The underground room is full of people my parents would not approve of. Young men in make-up and bondage trousers. Young women in corsets and stilettos with eleborate hair and spiky jewellery. Leather and pvc.
Industrial noise fills the air; then loud German rock then Radiohead's Creep "I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo" gets everyone onto the dancefloor.
This is where I feel at home. I can dance by myself and no-one hassles me. I can hold my man's hand and kiss a girl and no-one looks askance at us.
It gets crowded in here but no-one ever makes trouble. If someone bumps into you on the dancefloor, you exchange smiles. If someone knocks over your drink they buy you another.
Leaving at 2.30am we hear the sounds of brawling in the regular bar next door.
Weird for Sunday Scribblings