Smokingboot

Maybe the music could have been better; Friday night at Jilly's has changed somewhat. I recall Friday night as being somewhat grungy, the dangers included inevitable harrassment by hobbits trying to bounce their way into your underwear, but the payoff was fine music.
Go away for a couple of months and everything changes; gone were the irritating squeakies, replaced by well-kitted demigoths and leatherettes. They looked great, but I don't know what they danced to. falco_biarmicus and I realised our desperation when we were almost considering grooving down to Eye of the Tiger. Fortunately our pride took over in time and we retired from the floor.

I did find music to bounce by, but it took an endless patrol of all four rooms to seek out occasional bearables. Admittedly, it was enjoyable when I found the right stuff; it's as though I've needed, just for a while, to not wear ultimate prettykit and pvc, not care about looking good, just leap around in jeans and t-shirt and forget everything except how good it feels to be in the combined vibe of friends and music again. There were hugs. I had forgotten how nice those are.

Friday night passed in great company, more of the same followed on Saturday, when we visited velvet_the_cat and Dan sans lj, and spent night and morning in conversation, punctuated by ver' nice fud indeed. Our hostess made us a fine steak pie, but even this could not compete with her chocolate mouse roulade, which looked like a cocoa sprinkled blanket rolled over on itself, and tasted so heavenly it was gone in seconds. Pouring cream over it helped, not just for taste but because it made strange mesmerising patterns with the cocoa.

Cocoa. That reminds me... could really do with going back to bed...