Things go together better than others.

Like manic depression and hyper sexuality.


Some big news took place this week. The club I have been attending since the baby like age of eighteen, is closing down.
To the naked eye, a run-down hovel. To the seasoned youths of Luton, a glittering path to vodka shots, lots and lots of beer and cider; where there's music and dancing til the early hours, seedy happenings and many memories which are best left in the unearthed file entitled 'what happens in the edge, stays in the edge.'


It can be summed up with empty bottles, swelling hearts, lightweight feet and troubled minds. For most, it is the scene of many crazy choices, inane and pretentious ramblings and the most fun in the whole world. A place for reckless and youthful behaviour only, I will be visiting for the last time tonight and I will be toasting to very good friends and memories and to being twenty one. Not Eighteen.