On Gatecrashing


One of the best parties I ever went to was one I hadn’t been invited to.  When I’m sober, I’m pretty excitable anyway, but throw alcohol into the mix and suddenly everything is an adventure and everything is awesome.

About a year or two ago, I went out for drinks with an old friend from back home, let’s call him R.

R was one of those friends I only ever really saw in the pub. My one attempt at doing something different with him, walking along the South Bank one summer’s night had still ended up with him pouting until I gave in and we went to a pub.

This particular night though, R and I had been on something of a bar crawl through Shoreditch. He was still somewhat new to the area and was still in that Shoreditch honeymoon phase – wanting to go out all the time, excited about all the new bars and restaurants and me, well I love Shoreditch, so I happily went along for the ride.

We’d managed to make our way through about five or six bars and about as many drinks. We weren’t very faithful to any one particular place. Generally, we’d start out in Ziggy’s on Hoxton Square, but we were definitely bar sluts, and as soon as we’d finished a drink in one place, R would be already thinking about the next place to go.

helloGenerally, we’d reach a certain point where we knew it was probably time to call it a night. I’d generally get incredibly giggly and delighted and start spouting nonsense, and he’d start rolling his eyes an awful lot, like a disapproving old man.

This night, R was walking me home, and as we were walking down a side street, we passed by an apartment block. You know those ones that from the outside look horribly concrete and industrial, but you just know are probably incredibly cool and modern inside?

This one had music pumping out onto the street, and R commented “Sounds like a pretty big party”. In some moment of madness, I announced “I’m going to the party”, made a beeline for the door, buzzed the bell and was halfway up the stairs before R had a chance to protest.

Once inside the building, we figured we may as well follow through with it. We ended up just following the noise until it led us to a big metal door which slid open to reveal a gorgeous, spacious apartment with people everywhere, a DJ in one corner and a table of drinks in another.

R set himself up as the barman and started mixing drinks for everyone, I left him to it and went off wandering, talking to all and sundry.

The apartment was so lovely and the people were a totally eclectic mix of people, and a lot of fun to talk to.

The next morning, R and I met for brunch to rehash the night’s events. I’m pretty sure it was one of the highlights of his life in London, because after that, I’d often hear him telling people “And then she just ran up the stairs!”

To be fair, it was a pretty excellent night.

And to whoever’s party we crashed – thanks for a really great party!


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