World Headquarters

After consuming two bottles of Absolut Raspberry and Vanilla vodka, (which is unrecommended drank with lemonade - it's reminiscent of cherry drops and dispersible aspirin in some god-awful, medicinal tasting fusion), and a drunken half hour spent dancing with three men to The Best of Whitney, I tottered into town to carry on the frolics at World Headquarters. It took a while to get the aforementioned men (Kiwi and our housemates James and Conor), out of the house first. Kiwi spent the most part of the night plying James and Conor with alcohol to 'seduce' them into clubbing with us, then the three of them spent an hour fannying around ironing outfits and styling each other's hair in some scene from a parallel universe where men have become, well...women.

The occasion was my good friend Roseann's birthday. We caught up with them some three and a half hours late in a little wine bar called The Vineyard. It's barely the size of my front room but it's got a great atmosphere - playing salsa music that you can't help but have a little gyrate too. And if you've nobody to gyrate with, there's always the token Latino ladies-man nearby to help out. Some of the said Latino men are a little greasier than others unfortunately - Kiwi and I watched two pretty ladies being hauled about the bar like salsa puppets by a couple of the greasier ones, look pleadingly at James and Conor to save them. The sentiment was lost however, as James and Conor were too engaged in each other... They picked the wrong type of men to bat their eyelashes at.

When we finally arrived at the affectionately known 'Worldies', I for one was busting to get onto the dance floor. Usually an ecletic mix of reggae, jazz, soul and funk, Worldies plays the likes of Bob Marley, Lionel Ritchie and Stevie Wonder and the DJ has been known to say 'we only play black music.' Bizarre for a club which is based on the likes of Northern Soul - bringing white and black communities together for some international love and dancing. But I like to think the DJ refers to the style of music, rather than the artists' ethnicity. Last night, it was a surprising mix of not only the usual sweet tones of Stevie, but bizarrely some 90's R&B and I think what's known as Garage (or something just as chavtastic). It made a nice change though for the old school classics to be interspersed with songs that I last heard at a school leaving party and could happily bump and grind to. Usually Worldies intersperses the classics with 'hits' only the over 30's would recognise, and if I don't know the lyrics, my dancing shoes don't seem to work.

All in all a fantastical night was had, and I'm typing this from my bed, at nearly 1pm, having not left the arse-shaped crater in the mattress yet... Kiwi tried to for half an hour earlier but he's here next to me now, having crawled back under the duvet mumbling something indiscernible about his head. Time for me to go for a run though. It's a beautiful day outside and as I'm not a big drinker (drunk to me is two vodkas), I haven't got a hangover to excuse me from wasting an entire morning. Today was supposed to be a 'rest day' in our training, but we slacked off yesterday's run, so guilt is dragging me out from Kiwi's side and a day of laziness.