’t fallen asleep in front of ‘Strictly’.  There were faces I was happy to see, some that I missed and some I’d rather not have ever seen again, but I had a good time.  I stayed out until 0130 and could have stayed longer if my partner in crime had wanted to.
I had a lot of laughs and more importantly,  me and Miss Sunshine looked great.

Job done!

Now I am going to undo all the good work I’ve done over the past couple of months and enjoy some drinks and sweet-based treats and enjoy the rest of Christmas and I hope you all do too.

Ciao for now peeps Xxx

Happy Birthday to me

Happy Birthday to me

You got anything dark & bassy?

You got anything dark & bassy?

Old skool pals

Old skool pals


Chunderbirds are go!

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Movie quote of the day:  “Holy shit where’s the Tylenol?” — National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation

Christmas play shizzles all done and dusted.  My childerbeast were, of course, fabulous!
Family gift exchange all done last week in Liverpool & Manc and still no sign of my newest niece.  To be fair she isn’t due until Saturday, which would be an awesome birthday gift if she arrived on time.

2 more ‘get ups’ to go before the end of term and nothing says Merry fecking Christmas like a sponging down children’s’ coats and cleaning out their shoes when another child has projectile vomited in the cloakroom!  Snap on the Marigolds and fire up the Anti-bac spray… I’m going in.

Today kids we will be calculating the surface area covered, of a spray of vomit travelling at approximately 70mph, through splayed fingers.

It was nothing if not extensive!


Meanwhile…. it is my 42nd birthday on Saturday and I am revisiting the site of my 20th birthday celebrations – Scarborough Spa.
I very much doubt I would fit into the same clothes, even if I still had them (which I don’t).  I do hoard my wardrobe items, it’s true,.. but not for that long!

Haven’t had a drink since October half-term.  I’ll probably pass out after 2 vodka and oranges and have to be taken home by 11pm!



Have a cheeky Christmas


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I appear to have purchased tickets for a Fac51 Hacienda revival night at Scarborough Spa Complex on my birthday in December!

22 years after I spent my 20th birthday evening at the same venue, blindly stumbling round in shock at how many of my so-called straight-laced ex colleagues from Sixth Form College were chewing off their own bottom lip and festooned in luminous fishing lures.

Rave generator, generates the ecstasy in me (& that).

I was a good girl and the closest I got to euphoria was an orange Calippo, a bottle of Purdeys & a birthday bunk-up when I got home!   Fave memory of that evening would have to be the amusement of male friend sellotaping wraps of speed to his nackers, sat legs akimbo in an armchair and asking my Aunt (who we were staying with) if she could see the lumps down his shorts from across the room and to touch him a bit to see if the sellotape had a giveaway crinkling sound.


Will be interesting to see how many 40 year old casulaties will be in attendance this time.  I may have to smuggle in some Voltorol, a hip flask of sherry & a tartan rug and hopefully there will be no necessity for any legs akimbo sellotape crinkle tests!

wave your legs in the air like you just don't care

wave your legs in the air like you just don’t care

Slightly more alarming than that thought, is that when I google image searched Scarborough Spa Galactica to try and get a picture of the original flyer to use on this blog, I saw 12 of my pictures from a post on here from the day before my 40th birthday, which included photos of my childerbeast.  Just proves what we tell the kids all the time in E-Safety lessons that once something is out there on the Information Superhighway, it is very difficult to get it back.


Gigness redefined and oh how time has flown

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Went to this weird ‘gig’ on Saturday night. 

Massive Attack Vs Adam (not Ian) Curtis

It was in a disused tram shed in a red light area of Manchester.  My dad parked the car outside and I strongly suggested that he disinfect the bonnet when he got home, as I feared it might be used for nefarious purposes. 

We were handed ear plugs on the way in and had received an email advising against high-heeled or open-toed footwear!  Apparently my “gigging experience was going to be redefined”.  I was ever hopeful, especially when I was informed that the building had been specially reinforced to “take the bass and volume”.

What I did define was that I could have done with a comfy sofa, a cuppa and packet of rich tea while I was assailed by a (somewhat depressing for a Saturday night) conspiracy theory youtube type rant on a dozen 20ft screens, whilst being blasted by old skool 1990’s floor to ceiling bassbins.

It’s been a while… but I could still handle the bass.


I admit to getting slightly distracted by the 40-something MDMA casualties who clearly thought they’d bought tickets to some kind of Hacienda reunion and arrived expecting a big rave-off!

The chick from the Cocteau Twins was fab and I loved the Karma Coma remix (the tommy gun shoot up went on a bit too long though).

If you enjoy spending a hot Saturday night in an old warehouse surrounded by 15ft lettering spelling out such cheerful memes as SUICIDE, PROZAC, YOU WILL ALL DIE ANYWAY and HEROIN then this was the place to be…

Meanwhile… 25 years ago tonight on 8th July 1988 I was having my end of year leaving high school house party.  Thank goodness there was no Facebook or text or Twitter back then!  We had a few gatecrashers (just a few) and suffice to say… it kicked off (despite advanced warning from the Bman who’d spotted the interlopers getting boozed-up in Barney Wines and tipped us off that they were en-route)

Thanks again to Officer Dibble who blamed me for “inviting the wrong kind of people”(ermm hello  they were gatecrashers) and nice job with picking them all up when we gave you all their names and where to find them… oh no hang on they get no comeuppance for attacking my family members with bottles, smashing up my shit and generally being massive arseholes.

Way to go to Cousin Gus and his mates too who arrived 20 minutes after everyone had been sent home by the Old Bill and said “Oooh hasn’t anyone arrived yet? we thought we were late”Although my favourite line from that party was the lovely Dawn Burdock storming though the onslaught of missles yelling; “Right!  Which one of you bastards just laddered my tights?”


Happy days.