Club 414, Brixton

My dear friend TC has been in the UK for the last three months. It has been really great having him around but unfortunately all good things must come to an end and he will be returning back to whence he came. TC loves to party and always comes home with great tales and left-over drugs (which he diligently saves for me). We had been angling for a few weeks to go out clubbing for the night and our last attempt was a few weeks ago, where we stayed local and had a great evening. As this was our last opportunity this visit, we opted to go to TC’s favourite club, the 414, Brixton. Honey was slightly concerned, ‘What happens if you don’t know what you’re doing and you forget who you are?’, which is not as unlikely as it sounds. I reassured him that I wouldn’t get THAT out of it and that I would surely find my way home, plus I was going to be with TC (erm, yeah, and!?). We popped in to a pub, got some water to share and sat at a table and blatantly took our drugs – we then went into the club and waited until it got warmed up and we had a really great night, dancing and smoking and talking bollocks with assorted weirdos until the morning, when the sun came up and I actually needed my sunglasses.


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