Oooooooooooooh boy, what a weekend that turned out to be ! There's a good chance that anyone reading this will already know this, but for the sake of accurate historical documentation, etc. – this weekend just gone was my farewell party. And by that, I do mean the entire weekend. My logic at the time was that if you have a party then there's a good chance that not everyone will be able to make it… so by extending the party, you open up more options. It also has negative effects, such as the amount of extra cleaning up one has to do, but on the whole it was a pretty good plan. And, it worked !

Friday night I'd told people to rock in any time from 7 onwards. No sign of anyone by about 8.30, and this is nothing unusual… Spiro & I had to quickly duck back to Ma & Pa's to get my stereo, and as we pulled out of the driveway I said “I bet we get back and there's like 50 people or something”. As it turned out, there were only about 30, but it was still a good guess.

The most difficult part I found was getting around to catch up with everyone, although I gave it my best shot. There was a fair bit of ground to cover, because people were located all the way from the lounge room (which ended up looking a bit like a pistachio farm) to the magnificent erection in the backyard which we'd dubbed “The Voodoo Lounge”.

There was quite a good crowd Friday night, and my slightly weakened condition prevents me from estimating numbers… but you could definitely call it “a party”.

I think I crawled in to bed at about 4am maybe ? I know I'd just farewelled Mark, Annie and Sarah in a taxi, and spent a little while trying to placate the cat, who was a bit spooked by the music and the crowd (and the flashing pink light probably didn't help) and had decided to spend most of his time next door hassling the dogs.

It's pretty hard to pick out what to say about the night, because I don't want to sound like I've forgotten anyone but after an entire weekend one's memory takes a fair battering. Dammit, I should have posted to the site on Saturday rather than waiting til now…

I guess I can't go without mentioning Bushy's weapon of mass destruction – the Autoboozer. Also known as a beer bong, this thing was the undoing of me that night I fear, as well as being poor Dougie's nemesis. What are the chances of getting a beer spiked with hot sauce poured into the sculling tube ? Poor bloke – he said he got 8 hours' sleep in 15 minute increments, and half a packet of Quick-Eze…

That'll probably do for the moment – I'll write a little bit more later on. And trust me, there's more.

Oh yes, the photos are in the photo gallery section now.