Jurassic 5

At 13 years old I garnered a soft spot for a certain hip-hop collective named Jurassic 5, mainly because a boy I had a school-girl crush on introduced me to them and from the first aural experience of What’s Golden and Quality Control I was hooked. That’s why the moment I saw a comeback tour was underway I jumped to buy tickets instantly from the desk of my dorm in Massachusetts. I’ve never known 3 months of my life to fly as quickly as the next did. The 16th of July hovered to the present as quickly at lightning speed. After attending my brother's graduation (which I'll post about later) I ran, sweat cascading down my made-up face, boarded a train to Leeds for the gig, then headed to my friend Ralf's house to herd the troops in Headingley. 

I have to say it's always good after a stressful voyage to be met by a double shot of Sambuca. 

We drank, dressed, dabbled, and hopped in taxis to the o2 arena in Leeds city centre. 

Ralf's housemate borrowed my sunglasses to emulate the persona of a ticket touter. Needless to say, the bigshots on the block were not enthralled by this Stoke lad encroaching their possible customers, even if he was devoid of any tickets, just finding it hilarious to shout "tickets buy or sell" to the winding queue. 

Inside the arena, and the sweltering heat was immediately apparently. I was extremely happy that I'd worn easy breezy dungarees, ready to unbuckle if the warmth became too much. Which it soon did. 

After paying an extortionate amount for vodka and lemonades, we headed forward to stake a claim at the front. 

One of our friends partied slightly too hard and spent most of the set being held up by the boys. 

J5 blew my mind. Drunk and ecstatic, I sang along to every word, surrounded by some lovely people. It was the best night in ages.

After the gig we wandered back to Ralf's. Vodka flowed, cigarette ash simmered on the side surfaces, and Jack peddled on the exercise bike wearing five pairs of sunglasses. At 5am a few of us made a meal of spaghetti, chorizo and cheese that was fit for Kings and for curing hangovers. Although that was somewhat dispelled by subsequent wine and cider drinking before bed. As light spilled through the curtains into the room, male synchornised snores echoed through the household, and bodies lay sprinkled in beds, on sofas and on floors. 

The next day I was heading elsewhere in Headingley to stay with other friends until Friday. However, after they informed of their adventurous plans to head to town, I figured I'd stay and revel in my dismal state until later on in the day when I'd managed to have a bite to eat, and potentially a nap. The boys of the house and I decided to lift our spirits somewhat by watching 'Sharknado'. Yup, a film about, wait for it... sharks in a tornado. A hilarious effort with a hammy cast, appalling script, and even worse special effects. Yet, somehow it was so bad, it was great. It managed to make us laugh anyway. After the film, we moved to outside, onto their curb, basking in the sun, eating ice lollies, and starting on the beers. Hair of the dog and all that. As the evening fell upon us, I left the curb and the boys and heading forth for a barbecque and reunions at Steph's house.