FAF ball was in the Scores hotel, a good venue for any low-key party. The lower budget was used brilliantly with what I can only assume was the Union’s entire year’s supply of condoms scattered like sweets on every table, as well as the incredibly subtle pseudo-phallic idea of giving every girl a lock and every boy a key, so they could find their partners (and then do what—I don’t know, let’s not question the medics.) Unlike most events in St Andrews it was incredibly relaxed, with everyone throwing condoms around like five year olds and dancing until the room was unbearably hot.
The Ceilidh, as always, was the star of the show, with everyone packed and sweaty, arm locked and bumping off one another with great gusto. The band adored the attention they received, with clear demonstrators to walk through the steps and encourage even the laziest of people (me) to waltz with overenthusiastic, out-of-breath, tux-wearing strangers. Luckily my partner was tee-total, so while I bumbled around and stepped on many toes, I was guided into a waltz that would shame most people there.
After the Ceilidh, the DJs stepped up. First came two third year medics I was dubious about – but the seamless blend of Dancing in the Moonlight and other karaoke classics proved a huge hit as everyone flocked to dance. Josh Sharpe then took over, and at about midnight – when numbers sagged – the sudden switch to 50s music was Hot Dub Time Machine levels of genius. The somewhat overpriced bar with a broken card machine was problematic, but as least it stopped everyone from getting kicked out for extreme over-drinking (well, not everyone, but what can you expect really from the future of the NHS.)
All in all I had a brilliant night. I can only suggest partying with the medics; they know how to have a good time without pesky things such as money and alcohol stopping them.
Photo Credit: Lightbox Creative St Andrews