Thanks to Being Out Late, I slept in rather better, despite the movement upstairs (apparently the landlord is going to soundproof the flat somewhat), but, not having adjusted my body-clock yet, I was a bit zoned out during the day. I headed out to take another look around the stalls, and this time actually managed to part with some money at the Alley Cat stall, where I picked up a pair of "cyber vambraces", a new wallet, and a small bag for clubbing (which, rather usefully, can sit on my belt). We had pasta in the flat for dinner as an attempt to get out a bit earlier, which seemed to work; K was very finely dressed in pinstripe skirt, corset, tie and bowler, and I Went Cyber again, with Large Hair (well, falls), of which there are almost certainly photos somewhere, as (rather reassuringly) I got photographed a lot this night too (so it wasn't just the mask...). Despite finding nothing special in any of the bands, and getting distinctly hacked off with tourists and (supposedly professional) camera crews, I lasted the night through (and stayed sober again... weird), heading home at about 0130 - after a very fine snog ;)
Part of the reason I took very few photos was that the whole night had a distinct feel of a media circus. Many people were there either to see the migration event or be seen in costumes which, while very fine, couldn't see Goth through the Hubble. Too much ego, not enough community (and the aforementioned drunk tossers) may have explained why a lot of people attended other events this night instead. But, to repeat, I still greatly enjoyed myself - spent a fair bit of time with the other furries too, as I wore the catmask on Friday and the ears (providing a very useful way of hiding the way the falls were attached) on Saturday.
Sun 30 - 80s
Woke up at 9-ish-possibly, heard breakfast, turned over and slept another couple of hours, still making it out in the morning thanks to the hour change and a very fine (if compact) shower in the flat. I was more awake for most of the day, although again I felt dopey around dinnertime, as my body clock was wondering WTF was going on and appeared to have split the day in half. Dinner was pizza (IIRC), cooked in an inventive "damint, no trays" fashion.
Despite feeling dopey, I decided (for the first time since I've been going to Whitby) to head to teh 80s night, but was too lazy to change. ERROR! Gods it was hot in there - and I was still wearing leather jeans. And, for reasons that probably made sense at the time, I was dancing lots (me, dance? never!) and running on sugar (in the form of Smirnoff Ice). I was *coated* in sweat, and in the end just gave up, folded my shirt into my bag, and danced topless. Fantastic night, containing Thundercats, plus goths dancing to very cheesy music (fine work, Mr Sexbat) including (among other things) the Locomotion, the Skipping Song, and Nelly the Elephant. (http://www.ch3.org.uk/filestore/display/4088093 onwards).
Was still dancing, sober, and grinning like (as K says) a loon by the end of the event at midnight. Dunno how.
Woke up at not-really-very-late next morning to fantastic weather again and went for my obligatory wander-down-the-beach and onto the pier (http://www.ch3.org.uk/filestore/display/4394066 onwards). Wandered in the surf (the wonders of quality walking boots) and generally chilled out - discovered my shoulders were completely un-tangled.
Went back to the flat and found K and S awake-ish, so we headed out for a very fine lunch (with PIE!) at the Shepherd's purse and a wander around the old town - I picked up an interesting-looking novel in the Bookshop With The Afearing Stairs, by an author whose name rang a distinct bell, and turned out to be autopope. He's obviously been drinking, possibly quite heavily, with Ken MacLeod and Iain M Banks. More references and in-jokes than you can shake a stick at, but still a very fine book, if not quite the universe-shattering iconoclasm that the reviews claimed. Spent much of the afternoon reading this and listening to music while K and S hit the Angel (I couldn't take any more smoke at that point, and felt I was due some real relaxation time).
Then, of course, we went to the Magpie, where we found no queue (unusual) and astoundingly good food (far more usual) in huge portions. And S still polished off his portion, tried to nick the rest of mine, and then went for desert... He and K then went to the beach party while I (with a slight case of indigestion) went back to chilling out in the flat.
Tue 1 -
After a good night's sleep we all decided to make an attempt on the abbey, Bat in hand. This was, however, multiply foiled by: 1) the 99 steps being closed for repairs (and the alternative path being suitable only for cobbled donkeys), and the route from the car park (having driven the long way round) being closed off, diverted, unsigned, etc, etc. And, most critically, by it being November, at which point the abbey is, in fact, closed on Tuesdays - albeit with no "closed" signs, and plenty of "this way" signs making no sense. However, I still got some decent pics over the wall, and it was a *fantastic* day, so we enjoyed the weather and headed up to the Hole of Horcum to enjoy the view and take further pics. Very cold up there however, so we were very happy to return home, warm up while watching Wallace and Gromit (who I DO NOT resemble) and head out for dinner at the Thai place just around the corner (Sangiam?).
And gods, that food was FANTASTIC. Incredible plate of starters, followed by a glorious stir-fry, all (as ever) in Yorkshire-sized portions. Yum! No, of course I couldn't finish it...
Back to the flat to curl up (all three of us) on the sofa) and watch the last W&G short, and the DVD extras.
Wed 2 -
Drive home. Relaxed packing, fair drive home (no RTAs!), but arriving to a very gray London!