The last few days...

I had a big piece written here, and then the blogger crashed and lost it all. Don't you just love it when that happens? Aaarrrrgggghhhh....

I'm just back from the exursion to the Isle of Wight, Away with the Fairies. It was different, something new, and not outrageously expensive. The timetable for the weekend was comprehensive, so I'll give you some extracts.

Fri 1pm: Board mini-bus with hangover and begin journey. Jokes begin to be told on the bus, and they quickly slide into Carry On humour. I go to sleep in an attempt to shake off the excesses of the night before.

Fri 6pm: We all arrive at hostel at Isle of Wight. We are all introduced to each other. I meet one of the 'facilitators' and find him to be hot.

Fri 9pm: Go to the pub. Conversation revolves around anal fisting. We go down a storm with locals.

Fri 11:30pm: Get back to Hostel and play a game of Pink Knickers. This is a game where everyone sits on a seat, all around a person standing in the middle of the room. The person makes a 'question-statement', and if that applies to a number of the seated party, they must get up and then scramble to sit into one of the other chairs left vacant. The person who is left standing has to give the next Q-S. It all starts off very innocently, with questions such as:

'Anyone ever been to Sweden?'

and quickly degenerate into:

'Anyone had sex at a bus stop?' (Oh, the scramble of people for that one...)
'Anyone performed a 69er?' (Asked by me)

Saturday 11am: Do an exploration workshop. Find that the group as a whole don't look upon bisexuality favourably. This gives food for thought, as I always thought it was the ultimate way of someone saying 'I won't be labelled'.

Saturday 6pm: We make Christmas dinner for ourselves. My group gets assigned the duty of the main course. Pastry with a meat or vegetarian filling. Against all odds, we pull it off. The kitchen is left looking like a bomb hit it.

Saturday 9pm: Have a pub quiz. Our table engages in blatant cheating, and still we get the lowest score at the end.

Saturday 11pm: By now very drunk at hostel. We all head into a room and play a game of pass the parcel. I win the present, but in order to be presented with it, I have to submit to a 'task': Getting lube rubbed all over my stomach and then two people blowing raspberries on it. Oooh Matron!

Sunday 1:30pm. Begin journey home. We are divided into two groups for each of the two minibuses. On the way home, we are flashed by one of the girls on the other minibus, who displays her rather substantial tits.

Sunday 5pm. Arrive back at apartment.

All in all, it was good. I met gays and lezzers that I hadn't met before, and that can only be a good thing. There's ANOTHER booze up for us again on Tuesday. Mother of divinity...

The picture of unity that is our apartment have finally managed to organise a TV. It's about time, though I'm not 100% happy with the deal (wrangled by one of my flatmates), and I have to collect the money from everyone to pay for it, but hell, it's been nearly three months without one. This is not good for Denis Of The Movies. It'll have to do.

Chill time for the rest of the night. Let my system eliminate the rest of the red wine from itself...