(no subject)
An unusual Thursday evening then. One that took place in a showjumping arena in Braintree, half full of our Burberry clad counterparts, the other half filled by us more, shall we say, open minded types. After your run of the mill supports, 'Back Stage Sluts' (Good dancer) and 'Vatican D.C.' (About as individual as the next... individual), we were joined by those on the left. Words can't really do justice to the level of performance so I'll just leave it to your wandering imagination. Though the post-concert blues are still being suffered to this moment, what with the aching ears and reluctant neck. The soul thumping sounds and strobing lights of last night have made me even more determined to somehow cram in Reading to the already packed summer schedule - whether we manage to or not time will tell, though there surely isn't a more fitting way to end the summer than attending what it was invented for.
Nothing much else of notice to write home about this week, these drama essays seem to be getting the better of me at the moment but I'm sure I will manage to rush them all at the last minute as is usually the case. Oh I was also ill this week, but you don't really need to know. A heavy dose of the excellent 'Nathan Barley' was a pretty damn good remedy. Totally fuckin' Mexico.