Tric to Tric....

To be honest this last year has been rather stressful, the only method of communication being the ever so unreliable facebook due to the death of several flashy phones. Despite this many a romantic eve has been spent chatting "tric to tric".

Now attentions must be turned to this years babe filled island events, with the three slags and a fag being outstretched around the country not only are these occasions babe-filled and tradition but now a rather special and emotional reunion and often farewell. In this sad state of affairs BALX has become somewhat of a black sludge ridden mecca...

Anyway...one must not deviate. Thoughts of the four are now turned to firstly easter. Now in easter there are no actual events except for perhaps the Chalk family annual easter egg hunt and breakfast, traditionally a circuit of Oakfield ending in the warm,where we set off from. A trek with a high risk of mugging, treading in dog shit, in the rain, hanging out of my arse whilst my spritely and skinny cousins bound joyfully onwards in search of the chocolate that I know I can not eat, my teeth feeling like i've eaten glass after one too many WKDS. Anyway- an invite is extended to all..

So apart from the hunt, own fun must be made- I would imagine this will entail a passionate and excitement filled(premeditated for weeks) trip to "FREE N EASE" where we will dress in our sluttiest get up and still look like Ryde private mothers shuffling around the floor,gins a'sloshing. Once the joy of being surrounded by 15yr old twigs wears off and depression sets in...on to town. Spoons, with a quick ejection of some Andy Munn, for a handful of double sailors jels or perhaps if we are graced with Gods presence,gin and cokes all round. All of our school friends will be sat together "catching up" we will not look,speak or address them for no apparent reason but sit guffawing alone in a corner with some old gits-namely pip and Jason's sugardaddy-Nick Lillet.

Once being removed from this establishment for wine theft, intoxication, flashing or the devouring of a charc- the sheep usually provides a sweet 16th to try and get in or a humble slippery nipple to sup. It is a weird place, either completely dead bar the carnival queen sat there in his bastard leather,come rain or shine.."Cassey, ow ar'ya, I juss wana doo muuusik" puffing on a rollie. Or, its the sort of place if you are planned/hoping to see someone, however random it is for them to be there-they will be...quite magical. This kicks out quite early, the cool half to kaz, cheesy bastards to liq.

.....So liq for us. LIq these days seems to be full of sandown/shanklin exports plus rural guests with 15years old girls draped around them...It was our scene-now it is not. Many a night has been made in LIq, but after the disappearance of DJ Trev, its gone down hill. Its now only good for a reef bought my an older drunk. Kasbah, pricey..good for pilfing a cig/hanging around...not really a place for fun however so Honk comes into play... but thats a whole other story. Basically I have just detailed an average rydell Saturday for no apparent reason...This is more of a routine practiced to military precision,if anything.