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Welcome to partyvibe too raaaraaaraaa

not nearly the first, but still pretty fuckin’ good,
spangled, trippin’ hard, lost 4 days.:weee: :crazy_dru :crazy: :love:
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‘Farmer Barnrave’ blog taken from my myspace account. A light hearted approach, hopefully it might help. Feel free to edit and make any necessary changes if you decide to. Regards, Holeydel

AAARRRR!! Hold up a mo, let me put you up to date. My sis was down this weekend along with her fella Bongo which really only meant one thing, a rave was on the cards. Only question was where in fuck will we end up this time? It was another one of those ‘phone this number after midnight and we’ll let you know’ type raves. Read my ‘Road Rave’ blog and you’ll get an idea. So began the pre-rave ritual: First to an off licence to buy a crate, next was pull out an atlas to help with directions, put on a pair of old trainers (bloody forgot that one didn’t I) and finally, make sure I was wearing a rave hat. Phoned the rave number and the next stop was Swindon, some 75 miles away and the closest I’ve ever intentionally been to Wales. Better bring my packed lunch then. Turns out we’re heading off into the sticks somewhere to rave it up in some poor farmers barn. After then driving at 30 miles an hour through all these narrow country roads for what seemed like an eternity we finally arrived into the barn sometime after 4am and was ready to bounce around in all the mud, amongst other shite. Walking towards the barn dodging between the cars I finally gave up cursing to myself after stepping in the fifth cow pat. Before we met the barn entrance we had to get past ankle deep rivers of shite by crossing an obstacle course made up of beams of wood, sheet metal, planks, not to mention doing it without bumping into other ravers crossing. Proper Crystal Maze stuff it was, half of me was expecting to go arse over tit whilst the other half expected a baldy fucker at the end of the course handing me a crystal telling me I have an extra 5 seconds in the Crystal Dome.

More worryingly though, I had the distinct feeling I’d be falling in that shit river later in the morning.

There we were then, raving in a barn for the next few hours meeting fellow techno freaks, exchanging stories of other parties, finding out how far everyone had travelled from etc etc. And then came the idea of having some laughing gas…

Feeling myself blacking out I still had enough sense to think to myself ‘I will NOT be falling in that shit river!’ and used all of whatever conscious energy I had left to run to what was probably only half clean area of the farm. A quick blackout and mini-fit later I’ve jumped back on my feet with a worrying look coming from my sister and Bongo in hysterics wishing he’d caught the fall on camera. And they say balloons are for children. They never taught me that trick at the Ronald McDonald parties.

Taking a break from the raving we crashed out in a great big pile of animal feed which was so soft if you weren’t careful you’d soon sink down and be swallowed underneath. There are probably a couple of passed out ravers still under there as I write this. Poor farm animals will get a shock when their farmer accidentally gives them a couple of bodies to feed on.

Waking up from my slumber at 7 in the evening on the Sunday and feeling more wrecked than a porn star breaking some sort of record, I opened my eyes to reveal that I’d somehow managed to take half the farm with me when I returned home. There was mud and compost all over the floor, I had animal feed stuck to my back which was a right bastard to get off, and there was a distinct ‘moooo’ sound coming from my closet – but I daren’t not look. I went back to bed again at 2am and, for now, I’m feeling good. Until the next one at least….