A time for the uniform of the daily grind to be shed and for everybody’s freakiness to come out!
I step onto Bow Road, the moonlight trickling down the red glow of the tube sign.
Skull makeup was a huge hit this year, and I pass yet another crowd of students in full skeleton onesies.

I turn left, peering up at the 60s high rise block of flats thinking Citymapper must have got it wrong for a second time that week. A group of four people look at me with a curious eye as I march up and down the street with a bare chest and fur coat, Versace Medusa slapping rhythmically against my skin.

I get tired of waiting and call the host, Molly, who appeared from the side of a Victorian cottage in the middle of E3 dressed in a clown outfit and with a huge smile on her face.
Finally! Hugs and kisses and greetings ensue and we step into the gravel path and walk through the battered wooden gate.
My eyes adjust to the darkness and I begin to notice a trail of tea lights across the path – I am transported to the North Wales countryside of my youth, Glastonbury, the Scottish highlands of a few months before. I’ve left the streets of Bow and am now in a Bohemian love shack in one of the Shires.

I’m home!!!
I meet some fellow guests, ghoulish to fabulous to foolish (a man with a vagina for a face and Cruella deVil were in attendance) and I am sipping a welcoming glass of mulled wine.

Molly and I have a chat about her choice of party food (severed fingers?) and I of course gush “I love what you did with the place!” and we descend into hippy giggles as she tells me it’s her little oddity in the East End – a place to simply be (what that is I’m yet to know.)

I marvel at my surroundings, a hidden lair of buried treasure: a bedroom laid out like a bohemian country cottage,


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