I did a really nice gig last night. They were lovely. I’m glad I put on a dress for them. They put me on in the second half, which is a compliment and nicer to perform, and gave me a bit of cake. The most I’ve EVER been paid to perform is a glass of wine, so a bit of cake is quite the haul. The problem with Friday night gigs though, is that I often end up in trouble afterwards. I think this is because I never drink before I go on stage, which leads to this faux virtuous/sober feeling.
“Look at me! It’s 10pm on a Friday and I haven’t even drunk anything! I’d better down this entire bottle of gin. I have ephemerally earned it in some way by being in a bar but not being hammered yet.”
So then I go a bit too far into mental fun seeking mode. Long story short, me and my friend H ended up gatecrashing a college party.
We did know someone there, but we definitely weren’t invited. The thing is, I’m a bit obsessed with the Oxford colleges. It’s like that feeling you get when you really fancy someone who annoys the crap out of you. I hate them, but I can’t leave them alone. I can’t bear it that there are spaces I’m not allowed to go in, so I sneak in every time I get a chance, just to look around and sneer at their common rooms (the common rooms are rarely that good) and be overwhelmed with anger at the unfairness of a system where the lion’s share of the resources we have as a society are slung at a lucky few. So, obsessed, and have always wanted to go to one of their parties.
And it was … endearingly shit. Really fun, and incredibly friendly, but the least cool thing ever. Most of the men were dressed as some sort of topless santa, and everyone hung around the common room (think a very clean, fairly upscale working men’s club for a visual) and danced to one of the college guys djing. The music was basically all the hits of 2004. Heavy rotation of Kaiser Chiefs and The Killers. H and I were delighted by this policy (I was a first year in 2004, it hits a nostalgia nerve) and did loads of enthusiastic dancing and drinking. That’s another thing about colleges. Insanely cheap booze. They all have bars, and in the one’s I’ve been to (admittedly, not many) it’s £2 a drink, whatever you want, max.
And then, at 1pm, it was over. Music off, bar closed, lights up, and all the topless santas set about putting the furniture back in the right places. 1pm. Really. 1pm. H and I objected. 1pm? C’mon! And were offered alternative entertainment. Going swimming in the river. Yesterday in Oxford, it hit -3.
H actually did it. Girl is FEARLESS.