Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts

Monday, 2 September 2013

Slow & Low at Feastival


You know you're getting old(er) when a days-worth of dancing at a festival leaves you with cramp and aches that even Jessica Ennis hasn't felt. However, it's good to know you're not coffin dodging just yet when you remember it was SO worth it.

This year's Feastival (@thebigfeastival) was unbelievable, not least because on top of the incredible acts taking to the stage and diet-busting smells sailing around from Jamie Oliver and his mates cooking up a storm, there was a fantastic crowd on site full of smiles and all having their own great time.


Our day went something like this...

Waking up to sunshine, pouring into the unitard and deciding today wasn't a day to worry about love handles. Piling Team into the car, turning up the radio and bouncing round the countryside and into Alex 'Blur' James' farm. Joining in the debate on what to do first and breathing a sigh of relief that we're all on the same page when we say "bar". Getting distracted by having beautiful feathers tied into our hair by the seriously sweet Lisa at The Feather Tree (@TheFeatherTree) and having the ubiquitous picture-in-front-of-the-sign shot. Bee-lining to the Birra Moretti (@MorettiUK) bar and reveling in the fact that not only does the beer taste like nectar, but the staff are pretty damn cute in their red bomber jackets. Realising that Duke (@Dukeofficial) are hitting the main stage in 10 minutes but handily aware that our bar of choice is right next door. It's almost as if we planned it. Starting the 10-hour dance marathon when Ed, Flynn and Markos drop their beat boxing bomb and ignite the crowd. Realising that the lyrics they often sing in a Club, probably aren't going to be the same as at a daytime family gig. Realising this a little too late. Loving the sound of drum n base played beneath a cornflower blue sky. Heading back to the Moretti stand only to think that it's a slippery slope and we should really walk around the site first. Good plan. Just so happens we find ourselves at the Doombar stand with their customised American Airstream bar, chilled mini bottles of Sauvignon and spiky palm trees nestled into powdery sand. Feeling the sun on our backs and talking to anyone within a metre radius, sharing stories. Beginning to feel a little like groupies when we clock that Duke are playing their second set at the bandstand stage, right next to us. Bouncing to Blurred Lines and Insomnia and deciding all this exercise undoubtedly warrants another round. 





Meeting DJ BBQ (@DJ_BBQ) and his achingly cool team who have the butchest job on the festival circuit by manning a grill your dad would be jealous of whilst hitting the decks with the smoothest soul and dance tracks this side of legal. Keep it slow and low boys. Losing phone signal and rejoicing in the fact that no-one can get through to you (what work email?). Braving the yummy mummies and dodging Mclaren baby strollers. Having the best ride of my life on the ferris wheel (keep your minds above your navel, people) and singing (badly) to Bernhoft. Being blown away by the beautiful Lianne La Havas (@liannelahavas) and closing our eyes to Is Your Love Big Enough. Wanting her backing singer's seriously massive hair. More refreshment in Birra Moretti and being called in front of the camera for interviews. Plugging everyone we know. Bigger tunes with the Beat & Meat boys and getting everyone dancing on the tables. Being told off. But with a smile. Unexpectedly bumping into friends and lots of hugging and even more laughing. Using powers of persuasion (and a pretty blonde) to get back stage. Being unimpressed. Getting psyched up for Basement Jaxx (@TheBasementJaxx) and not being at ALL disappointed. Feeling the music through our chests so brilliant and powerful it almost hurt – but actually that may've been a case of too many cigarettes. Dancing like the flames. Having a light bulb moment when I clocked that I had been too busy dancing/talking/drinking/smoking/laughing to actually dive into all the incredible food that had been on offer all day. Listening to everyone's food porn accounts of what they had eaten. Starving off the hunger with one last bounce around to DJ BBQ, collecting a friend from meeting Jamie Oliver and enjoying real hugs with new friends. Wishing the day would never, ever end. Who's ready for round two?



















 


Sorry there aren't any pics of any Basement Jaxx madness but a SLR really isn't the prop of choice when your dancing is giving the Maasai a run for their money. 

Huge thank you to Shelle Duffin. Check out her blog: myboiledeggsandsoldiers.blogger.com here & follow @Shelle_Duffin

Friday, 22 February 2013

Easy On The Salt

Apparently it's National Margarita Day. And guess what my favourite cocktail is?  Apparently I drink enough Triple Sec for there to be a national holiday. 
Worrying. 
They taste like holidays in a tall glass and take moments to make with very little shaking and mixing and requiring half of Oddbins to produce.
So in the spirit of all things Tequila, reach for your lime and Patron and rustle up a cocktail. It is Friday after all. 
Have a great weekend. X

3 parts Tequila Blanco - I'd go with Patron
2 parts Triple Sec
1 part lime juice

Salt the rim of your traditional coupette glass (use a slice of lime to dampen the edge to ensure the salt sticks)
Mix together your ingredients
Strain into your glass
Drink
Repeat


Credit where credit's due: Pic from the BBC

Friday, 19 October 2012

I have a Pacha for Ibiza

"People will stare – make it worth their while."

There are pinch-me moments in life and my holiday in Ibiza was one of those. Fabulous people in a fabulous location. I really am one very, very lucky girl. 
Thank you guys for the almighty pick-me-up.


Starting off on Dire Air, buying coffee and Jack Daniels, raising our eyebrows and having the first backgammon lessons. Leaving the cold and rain behind and arriving to sunshine and the world's most beautiful villa. Embarking on the weekend shop and filling five trollies with enough good, bad and bbbbaaaadddd rosé to fill... our fridge. Hearing about Kenny Powers for the first time ("See, in life, when you have talent all the other shit doesn't matter.") 
Welcoming the second wave of people, cracking open the rosé, unleashing the dares and turning the music UP. Cushions for modesty. Falling over and gaining serious bruises. Recovery games of backgammon. Long lunches washed down with more rosé at Es Xarco. Third wave of people and making new gorgeous friends. Meet and greet over too many Marlboro Lights ($5 a pack) and San Miguel beers. "Oh do come on." Starting the bbq and being delayed by a cigarette run and a karaoke sing song. Parties in the pool house. Swimming in heels whilst the sky is afire with lighting. Squashed into the back of hire cars, getting dead legs, dead bottoms and working up a thirst. Pacha and dancing by yourself. Xarco liquid lunch number two, tasting the local hierbas liquor. Laughing. A lot.  Being introduced to Chimpanzee Riding a Segway (You Tube it.) 
Going backless and painting on the glitter for a night at Lio. Getting blown away by the sexiest cabaret and the legs of the waitresses. Seeing some great friends put on a routine to rival the floorshow. Tasting the most delectable lobster. Watching Big Brown Bear really enjoy his massage and Nacho Libre not utter a word. Getting told off by waitresses. Discovering how gorgeous vodka and strawberries are. Dancing in masks. Fresh air. Meeting a hot blonde and the not-so-hot-definitely-a-man friend. Hitting KM5. Stroking a super beard. Leaping over fences in stilettos and getting drenched in the rain. After party number two. Chilling in the sunshine, swimming in the pool. Cuddles. Emotional goodbyes. Watching friends do a 10 point turn to negotiate a corner in the hire car. Falling in love with the white linen beauty of El Chiringuito and enjoying the tunes on the sand. Not enjoying the nudists quite so much. Choosing white sofas over go karting. Doing the corner in the Panda in one. Yes, in one. Rockstar farewells at Ibiza airport to more departing friends. Discovering great music in an understated bar in Ibiza old town. Dancing like a fiend. Knowing who your friends are when they prevent a bar dweller resembling Jimmy Savile filming your salsa moves. Hugging old men called Eric. Feeding the pony. Cheering every time our sober driver negotiated a roundabout, turn or signal during the drive home. Powering up some Adele for a final house party. Mishearing "Text Me." Waking up to beautiful sunshine and ensuring maximum tanning time. Deciding on one last lunch at Es Torrent. Experiencing a wallet-ectomy. Packing and the general gloom of going home. Lots of hugs, promises and maybe a few tears. 

Ibiza, you totally broke my heart. XxX



























Credit where credit's due: Me, various friends cameras & Tumblr