Once in Bournemouth, after a quick shower and change, we headed out for Tapas and I started really relaxing (wine and sangria does that for you) and then onto Godskitchen at the BIC.

Now I was slightly concerned that I wouldn’t be able to hack a night of dancing, it had been five years since my last night of this type (House, trance that kind of stuff) and I was not sure I still had the stamina for it. Secondly I had been up since ridiculously early, and I would be expected to still be dancing nearly twenty-four hours since I had last seen a bed! As soon as I got in there the music sorted me out, I felt five years younger! However I was aware that the tiredness might creep in at any point so I decided to swap the alcohol for water, as ending up hunched over a toilet later on in the evening was not the desired outcome of the night.

Somewhere not too long after midnight I started to flail, I was really tired and about to give up when thankfully my positive mental attitude kicked in (it’s good like that). I was determined to get through the tiredness, and that I did. By the time Paul Van Dyk hit the decks I was back on the dancefloor, glowsticks being flung in every direction in full force.

Around 4am I decided that it would probably be most sensible to head back to the hotel, we had to be out of our room by 10am and then I would be spending a couple of days with S’s parents, as it was I was likely to be in a half human state but I’d rather turn up like that then completely zombified. Three of us headed back, and I slept soundly (apart from being woken up to let the other three in an hour and a half later) until 9.45am when I woke up and realised I had slept through my alarm and only had 15 minutes to get out of the room!

Funnily enough that didn’t happen. But we did get out by 10.30am and the hotel manager didn’t mind too much. Before Southampton I had made a request to S that I get at least half an hour on the beach having missed out on the opportunity the day before. So the three of us, S, her friend Jim and I headed down to the beach for a bit of sunshine (and in Jim’s case a chance for a few more minutes of sleep!). It was only my second time in Bournemouth since I had moved away, but the first time I actually felt like a tourist. As we walked down to the beach it looked amazing, whilst we stood above the cliffs of Westbourne I looked at the bay, with the sunshine (and not too many tourists) it was absolutely beautiful. After admiring the view the next touristy thing I did was buy my housemate a present. I was feeling very guilty, as I had promised to do the washing up before I left, and with work and all I hadn’t had time. I knew it was lame but I was hoping that a brightly coloured kids beach windmill thingy and a stick of rock (along with the promise of doing washing up all week) would earn me some forgiveness.

We settled on the beach, with our cans fosters (yes I know it was 11am, but there’s nothing like hair of the dog to cure lack of sleep) and had a good natter whilst Jim slept. We also had a little paddle (the sea was bloody freezing though!) and after 45 minutes decided to head off as I was becoming a not very attractive pink colour. If only I tanned!

On to Southampton, where we were greeted with a BBQ prepared by S’s parents, which was exactly what we needed. Being Easter weekend her parents did Easter egg distribution (they’d even bought one for me, so nice of them!) and then S’s birthday presents. Oh yes, I forgot that bit, the whole reason I had organised to spend this weekend with S was because it was her birthday and in the past I have made a regular habit of managing to miss birthday celebrations of any kind for her. I had bought her the inspired gift of ‘How to Walk in High Heels’… a nod to a slip up she’d had in Piccadilly Circus a few weeks earlier that had resulted in a trip to A&E the following day (and a diagnosis of severely sprained ankle!!!). I also hoped it might educate her a bit in the likes of Manolo Blahnik so that we could have meaningful shoe conversations one day in the future.

Monday was equally as lovely, with some more of S’s family coming for a roast dinner, which was absolutely divine. The only down point was that I couldn’t drink because of the drive home, but I did have a small glass of champagne as it would just have been rude to say no to that! Dinner was finished off with homemade profiteroles… a mountain of them, which I ate far too many of, but they were delicious. I had never considered making profiteroles before (they come out of boxes from supermarkets don’t they?!) but I may try it out myself (after many many gym sessions working off the last lot!)

Eventually I headed back to London, and visited my first service station (well ok, I have been to lots in my time, but I have never been the one driving!). I had forgotten to go to the toilet before I left, but as a result discovered the joys of driving by yourself, you can stop when you want and spend as much time having a cup of tea as you want without anyone moaning that ‘we really should be moving again by now’.

I returned in one piece and immediately did the washing up, so when my housemate got in there was a clean kitchen and silly beach presents. I am pleased to say I have been forgiven (although I don’t think she was in a mood with me about it anyway, I must have just had paranoia from my own guilt!)

The low points of the weekend (have to get this bit out of the way): Being ridiculously tired on Friday night and dancing with my eyes shut at the Islington Academy. The worst DJ in the world ever trying to bore us to death in The Roxy after forking out £9 to get in. Getting up on Saturday morning at 7.15am to make phonecalls for work…

The high points: Cosmopolitans at E’s. Going to the toilet at Cat’s. Everyone looking damn gorgeous. The pastries E went out to get from Columbia Rd this morning. Beyond Retro on Cheshire St. My new dress. E’s bed (though a low point for E as she gave it up for Lady B and I). Bargain sunglasses. All the random conversations.

I have managed to have a weekend away in my own city and a bloody good one at that, knackered now though…

I did do some socialising at the weekend – and somehow ended up in an Indian restaurant at sometime just past midnight on Friday night after a beer or two… Saturday I was much more civilised and ended up in O’Neills on Wardour St – for any of you that remember the good old days of Bliss in Southport (or even before that when it was the Astoria) the top floor was just like that… including the feeling of being far too old and far too sober (I had only had a couple of glasses of wine, and it seemed to be alcopop city in there!)

I’m starting to get itchy feet, I haven’t planned any trips yet for this year but I have a week off in March and I’m desperate to go away… I’m think Paris or Barcelona, though my housemate has suggested Amsterdam (but I did go there in 2003). Also signed up for Glastonbury (my photo is shocking!) and hoping to book the summer hol in the near future – Croatia maybe? And there’s Munich to look forward to at the end of the year, just need to have the debate of Oktoberfest Vs Christmas Market (I think I might be swayed towards the latter – you can get beer all year round, but mulled wine is only once a year!)

Right I better sign off – hopefully I’ll update this again in less than 4 or 5 months, I’ll be impressed with myself it’s a month or less… mind you in a couple of weeks Lady B (oops it’s Queen B now) will be down and I’m sure there will be lots of mischief – I just have to keep E and Lady B away from the cheap vodka, I can’t carry two people home!

So in summary – I have a better job, I’m working longer hours, I have a car, I need a holiday – and places like Bliss still exist!