Hotflush Monday January 25, 2016 10:01
Hello, ladies and gentlemen. I've got the holiday blues today, and it's not even #BlueMonday anymore. I spent the weekend in Birmingham, for some reason, and am now back at my desk in London wondering where the time went. Forty eight hours ago, I was treating myself to a hand massage in Jo Malone and thinking about which Wetherspoon's to go and have my lunch in. Twenty four hours ago, I was sat in my mum's living room looking at the Coronation Street omnibus and trying to chew the jam on toast she'd kindly prepared for me, my jaw swinging all over my lap and sweat squirting out of every orifice.
My mum said, "Tonks. What's up with you, mate? You look like you've been up all night at a pikey Digbeth psytrance event doing all sorts of God knows what and loads of ecstasy E tablets."
I think that's what she said, anyway. I was at the stage when it's impossible to listen to anyone properly or talk anymore, so I closed my eyes and played dead. It's really hard to pretend you're sober to your mum when you're eyeballs are just the pupils, you've got florescent face-paint paint painted all over your face and you stink of poppers. She went out for a Balti soon after, so I was able to enjoy my whatever in whatever.
I love visiting Birmingham, but I'm glad I moved to London in 2004. You're not restricted to psytrance nights every weekend in London; you have nights like the Craig Charles Funk and Soul Club and Scuba's 12 Weeks of Techno residency at XOYO (tickets available for all upcoming nights here).
There we go, got there in the end.
I'll be back...tomorrow.