Sunday, 31 July 2011

Vintage at Southbank

Hmmm, if I ever wanted the definition of 'hubris', remembering this weekend's events might well become my go-to reference point. Well, Friday anyway.

Thursday night I was fairly happy with everything I'd organised, and if not exactly sleeping like a baby, I had a modicum of peace of mind. Little did I know by about 1500 on Friday I'd be close to tears, with no jugs, no glasses (I ordered too late), no staff (sent off to the warehouse to find jugs/glasses), no customers and a very angry man looming over me. I was definitely having second thoughts about this new career.

However, once the cavalry arrived in the form of the boys with the long-lost glassware, Tom and Richie P from the office, and we started selling some booze, I was a much happier bunny. I was also knackered. By the time we finished at 0100 Sunday night/Monday morning, I'd pretty much worked three 20 hour days, and all of them fuelled only by Polish sausage and Breton cider:

In the end, whilst hardly setting the financial world alight, it was a brilliant if painful introduction to the world of events. Running them is totally euphoric, you're pretty much running on adrenalin (and sausage) for the entire time, so you're either massively depressed and emotional (Friday) or amazingly high and emotional (Saturday-Sunday), before hitting a big crash on Monday.

Thanks to everybody who came down to see us: Lucyfer, Tangela, Harry, Sash & Matt, Layla, Edders, Sophie and Emma, Uncle Gerald - you all made my weekend a much happier place - and most of all to Ana who didn't see me all weekend, until Sunday when she, Milo, Kay and Mike came out for fizzy drinks.

If you're interested, and seeing as I didn't have time to take any piccies, here's the official work view of the weekend.

I'm not sure I'm looking forward to the next one.

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