Fabric - Friday 27th October

On New Year's Eve, we were down at the Embankment watching the millennium fireworks kicking off. I remember thinking "Shit, how can 2000 come anywhere close to being as good as 1999?" 

'99 was a landmark year for me. New job, new flat, new city. It was quite clear however, by June, that 2000 had already wiped the floor with 99. Countless parties, Homelands, Morocco - all having it in a big way. The summer of 2000 went on to be a stupidly crammed diary of big days and huge nights, many driven by Rob, suggesting he was leaving us for 12 months (yeah, nice one bruvva!). We danced, we drank, we even jumped out of Ukranian aircraft. Above all we had huge fun and spent a shitload. 

Come September and Rob's leaving bash at the Dogstar I'm starting to fell the strain, physically exhausted, mentally retarded, financially not so much crippled, but certainly hobbling. The day after the Dogstar I took the rational and 'totally in control of my faculties' decision to retire from clubbing, effective immediately. And despite a cheeky weekend in Amsterdam, which slipped in there during a momentary lapse in concentration, I stuck well to that plan. Maybe it also had something to do with loosing a close friend - my brown Vans trainers.

Two events this week have brought together circumstances which were tempting me out of retirement. Firstly, the lovely Karen Rullo celebrates her birthday and second, I have new clean trainers that need breaking in. 

So Karen and I head to Fabric. After much texting each other that our trains are running late (Note to Mr. Prescott - sort it out for fuck's sake), we hook up and head to Fabric. Going in it is clear that at 25 I am nearly the oldest person in the place. Jesus, am I past it? Over the hill? Was retirement the right plan after all? I'm nervous!

It's my first visit to Fabric. First impressions are good. not sure about the music though. Drum 'n' Bass anyone? Eventually find a bunch of asian performers on stage. Decks, bongos, storming electric guitar and female vocalist doing that really cool Indian wailing/singing thing. Feels like I'm in Goa, apart from the absence of food poisoning. The music is now wicked and Karen and I are having it until 1am.

Then there's an hour of, frankly, weirdness. The music has gone to pot throughout the place and it's rammed full of teenagers. Someone points out that it is half-term after all.

All is well at about 3am however, when Karen announces that she "has got her groove back". This in turn rallies Drew, and we spend two solid hour absolutely having it, with the hardest, most frantic dancing effort I've pulled out o the bag since Homelands.

At 5am I look around - everyone is loving my action (wink!), and guess what? They're all twentysomethings. The kids have fucked off to bed and left Karen and I rulin' all over the dancefloor. So you see kids, we may be getting a bit crumbly round the edges, but we still lord all over you at 5 o'clock in the morning.

It's now 8am, I'm back at home. Should consider going to bed but I've put the Slinky album on, and right now Drew is back! and I'm savouring the moment.

cheers now,

Drew

8am, Saturday 28th October. West Drayton.

PostScript - After writing this, Drew sat around all day before Andy, Kaan and Paul dragged him kicking and screaming back into the city to do it all again. See the review here.