(Q1: define ‘a skirt’. Q2: draw and colour your favourite skirt…etc, etc)
it feels really fucking great to eventually make yourself feel really fucking horrendous by ruining your body, soul and mind with alcohol, dancing and stomping around in second hand Doc Martens.
Which are juuuuuust a tiiiiiiiny bit too small for you and render you a toxic, babbling cripple for the next few days.
Fun was had in an institute for the deaf, in an ex Belgian embassy and in various hip hop happenin’ spots around the classy, cosmopolitan, almost continental streets of Fallowfield.
The drizzle on the ice cream of indulgent weekend joy was definitely the honey rum that I ‘forced down’ on Sunday evening post-roast. All the way from ‘the island of doom’, El Hierro.
