mrph | The Whitby review - Part 4

Firstly, a Saturday night addendum. Got back to the B&B, collapsed in a small heap and switched on the TV. Big mistake. The top news story was the Birmingham carbomb, close to New Street station. When you're drunk and WGW'ed-out, you really don't want to be thinking about where you might have been if you weren't in Whitby. Or where your friends in Birmingham were when it went off.

Sunday morning was a blur. People tell me I was conscious, vertical and moving. Some of them even claim to have held conversations with me. I think they're lying.

Went to the Elsinore. Drank beer. Woke up. Sat around chatting to the usual suspects (Ant, Andy, Needles, Tim, too many people called Dave), imago, Jane (felis humanis), yet more (new) Daves, someone who may well have been Fuzzy's brother.

Then headed off, slightly tipsy, for a very nice lunch at the White Horse and Griffin, with Alan, Markus, Heather, and Paul (the Leipzig mob). Much chatter and catching up on life/music etc, aided by a very nice bottle of red wine...

Ran into Paul (Sogoth) and Marc Elston on the way back, nattered for a bit. Marc appears to have had an entirely respectable Whitby. I'm in shock.

Then it was back to the B&B (via the Elsinore) to get ready for the 80's night.

Called via the Elsinore en route, to find the majority of the Cam/Cov/Keele goths less-than-enthused by the prospect of an 80's night in the New Angel ("No, we're not going. We're quite happy here, with our pints..." - Tim). Also ran into JohnS, Gina and gothslut, who were heading to the 80's night. This was about 6:30.

By this point I was drunk (and gullible) enough to be persuaded to carry gothslut (who was in 5" heels...) down the stupidly steep slope at the bottom of Flowergate. I think I was sober enough not to fall over or drop her, though. :)

The 80's night was... well, an experience. The New Angel is small. Or, at least, seems that way when you add x-hundred goths. drivenapart, giolla, coracaskia, ciphergoth, Tal, Fury, Triz, Kev & Carol and a few other familiar faces were already there. It was crowded, it was hot, the dancefloor resembled a floodlit postage stamp, and chaos ruled. The music was, as ever, great...

...but I just didn't feel like coping with those crowds for the full evening. Especially when it seemed that (despite the hand-stamps) the management were operating a "no readmissions" policy. And I had visions of the dancefloor railings doubling as cookie-cutters when "Nellie the Elephant" or "Sheriff Fatman" came on. It was bad enough dancing to Anthrax's "Antisocial"...

[I'm told it calmed down a lot later on, but I also know at least three people who just couldn't cope - a few panic attacks were triggered by the crush... :-( ]

So I joined Ant, Derek and Jane in a last-minute bid to get to Sexy Sunday instead. The plan involved grabbing a taxi, to get there with a minimum of time/fuss, before everyone else arrived. So out we dashed, waving at an arriving kitty_goth on the way.

Jane, who'd been planning to meet up with friends, hastily texted them to say "not at 80's night, now at Metropole".

We reached the Metropole. There was a Queue. For a second or so, we hoped that this was because they hadn't opened the doors yet. Nope. The management walked down the queue, reached a point several dozen people ahead of us, and said "anyone past this point probably won't be getting in. Sorry."

Cue Plan C - the Elsinore! Jane, at this point, sent another wave of text messages "not at 80's night or at Metropole. Now at Elsinore" (this was rapidly turning into comedy... :), but she didn't get a reply, and so dashed off to try to find the lost/confused people concerned. I'm not sure if she managed, as she never quite made it back.

We then reached the Elsinore, having travelled there at marching speed. We grabbed seats, ordered beer, and looked 'orribly smug when the rest of the Sexy Sunday turnaways arrived to find it packed. The Cov, Cam and Keele goths were still there, of course, a few pints on from where we'd left them. Things got silly - Graham Boyd has photos of many of the dubious events that followed (but, thankfully, didn't get me...). DaveH ended up wearing the Jerusalem Shades (someone always does...). Various other 80's night refugees turned up, and I spent most of the night talking to Keelegoths, coracaskia and Eddie Marcony.

Exhaustion caught up with me again at closing time, and I wimped out of Tal's post-pub party in favour of sleep, heading back to the B&B with DaveH/Tim/Iain (via the pizza shop, as it turned out. And I don't care what Iain says, kebab meat is not a socially acceptable pizza topping...).

Then home, sleep, and there endeth the weekend. Monday morning was grey and dry, filled with packing, haggling about B&B bills and thoughts about food-shopping. And the rest of Monday was sleep. I like sleep....