Lives
Is going out over?
Young life
by Serena Smith
It’s early in the morning on New Year’s Day 2022. I’m in a room full of people—some I know and love, some I don’t know too well, some I don’t know at all. Jools Holland is on the TV, muted but with the subtitles on, while Mall Grab thuds through a speaker. I’m sipping prosecco from a red paper cup, thinking about how much I missed parties and going out while we were in lockdown.
As I lived in a tiny, rural town pre-university, the first few times I went out required catching a train to the nearest city; Worcester. My friends and I would religiously stick to the same routine each time: totter to Sin on New Street; stagger up to Bushwackers (better known as “Bushies” or just “Bush”) at 1am; then finally retire to McDonald’s and conclude the night by eating hot fries out of a grease-stained, brown paper bag. I enjoyed clubbing, even then, when “Will Griggs on Fire” was played at least three times a night and the dress code demanded that all girls wear heels.