The hype for this event was considerable, certainly on Facebook anyway. Hardly a day went by where they didn’t throw up a bright, alluring image, drumming up excitement. I signed up early, and cajoled a few friends to jump in along the way. In our minds, it would be like a carnival inside, no expense spared, our jaws slack with wonder. It really wasn’t.
Don’t get me wrong, we had a great time – mainly due to the fact that we like each other and drank a lot. Partly due to the talented face-paint artists. But The Live Rooms (it was my first time there) was reminiscent of the Nottingham clubs of my youth: the sticky floor, the sickly smell of feet that’s soon, thankfully, was covered by the cool smell of the smoke machines. The decorations were okay – ranging from half-arsed pound land efforts to the much more impressive giant lit up skulls. But even through the haze of my alcohol addled mind, it wasn’t exactly what we’d been promised (or maybe just expected). If anything, it was a themed club night. At least the prices of the drinks were decent.
The event was pushed back by 45 minutes on the night – thank God one of us noticed – and to apologise the face painting was free – a real highlight for me. We went, mostly dressed in black and bare faced, wanting to be transformed. Once inside, we queued for about forty minutes, drinks in hands, then eagerly sat in the make-up artists chairs and closed our eyes.
They did a wonderful job and we were transported. A surprising number of guests had gone the whole hog pre-arrival, outfits, faces and flowers galore – which really made it a fun spectacle. The music started with early 90s and later on in the night, built up to trance – I think they missed a trick here, we were ready for Spanish beats, creepy halloween numbers or even some top 40 hits. The crowd really started to thin out around 3am, whether due to the music or exhaustion (We’d been revving up since 7pm and we’re no spring chickens). We stayed almost to the end, then walked home on weary legs.
It really took me back about ten years – the ladies toilets running out of loo roll, convincing yourself that Jagerbombs are a good idea after midnight, feverishly leaning over the bar, trying to compete, the desperate search for the coatroom peg. One thing’s for sure, we had a delightful Day of the Dead time of it, regardless of the shortcomings.