The Newquay Activity Centre staff raided the season's tip jar and prepped themselves for some winter cold last Thursday with an awesome night out spread across the town's finest establishments. Starting after a fun little wedge session with a beach BBQ at the Kahuna Restaurant the rabble ambled their way to Central where much merriment went down, including videographer Sam Buckle being taken down to the ground by a random woman, reports are unconfirmed she believed she saw Jesus Christ and wanted to nuzzle his red beard. While Bookings Coordinator Rachel 'Whereabouts in Nottingham is Notting Hill?' Ponsford was lofted up for a bit of impromptu crowd surfing, Sedders began his quest to find, tickle and spank the Holy Grail of Inappropriateness, and fortunately for him found it many times over, much to everyone else's amusement, guilty apologies and self-loathing. Leaving the smouldering ruins of Central behind, the miscreants descended upon Belushis, but not before a redirect through a car park to down bottle shots on top of a bin lid. Why? Where? When? Who knows. It was a game, won, and lost, by people who have no recollection of what happened. Belushis saw the carnage descend to a hazy mid-apocalyptic meltdown, the highlight of which saw Aidan accidently become embroiled in a rutting contest with the bar, a big bruise on his bony little head the following morning showing he gave it his best but that the bar reigned triumphant. He later became detached from the group and reports on his whereabouts from then til opening shop in the morning are thin on the ground. It's entirely possible we will never know. He was brought a bacon sandwich by Rachel the following morning for his efforts, that much is confirmed. I think end-of-night rumours of a small Guatamalan boy running away with a pocket stuffed full of fifties are neither fair nor warranted. After Belushis it was Red Square's turn to welcome the dribbling crew of party animals, who by that stage were a tad worse for wear. It was about this point in the evening where memories, dreams and lustful adventures all melted into one giant throbbing headache as the morning light filtered over the tops of Newquay's rooflines, and some of the remaining professional outfit had work, teaching courses and coaching to look forward to. It was a Thursday night remember, schoolboy error. A special note should be written for the season's upstanding and respectful photographer Aaron Parsons, who, after somehow coming through Red Square able to stand and slur coherently enough to get to the Headland Hotel -circa 4am- asked reception how much a room would be (£109) before sniffing at the disgusting prospect and instead choosing a solo nightswim at Fistral ... before trudging home, presumably muttering things about the cold and having 'Newquay friends'. The attached photos are from the first part of the night, before things got outrageous. Anyway, a great night all in - cheers to everyone who came, conquered and collapsed.
- September 19, 2011