May Week Special So here we are, arrived at the end of Easter Term, 2006, and at the end of May Week. This being my first, I have plenty of enthusiasm to give all, well, most, of the details, despite being infused with fatigue from a Very Busy Week Indeed. It's taken a while to write, hasn't been proof-read, so read it and weep.

We may as well proceed chronologically, so let's start with somewhere near the beginning of the week, I forget when exactly, walking through Selwyn gardens. Glorious weather, exquisite gardens; music and the gentle perfume of flowers in the air. I pass by a group of prospective students being given a tour, smile and nod, then notice the garden party in progress, the source of the music. A string quartet plays while laughing students and fellows indulge in strawberries and champagne; it's not even 11 o'clock. To the other side I spy a game of croquet in progresson the lawn. What in introduction to Selwyn for students if ever there was one.

I believe the next stage was Michael's arrival, and a trip to a local restaurant with lovely Ling. Alas, the delicious and superb Sala Thong was full to bursting, and not having booked a table, we didn't have a chance. Instead we tried the Rice Boat next door. If you're planning a trip to Cambridge, avoid this place as we were truly shocked, after waiting two hours for our food (which wasn't even all that), to be berated by the manager's wife for complaining!

The next morning brought about the beginning proper of the festivities in the shape of attending the Peterhouse Adonians' (gay thing, highly cliquey, highly Cantabrigian) Champagne Breakfast. By midday I had quaffed about a bottle and a half of champagne (actually Freixinet Cordon Negro, which I'm quite partial to), and munched down a four course breakfast: such a thing I was so naïve of its existence! Starting out with melon balls in port we moved quickly into second stage and onto kedgeree, which I hadn't tried before. I was pleasantly surprised, and think I shall look out for it again. Next was the stalwart of all breakfast routines, the Full English. This one had it all, and more in the shape of kidneys and lamb chops. Lastly, to fill any gaps that could not even conceivably exist by this point, croissants, toast, jam and coffee were wheeled out, and pecked at. I must say that I continued my "second helpings" approach here too, and managed several hot, fresh croissants before admitting defeat and staggering back to the garden with a glass of cava in hand, stomach bulging more than it has in recent times.

The food was not the most shocking thing to comment on either. Initially I was quite nervous of the event (making polite small talk with strangers is not one of my favourite past-times it must be said), but soon I was in my element people-watching and mental note taking. Here I was presented with a platter richer than the breakfast I'd just consumed, rich with men of simply unimaginable characters. With just a handful of undergrads, a smattering of well-rehearsed Pervy Old Men and the remainder some very nice people indeed, the breakfast was well-populated. I'll talk only of one for now, let us call him K, and all you need to picture is the large bloom in the lapel of a smoking jacket, and slimline cigarette in ebony holder. Daaahhhling, that is SUUUUUpreme!

Oh, and how could I forget. Whilst all this standing drinking and networking was taking place, I was quite shocked, and mildly excited, by the "live entertainment" unintentionally laid on for us by the Peterhouse May Ball committee, who had the workmen in erecting marquees for later that week (more to come on that later). Being a rather warm and sunny day, these fine specimens of the male population revealed their bronzed and rather appropriately Adonis-like torsoes for the delectation of the Old Pervy Gays. I, myself, of course tutted such worship of the flesh. (Those who know me better will realise that that was only the case for appearance's sake, as we say with tongue in cheek.)

Onwards we march, and keeping the theme of garden parties, we have the CUSU LBGT Annual Garden Party in the afternoon after returning from the Adonians' thing, hosted in the pretty and local surroundings of Selwyn Chapel gardens, thanks to a little organisational effort on my part with College authorities. The CUSU people were providing all the food and booze for free, so this was one to look forward to.

Once things had got going and all were enjoying themselves (the lesbians played ball games with Pimms whilst the gays looked on nonchalantly with Smirnoff Ice in hand), I noticed that some of the guests looked very familiar, very recently familiar. The Adonians had gate-crashed! This could be interesting, I thought, a wry smile appearing. Is that K over there? Why, yes it is! Now the bloom in lapel had been further adorned with what looked like the entire wysteria bush that covers Selwyn's buildings. I got chatting to some of them again, and discovered in an eery small-world moment that a young chap named Nat had worked for several years in the dodgy school at the end of my road at home! How strange.

I hadn't told anyone of this beforehand, but I took a slight guilty pleasure in watching events unfold (more unexpectedly than I had hoped) as it was realised by the garden party I was attending was being held simultaneously with the Conservatives' garden party in the pond garden next to the chapel. The Dean had told me this with slight mirth when I booked the garden, but it just goes to show that we can all get along together, (in the extreme) right-wing fascists and lefty gayers in sweet, sweet harmony. I digress. What happened was the gate-crashing highly-boozed Adonian contingent got wind of the Tories being next door, and gate-crashed their party too—much to the outrage of the Tories, who claimed us as bigots against the Conservative Cause! I was always one to giggle, and this was just the tonic for post-exam stress relief.

As a final twist to events, (and I'll not go into my slight grievance with the lack of willing of some CUSU LBGT exec people to actually help, nay actually make an effort to hinder the clear-up of the party I was officially responsible for should it go tits up) I witnessed one of the worst incidents of English-foreign interaction I've seen in a while. Two jugs went astray, taken to the wrong kitchen by mistake. Attempting to retrieve them, I went with the Catering Manageress to speak to the washing-up staff, who don't speak English much at all. What I witnessed was a slightly-frazzled English woman increasingly raising her voice and slowing her speech (clearly enhancing the language communication here) whilst gesticulating in strange circular motions about the location of the jugs. The poor washer-upper looked on blankly muttering "I no understand" with Catering Woman becoming more and more irate. Good grief, woman, leave her alone! The jugs are right there, and all is ok.

Following on from this was a good session punting on the Cam, which Michael seemed a natural at. He must like his watersports... On the way there others seemed to be getting into the nautical life, particularly one student, in shirt and tie, sitting in a deflating pirate ship dinghy gently drifting down the river. How long the vessel remained afloat I don't know, but I'm not sure the punters appreciated navigated about this obstacle.

That evening brought about a trip to Clowns' Café, which I'd heard of, but not patronised before. And what I was missing out on! Oh, woe discovering the joys of Clowns' at the end of the year. Do drop in if you get the chance, but beware the Evil Clown. You see, the café is full of children's drawings of clowns, covering wall and ceiling. One in particular caught our attention. I cannot begin to describe it in words: check out the picture down below.

The next day was relatively quiet, until the evening, when live music action brought to a group of Selwynites Toots and the Maytals at The Junction. What a gig it was! Thoroughly enjoyed hearing the name-giver of reggae strutting his stuff and pouring out some of the finest music I've heard in a while. Good stuff.

Continuing with the live music, I booked tickets for the next evening to go to an album launch party at Soul Tree for Gilles Peterson's new venture. Going in at 10pm, I expected things to be already happening, but it was a little quiet. Soon, though, proceedings were brought to life with the beats of Manimal, a Brazilian band pounding out a funked-up blend of rock, reggae and Latin. I've never danced so much... it brought back memories of the wonderful (and I can't sing its praises enough) Jelly Jazz sessions in Plymouth. Sadly, the night didn't pull on for as long as scheduled after Manimal had finished, as the night was a little on the sparse side in terms of attendance. A real shame; I'll rejoice when more Latin/jazz/soul reaches the dancefloors of the clubs of this land.

After recovering the next morning, the Master of Selwyn was kind enough to invite students into his garden for a party. Tables laden and sagging with fine sandwiches, refreshing tea, homely sponge cakes, juicy strawberries and deliciously artery-clogging cream scones. Caroline and I managed to mantain a distance of less than a metre away from the trestles at all times; I for one worked my way through each of the offerings, often passing back for more. It was at this point I pondered the nature of heaven, should such a place exist. Is the afterlife for the good among us an eternal garden party, with soft sunshine, gentle breezes and a never-ending supply of cream teas? I wonder.

Fast forward a couple of hours and we arrive at the pinnacle of this week, the Peterhouse May Ball. Oh my, where do I begin? Arriving with Mareike and Caz on my arms, I was pimping it up in my white tie evening suit, the three of us bearing gladioli. The offerings for consumption were phenomenal, I will list my intake that evening:

· glass of Pimms and lemonade · piece of gingerbread from a gingerbread house that had been constructed · chicken fajita · glass of champagne · much sushi · a Kir Royale · equivalent with strawberry · kangaroo burger (damn not returning for ostrich!) · a Cosmopolitan · a passionfruit daiquiry · a selection of tapas · more champagne · hog roast! · Lynchburg Lemonade (bourbon with lemons and stuff) · falafel · bacon rolls · fresh pastries · more champagne

As you can see, I had indulged in a grotesque fashion. How I piled all that in I really don't know. And how I survived a merry-go-round, ferris wheel and much, much dancing with all that on board, I'll not know either.

The musical offerings were excellent too, highlights being Vincent Vincent and his Villains, who I have seen before and enjoyed, and The Video Club, a excitable electro outfit with the energy of an ADHD child injected with adrenalin. Watch them here [wmv, 1.6MB].

We did (well, apart from Mareike who had Boyfriend Obligations) make it to survivors' photo: 10pm to 6.30am of pure party, and still looking faintly respectable. Even the gladiolus in my lapel suffered only a minor droop. Photos of all this and more can be seen on Facebook (no login required).

The next morning... what am I saying, it was the next morning already! Later that day, after a nap of a couple of hours, what more could be done than to read Love It! and eat chocolate biscuits smuggled into a café? Recovery was quick: packing had to be done.

Loading up the crates took a full day and a morning, only to be told by college that there "might not be space": owing the "health and safety rules" they can no longer store students' possessions in all the basements they used to. Pah! So one basement is less of a death-risk to the students above than another? How did they work that one out? And, to make matters worse, college is using the student-allocated storage for foot-organs and old furniture! The cheek.

That morning I said goodbye to friends, the German, a relationship (sad face) and to my beloved brown-and-cream palais de l'haute-arte. Goodbye to the daddy-long-legs that's just died in the glass of water on my desk.

Posted: 26-06-06 18:56 :: Permalink: http://ben.corale.co.uk/archive/v1/231.html

Comments Use the form at the bottom to post your comments. Here is the feedback:

Nicky Biscuit (Video Club) writes Glad you liked us.... do you have a video of us?

Love

Nicky x Commented: 29-06-06 13:31

Nicky (Again) writes Ah... the vid works now... ace's fella!

Nicky x Commented: 29-06-06 19:11