The year is 1994. I am 20.
The preparation to a night out begins with shaving my (then) boyfriend's head and helping him lace up his 18 hole Doc Martens, before pouring myself into skin tight black jeans and a body hugging crushed velvet black body, applying WAY too much scarlet lipstick and dousing myself in Body Shop Dewberry oil. Then the backcombing of my hair begins, followed by a can of Silvikrin hairspray. Given my penchant for smoking Rothmans and drinking Jack Daniels, I am a walking fire hazard.
Every Friday and Saturday night (and pretty much most weekday nights) is spent in the town's 'alternative' nightclub. The air is filled with Patchouli oil, visibility is virtually zero due to the cigarette/spliff smoke, and walking to the bar is like wading through treacle due to the snakebite and black sodden carpet.
In order to dance here you have to fight for your space. You either join the shoe gazers shuffling to the Jesus and Mary Chain, else you violently pogo with the punks and the skinheads to Sham 69. Nirvana unites everyone. A bit of Madness, Nightboat to Cairo tests your mettle, and here is where I perfected my somewhat 'confrontational' dance style which does not go down well at family weddings.
Then, something monumental happens. This song comes on. The moshing stops. Harmony reigns. There are arms held aloft. A head appears behind me and between my legs and I am raised aloft, 6 ft in the air. When I look down, I see a shaved head, completely covered in a spiderweb of tattoos and we gently sway. Everyone gently sways. When the song's over, I am returned to terra ferma. The mans does not utter a word, and I don't see him again. Even my (then) boyfriend doesn't kick off.
It's a beautiful moment.
I was tagged by the beautiful Nicki for Claire's meme: My Ultimate Christmas Song. I am now tagging:
Christine at Thinly Spread
Tim at Bringing up Charlie
Fi at Childcare is Fun