Wonkyville meets Neverland

My partner in crime <3

“There’s no earthly way of knowing which direction you are going, there’s no knowing where they’re rowing… or which way the river’s flowing” but my guess is that you’re heading west…

The wise words of Mr. Willy Wonka ring in my ears as I sit in my aeroplane seat, contemplating, re-living and releasing the locomotion of the last 2 weeks. All the cabin windows are closed, the lights are off and for all I know, we may be flying west? But while the concept of zooming over huge masses of ocean and land in a giant metal bird in the sky is still utterly baffling, nothing can quite beat how perplexed I felt the moment that I stood around the kitchen table in that grand stately home 2 weeks ago...

Although I shall try, there’s no point in writing this blog in chronological order as the concept of time becomes merely a word to encompass the entirety of our experience (that I so wish could last forever). The experience I refer to is the event we had all been waiting for … the one you spend half the year anticipating and the other half recovering from/ in a state of denial that it’s all over. I’ll take you through a bit of the magic to tickle your tentacles and ignite your imaginations. Feeling perplexed already? So was I, I’ll let you decide which moment may describe why…

Awards night...

We had returned to Neverland… Day 1 was surprisingly civilised as girls flowed around in floor length gowns while boys drifted, suited and booted with endless glasses of bubbly in hand. We sat gracefully in our assigned seats around white tables in the expertly converted games room for ‘The Captains Awards Night’. But it didn’t take long for the clock to strike 12 and the transformation from civilised society to wreck-head ravers to begin. Conversations sped up and nonsense filled the air and we raised our glasses to the long awaited annual affair.

Disjointed conversations, after party bliss, morning yoga and chocolate bits. 30+ hours of no sleep and it was suddenly dark again… “So much time and so little to do. Wait a minute. Strike that. Reverse it. Thank you.”

The activity of the 2^nd evening? Disco dodgeball. I stood at the corner of the table in the kitchen dressed as an oompa lumpa, having a seemingly normal conversation with a crew of life-size, animated childhood heroes. It was like an acid trip had come to life. A minion stood next to me, chatting politics to a member of the Jamaican bobsled team, while a Dalmatian mixed a cocktail for a member of the SWAT team who was sensually brandishing his leather whip… everyone’s pupils were wide in anticipation for the games to begin.

And indeed they did. I looked over the heads of a bizarre array of characters, searching for my team of orange oompa lumpa’s. I soon spotted the mass of green curls and orange faces bobbing along outside, struggling to walk straight through the cold, hurricane-like wind in-between the house and the games room.

Everyone went quiet as the MC announced into the microphone ‘IT’S TIME TO PLAYYY DODGEBALLL!!’ The rules were explained and the first team ran onto the court, grooving to their entrance song of choice against the opposition; the winner of the dance off, determined which team started first.

TEAM

We bobbed along to what should’ve been (http://youtu.be/DoFeHA587GI) and needless to say the lack of sleep and my flickering eyes hindered my ability to dance, let alone last in the game for longer than 30 seconds. So I took my rightful place on the side-lines to watch the other teams battle it out. When my body could bob no longer I made the sensible decision to take myself to bed just as the heat in the Chapel was rising and Saturday Night fever was set to begin (on a lit up disco dance-floor, divided by lines and devoured by glitter fro’s that were shaking to some funky disco beats https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZBR2G-iI3-I).

A kitchen of characters

I awoke on that sunny Sunday morning having sadly missed Saturday night’s groove, surrounded by sleeping disco-queens in an unknown bedroom. I looked into one of the million mirrors that were scattered around the house, wiping away flakes of baby powder to assess my situation… it looked like I’d spent too long in a tanning booth as I peered at the residue of orange face paint… what a bedraggled oompa lumpa I had become. I chuckled, washed my face, shook into my body glove and with a cup of coffee in hand, stepped outside. With the help of some sexy morning tunes (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DofQMszmOOM) all the tiredness and weird residue of the fun guys chocolate nibbles from the previous day, just seemed to melt away.

Dirty Disney 

The day consisted of re-grounding and resetting, grinding my teeth against some actual nutrition before the lid of Pandora’s box opened and the toys again sprung to life. My Mrs. Willy Wonky doppelgänger appeared and I got into character, handing out a spread of golden tickets and special treats. That evening as I sat at the kitchen table I was joined by a new array of mixed company; it was like that game ‘who would you have at your dinner table if you could choose anyone?’ Next to me, sat a giant whoopee cushion (that #lookedlikePaolo), a Mario cart mushroom and micky mouse… with a baby doll lying face down on the table.

I listened in on talk of mysterious golden tickets that were being found in wonka bars, hmm… “Little surprises around every corner… but nothing dangerous” I hoped…

And as the lights became blurry and words got more slurry, I hopped on the boat and began rowing, with no idea what direction I was going… through a secret passage and out we emerged, into a land of cocoa powder, Malibu and milk!

My long lost husband Mr. Willy Wonka was setting the scene, telling his childhood tale, accompanied by a giant oompa lumpa who kept the vibes heading in one direction… west, only west. The childish tone soon took a turn as the musical conductors moved the kit into the grandest of dining rooms and things transformed from perfectly playful, to wonderfully wild: Out came glitter nips and lucky dips into bags of magic as we moved and grooved (while some sensibly snoozed) before the clock struck and the countdown to the end was to begin…

Post-party vision

We all ran and rushed,

Looking bedraggled and flushed,

Hoovering glitter in a bleary haze,

We tried our best to clean before the wedding day,

That was occurring in that house in which we were to leave no trace,

If only I could’ve mustered a smile on my face…

Likened to a bunch of animals by the caretaker was not a surprise,

For I could still see the wildness in all those sleep deprived eyes…

And as though the party could never end,

We hopped in cars with a few of our friends,

For a ‘civilised’ lunch at a local pub,

A nap in the pub...

We were well in need for some well-cooked grub.

While some continued to pop and bump,

Others had hit a little slump,

So we lay on the carpet beside the lunch table,

(This all seems surreal but I assure you, it’s no fable.)

After a little nap we were back on form!

Determined not to let the smiles turn to scorn.

So a ‘spa’ became the next destination,

Was it to live up to our expectations?

We all drove along, expecting facials and a much needed rest,

Only to arrive at the ‘hotel’ that I’d describe as average at best.

But we soldiered on, despite our energy wearing thin,

And the temperature of the pool feeling nothing but grim…

Some tunes perked us up, as did R’s blue wig and red gown,

That she had not taken off, for she refused to come down :) 

We sat together on Devon beach to watch the sky melt away,

Sensing our slow return from Neverland with the dying day…

Devon Beach (Creds to A. Gold)

It’s now been 2 weeks and in-between I turned 22,

LOST festival, Bristol

Getting LOST in a maze with another beautiful crew.

Topless and free, our spirits ran wild,

And I returned to that liberated, carefree inner-child.

I cannot express my awe, gratitude and love for you Captain and team,

As you have risen above every expectation and dream.

That goes for each and every wonderful person that I’ve met

And what excites me the most is it’s not over yet!

I apologise for the wonky direction that this piece has taken,

Santa Teresa Bernini is a statue in Rome that
they believe was continuously sent orgasms
by god. She hence comes to represents pure ecstasy
and bliss (and although this message slightly takes the piss
I felt it was an appropriate one that could not go amiss ;) )

It started as a blog but I was mistaken,

For poetry has been my means of expression,

To release and re-live the years best session.

I’d like to end with a note of academic value,

For even though she is only a statue,

What she represents is something I’ve been feeling for the last 2 weeks,

As though my heart has skipped a million beats:

Santa Teresa Bernini (on the left) is a statue in Italy,

The description underneath explains it all blissfully...

As a group of west-heads, look how far we have we come?

Captain I hope the grief you’ve ensued has not spoiled all your fun,

For you are a maker and creator of joy,

I’ve never known what it’s like to truly live like a toy!

Thanks again, I can’t wait until next time,

And that shall be the end of this (way too lengthy) rhyme. <3

Where the magic happens...
(Creds to Bateman)