Saturday evening: two wined-up parties in a row, necessitating a Sunday of hangover and recovery, though it’s not one I regret.<\/p>\n
First up is Dedalus Books’s 25th anniversary do, held at the Camberwell home of the publisher’s chairman, Juri. It takes me a fair while to get down there (a long single tube ride from Highgate to Oval, then a bus), but it means I get to watch people coming and going on the train, in the process of going to their various Saturday night parties. At one point a couple of large ladies in army camouflage gear get on, clearly off to a dress-up party. One of them accidentally jabs me in the ribs with her plastic baton.<\/p>\n
At the next stop another lady gets on dressed as Wonder Woman, or rather Wonder Woman’s more worn-out-looking cousin, en route to a different dressing-up soiree. I myself am in a cravat and tie-pin and make-up added to the usual suit, my eventual destination also a dress-up event, White Mischief. But given I’m in the presence of far more outre attires during this early evening Tube journey, for once I feel relatively inconspicuous.<\/p>\n
Within minutes of arriving at the Camberwell do, I’m put to use in my capacity as an allegedly able-bodied young-ish man. Host Juri, an older gentleman, has put his back out, so I carry a couple of cases of wine up the cellar stairs for him. It’s the closest I’ve come to manual labour in a long time.<\/p>\n
I chat to Wynd (from the Last Tuesday Society), and to Rowan Pelling, who’s there with her newborn – and impressively quiet – baby son. Fortuitously, after the Dedalus do she’s getting a lift to King’s Cross in order to catch her train home to Cambridge. King’s Cross is where I have to be for White Mischief, so I jammily find myself sharing a very pleasant and fast – and free – car ride between both parties, rather than having to negotiate the Tube at chucking-out time. In fact, after I finish my DJ set at 3AM, I take a perfectly calm and quiet Night Bus home, and save myself a taxi fare too. What I have to remind myself is that it’s only the hours between 10PM and 3AM that public transport can be an ordeal of noise and intimidation for the lone traveller. After 3 in the morning, either the archetypal lager-saturated youths are far too tired to raise hell, or they’ve already gone home.<\/p>\n
Thus, happiness is either an early night, or a very late one.<\/p>\n
When I get to White Mischief in time for my DJ stint (midnight to 3, with a band in the middle), the Scala is packed with dressed-up beauties in exotic takes on Victoriana, the theme being ‘Around The World In Eighty Days’. I’m immensely grateful to the stage manager for keeping me topped up with bottles of water while I DJ, as the temperature is absolutely stifling. My real sympathies go to the wearers of corsets.<\/p>\n