partaaay

So, the Final Quest party. I have never been to a party when I felt so rough beforehand, but I knew that it was going to be worth it: 160 Questers exchanging stories about their travels, and a chance to celebrate finally finishing. Excellent. And it was. They had rigged up a projector showing everyone’s pictures on the wall, which meant that our bums were up there a total of three times, which was a bit embarrassing, but George and Pete’s team had got totally nekkid far beyond the call of duty, so I don’t think people really noticed our bare asses.

There were so many people there, lots of whom I didn’t know, but lots who I did, so it was a big night of drinking and giggling. We were very organised and actually brought our own wine glasses; we knew the chances of finding any when we got there were pretty slim, but unfortunately FMN1 had a lapse of attention around 2am and just plain dropped hers in the middle of a conversation with someone, which was quite funny. I also got into a long conversation with her ex, and told him he was the most insensitive person I had ever met. He actually took it rather well, but we have always got on very well, mainly because we don’t really take each other very seriously. We had a long conversation about why he had dumped her, and actually, it was very good, because it gave us all a chance to air our opinions, which, actually, were quite similar. Odd.

We all ended up very very drunk, mainly because everyone was absolutely exhausted but quite exhilarated by our efforts. The boys who won were some of my favourite guys at uni, so I was very well pleased for them. It was also really nice because they hadn’t put in loads of planning and military strategies to what they were doing – they just had fun and happened to wrack up the most points. It was pretty cool. They gave me their caps, so everyone thought I was on the winning team which was pretty nifty too.

I decided to go home at around 3.30, although the party was still quite packed. I just had got to the drunk stage of having had enough, and I had talked to all the people I had wanted to talk to. I walked home, and the sun was just about to rise, which is my favourite time of day; it was so beautiful. In my drunken state I decided to sleep on the roof, in order to see the sunrise. Of course I didn’t see any of it because as soon as my head hit the pillow I fell fast asleep. I woke a few hours later stiff from lying on the concrete and wondering why the hell I was on the roof. Back to bed I went.