The day I have been eagerly anticipating for weeks has finally arrived...
Mr Scruff at Nouveau Casino.
Now I am not even excited.
No, I am still buzzing and fuzzing and fizzing inside, but I have calmed down, a lot.
It's a good thing, I think I was too excited a few weeks ago, when there were no other raves on the horizon and the city felt like a decrepit old man, shuffling in front of me down a narrow Parisian street, blocking my view and slowing me down until I had to shove him out of the way, screaming:
'HURRY UP YOU SLOW BASTARD! MOVE OUT OF MY WAY! I HAVE SO MANY PLACES TO BE AND SO MANY PEOPLE TO SEE AND YOU ARE PISSING ME OFF!'
Then after I posted on here about being bored to tears (literally), I had a couple of really good weekends to take the edge off my rave cravings and I feel a lot more relaxed.
Paris has got its mojo back, the Good Times are coming thick and fast. No need to get hysterical.
My entire future happiness is no longer riding on one night. If tonight turns out to be a disaster (I get mugged, I get stabbed on the way home, I throw up on the dance floor, I have a seizure, I get arrested etc) then it's ok guys, don't panic, I know there will be other nights.
But it won't be a disaster, it's going to be excellent. (Touch wood, please don't let me have jinxed myself.)
Now I am off to get ready and drink gin. I was going to make rose and lychee martinis, all proper with the posh syrups and expensive gin like Olivia makes... But somehow, I just ended up buying shitty gin and a carton of cheapskate apple juice.