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Postcards about summer and the cities.

I'd never thought of Nelly as a lyrical prophet but I have to admit that his exclamation 'It's getting hot in herre, so take off all your clothes' has never been more apt. For a change (touch wood)! the British weather has taken a turn for the best and for the past few weeks we've been averaging temperatures hotter than Rio De Janeiro, Lisbon and Athens which is lovely. Of course it was going to rain. We knew that. And rain it did. Today. In buckets. But it stayed hot and dried up and rained again and dried up again and it felt just like, well, Spain. Consequently, I haven't been able to resist wearing an assortment of A&F hot pants, home-customised Diesel cut-offs and everything of a length dubious enough to make you think I've confused my dressmaker with my gynaecologist. I love that about Summer - it's all about renewed confidence and the will to dare to be just a little bit different.

Work-wise, life has been a whirl of deck-twirling, skirt-swirling antics. Easter and the crowd at Wild Fruit (Paradox, Brighton) was as wild and fruity as ever. And whilst I'm all for presents, the grinning person who threw a crème egg across the decks to me should know that

a) Contrary to urban myth, eggs do not have wings (KFC chickens also have legs and crème eggs aren't creamy, they're sugary), so they need HUGE amounts of encouragement to fly and

b) (s)he's a dreadful shot: thanks to them, my copy of 'E-Samba' will never be the same (thank God Defected have licensed it, at least I'll get an upfront, pristine copy when the new mixes are finished).

Vespas in Madeira was wilder still: people danced on the podiums, on the bar and even on the ledge of the DJ booth whilst the strawberry vodka shots flowed like ambrosia. The only thing that spoiled it was the travelling: a Lisbon stop-over is never an exciting prospect (the duty free is rrrrubbish plus there's flap all else to do) but flying back from Funchal when the sky threatens a storm that would sink an ark is damn near impossible. Needless to say, all flights were cancelled until further notice. Now this is something that ordinarily wouldn't have bothered me too much but since I was trying to co-ordinate with the love of my life, as hour ran into hour it became vexatious to the spirit. And don't mention the marble floors - after three attempts at buying wine (and trying to keep it in one piece) and five (or was it six?) hours later, the flight departed.

In May, Hot and Dry at Metropolis was packed to the rafters and working the tops off, tits out attitude that makes Montreal so special. In a game of two halves and one costume change (for me), this was a party that took it out of me (and my dog-ball throwing left arm) to a point where my left shoulder had to be immediately packed in ice at the end of the gig. Thankfully, my suffering did not go unattended; Annik Charbonneau and Serge Duchesne took charge of my massage, whilst Claudia did her best Nurse Ratchett impression and supplied the prescription painkillers. Take it from me, two days later when the pain became unbearable, there was no place like masseuse with the mostest, Sylvie Duchesne's. Thank God for Sylvie and a very sarcastic 'Thank God for Queenie'. The Queenie story is a long one that merits its own psychiatric session, since I am in 'jealous dog denial'.

What's the longest time you've ever kept a secret? My longest is 21 years, which Idefinitely qualified me to handle knowing the result three months in advance of the Ivor Novello Awards. However, it was so much harder not telling X-Press 2 (Rocky, Diesel and Ashley Beedle) that their song 'Lazy' had scooped the well-deserved prize directly before the event at the sit-down meal. I managed it though, I figured that since I'd been to their parties, bumped into them in shops - and everywhere I went they'd seemed to be, I could keep schtum for long enough to enjoy their reactions. Let's just say that Ashley needed a handkerchief. Ah! As winners of an 'Ivor' they were in the same company as Coldplay, David Gray, U2, Brian Wilson and UB40 and I hope that this award brings them more of the same success in the future. Now that was an afternoon that led to an evening DJ'ing at Discotec at The End, which led to a really major hangover and a Friday evening on the sofa!

June and Amsterdam left me feeling just a little flat, for one reason or another I returned wishing that I could pass the worst experiences off as a bad dream, especially since the best bits (when I hooked up with Dave Lee / Joey Negro, Diedra and Nick from Azuli at the heaving from the rafters Z Party at Paradiso) reminded me of what it's like to go to a great club night and dance your ass off. The crowd there was able to enjoy music played at the right speed and rocked to disco and house. In addition, the club has this surreal chandelier made out of CDs as it's centrepiece and as for Nick's Triple Toe Loop behind the decks, I'm still laughing now! A little bird told me that Nick, Dave and Diedra were not home to callers on Saturday, though I can't think why that would be!

It's been a particularly good month for my Dance Party Live radio show
with great mixes from Deep Dish (DC) - already archived on this site - Pete Hayward (Wild Fruit), Mat St Marie (Montreal), Marques Wyatt (LA), whilst there are mixes still to come from Martin Solveig (FR), DJ Gregory (FR), Honey Dijon (NYC) and Key 103's Andy Price (MCR) - a truly stellar line-up, even though I arrange it all myself.

And yes, the wedding(s) countdown has begun. After much deliberation, the Bridesmaid dresses have been purchased but as is normal with weddings, the shoes and accessories are still under debate. I want nothing less than the matching lime stiletto pumps (the dress is a delicate neutral chiffon with a light lime, watercolour tropical leaf pattern on it): at least I'll feel confident enough wearing them again. White would work too but such irony isn't really acceptable at a wedding, now is it

It's 6am on Monday morning and I've realised that thanks to the lovely Annik's distraction of just being here, this has taken me the most ridiculous amount of hours to write. Mind you, I've forgiven here already since it's her first ever trip to London and so far we've unsuccessfully been to Porchester Spa (the gorgeous Art Deco Turkish Steam Baths in Queensway) which had called last admissions so we couldn't get in. I made a glorious dinner as a consolation prize and we watched men fishing on the Grand Union Canal at 2am in the morning. Now it's raining again, I'm wondering if it's going to stop, at least for one day this week, so that Annik, Mat and I can get lost in the Hampton Court Maze. It always rains when it's Wimbledon. Maybe they should move it to September or October - Autumn and rain are joined at the grid.

Speaking of things that move, here are my dates:


4th Oct / Lifthouse, Switzerland
12th Oct / Black and Blue Main Event (headliner), Montreal
24th Oct / Trailer @ Heaven (London)
25th Oct / Plan B, Brixton
31st Oct / DJ Mag Top 100 VIP rm, Turnmills (London)


That's all for now: tune in at the same time, in your next free moment for more of the same and if you can make it to a gig, don't be a stranger! Until then, I'm out of here like I stole something: see you next time!


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