Limassol Carnival’s Grand Parade – one of Europe’s biggest carnival spectaculars. And this year, I finally got to be in it! There were the amazing costumes, dancing and music. Plus a little bribery, a lot of vodka and a very public wee . . .

I’d been trying to be in the carnival for five years. I love how OTT it is. From the incredible floats to the flamboyant outfits. It’s pure revelry and the atmosphere is electrifying. It wasn’t enough to be a spectator. I wanted to be right in the middle of it, soaking up the energy.

Except I hadn’t a clue how to enter.

That is until Herc’s childminder, Sennie, mentioned that she helps organise the Filipino parade and was going to be dancing in the carnival this year.

And that was that. I sort of invited myself along.

The fact that I was tall, blonde and Scandinavian-looking was neither here nor there. No one would notice, would they?

It turned out that Sennie had a solution to my very non-Filipino appearance. I gave her the money for my costume and a few weeks later she delivered an incredible full head mask. The theme was recycling and the mask was made from cardboard, plastic bottles and straws. All you could see were my eyes and mouth. Not a single blonde hair in sight.

To go with the mask, there was a shoulder mantle and a skirt – made entirely from cardboard and hundreds of plastic straws. The straws had even been woven into a waist band and a decorative flower. It was utterly incredible.

It was only then that I realised Sennie had made my outfit herself. It must have taken her hours. And she’d made a mini one for Herc too. I felt so bad I’d put her to all that trouble. And so incredibly grateful too.

The Filipino parade is always one of my favourites every year. I love the colourful costumes and the dance routines. They had just won the parade competition at Nicosia’s carnival the previous weekend. It felt such an honour to join them this year and I dutifully rehearsed my dance steps. I didn’t want to let them down.

However, carnival morning arrived and one thing threatened my debut parade. Guaba’s Carnival Fiesta the night before. I was knackered after clubbing my arse off in a red wig and €9.99 sequinned dress from Jumbo.

We met at the park to rehearse our routine, before walking to where all the floats were parked at the eastern end of Archbishop Makarios III Avenue. Already the atmosphere was buzzing. People laughing, drinking, dancing, as they waited their turn to start their parade.

And it was a long wait! We were float 44 and we waited nearly two hours before it was our turn to move off. I chatted to the Filipino ladies and swigged vodka to keep my energy up (!). The Filipino ladies were wonderful. So welcoming, so friendly. They gave me some delicious noodles, we took pictures together, shared stories. I’ve travelled around most of South East Asia and enjoyed the warm hospitality of the people there. But I’ve never been to the Philippines – yet!

Finally we were told we were going to start soon. And it was then that I discovered a problem. I was BUSTING for the loo after all that water and vodka-swigging.

I raced up and down the street looking for a cafe to go into. Except the loos I found were shut. Even Starbucks had barricaded the entrance to their toilets. The arses.

My body has humiliated me in the past and an image of me pissing my pants in front of thousands of spectators flashed through my mind. I legged it into the nearest supermarket and waved a €20 note at the check-out lady.

‘Please can I use your loo???? I’ll pay you €20.’

It works in movies, right?

She looked at me stony-faced.

‘No.’

Shitting hell.

I stuffed the €20 into my waistband and ran round the back of the supermarket, hoping to find something to go behind. Nothing. Not even a bin or the tiniest shrub.

But then I spotted a beautiful Filipino princess in a voluminous yellow gown with butterfly wings reaching out of the back. Her bumblebee friend had the same look of panic in her eyes as I did.

‘Is there a toilet anywhere??!!’ I asked them. They couldn’t find one either.

I caught sight of a row of smug men pissing among some trees by the side of the road and thought, sod it.

‘What about there?’ I suggested.

The trees were too close to a fence to hide behind but I didn’t care at this point. Our parade would be leaving any minute!

‘Here, I’ll hide you behind my dress.’ said the princess.

And she gracefully fanned out her beautiful gown while I squatted behind her. Classy.

During that wee, I discovered four things:

1. I was squatting where someone else had just done a wee.
2. It’s almost impossible to hold a skirt out of the way when it’s made of hundreds of plastic straws.
3. While concentrating on 2, I forgot about the hanging popper bit of my Jumbo leotard. It got weed on.
4. Staring up at me from my puddle of wee was the €20 toilet-bribe that had fallen out of my waistband and was now soaked with piss.

Bugger.

But there was no time to laugh or cry. I dashed back to our float with Filipino princess and Bumblebee. Just in time.

We were off!

As we danced down Archbishop Makarios III Avenue, the experience was an overwhelming assault on the senses. Music pounding in your ears, hundreds of people laughing, clapping, blowing hooters. Children ran in front of me, spraying silly-spray in my face. I danced through clouds of shredded paper that rained down my top.

It was disorientating too; the mask blocking my peripheral vision. But within the crowd, I spotted people I knew who cheered me on. They were like anchors in a sea of chaos and festivity.

Finally, I spotted the faces I most wanted to find – Matt, Goobie and Herc. Goobie ran up to me, excited and – dare I say it – with a look of pride in his eyes. Usually it’s embarrassment. He was very adamant that he didn’t want to be in the carnival himself.

And now it was Herc’s turn for the final bit of the parade. Matt passed him over the barriers, the gorgeous mini costume Sennie had made him already broken after too much enthusiastic attention. I scooped him up and danced off with him.

I wondered whether all the noise, faces and silly-spray would bother him. But there was only one thing on his mind – what had happened to Mummy’s head?? I lifted up the mask so he could see that it was me underneath.

And then he spotted his beloved Sennie and he joined her in the dance.

Being in Limassol Carnival 2020 was a wonderful, crazy, overwhelming experience. I’m so grateful to the wonderful Filipino ladies who welcomed me into their parade. It’s a memory of Cyprus that I will treasure.

Ironically, I didn’t see many of the other parades this year, but here are some pictures that Matt took. Awesome!