Last week I ran my socks off multiple times around Falmouth town. I made sure I ran along the beaches to get a glimpse of the France-sized swell that was about to hit us. The waves weren’t monstrously huge but they were pretty impressive for Falmouth considering the surf is decent only once a month! I felt like a child running away from the waves whenever they crept up the beach (I’m glad there was no one there to watch) and I was soaked to the skin in the rain – even my sports bra was sodden! By the time I reached home again I was so disgustingly hot and sweaty that steam was visible rising from my head. Gross. But I felt great!
Friday night saw myself and my cronies throwing shapes at the local rugby club at the Durty Disco event. Don’t be fooled by it’s quaint exterior – once you have stepped through the doors the sound of the music hits you and makes your clothes vibrate. We were lucky enough to have Sly One (Eton Messy/Rinse FM/Get Darker) play a live show and it was an awesome gig.
It’s taken me two days to recover and only now have i realised that I’m missing my keys. I found the number of the guy who runs the events at the Rugby Club and gave him a ring about half an hour ago. At first I wasn’t sure if I’d reached the right guy as I thought the phone line was being rubbish but then I realised that he was sloshed and was slurring his words. He explained to me that he was very tipsy, along side telling me that they find all sorts after events. Apparently after Friday there were thongs and bras found everywhere (I chose to laugh off his suggestion of trying them on) as well as passports and an assortment of keys and was told to ring back tomorrow when he was sober and to go and see the brass band which is practising there tonight. After asking me how my Friday night was and telling me to pick up my underwear tomorrow he bid me goodbye.