Sunday 30th June
I am hungover!
It was Mrs S’s birthday yesterday so Mrs S, Mrs T, Mrs B, Mrs M and myself went out to celebrate. We met early for cocktails, then went to a new Turkish restaurant for dinner (more cocktails and two bottles of pink fizz) before moving on to the main event which was the Take That concert being shown at the cinema (the same concert that Mrs T, Mrs B and I had, last month, gone to see twice in the same week at The O2) and where three more bottles of pink fizz were consumed.
The food in the restaurant was lovely, albeit huge portions that we struggled to finish and Mrs S, Mrs B and Mrs M were entertained by a couple who decided to have a disagreement with the waiter and were promptly manhandled through the front door by a gang of his colleagues who seemed to appear from nowhere. Mrs T and I missed this spectacle because we were busy entertaining ourselves by trying to work out how to use the selfie mirror that was outside the ladies toilets, before deciding that it must be something only the younger generation are able to figure out and going back to our pink fizz instead.
We were expecting the Take That cinema experience to be much like being at the concert, a bunch of women of a certain age, slightly tipsy, dancing and singing, while calling out the occasional crude comment to Gary or Howard. We were all in agreement that Mark wasn’t aging particularly well and really needed to cut his hair. However, it was like an organised night out from the jolly retirement home. The people in the row behind us were 80 if they were a day and sat, feet up in their recliners, and didn’t so much as crack a smile never mind sing or dance throughout the whole two hours. It didn’t stop us of course and Mrs T and I were up, and in the aisle, as soon as we heard the opening chords of ‘Shine’.
The concert finished and it was only 10.30, much too early to go home, although as Mrs M’s daughter was nearby with her car, Mrs M and Mrs S took the opportunity of a lift home. Mrs T, Mrs B and I decided to go on to a local bar which stayed open until 1am and had music and everything. We spent the next hour and a half consuming more wine and amusing ourselves at what the youth of today like to call fashion. I mean smart shirts and cycling shorts? Really? We decided that clearly none of their mothers were home when they left the house because why would you let your child go out looking so ridiculous?
By the time we decided to call it a night I was starting to feel like I should have had more water with dinner and less pink fizz. I parted ways with Mrs T and Mrs B, who went off to catch the late bus, while I joined the queue outside the cab office across the road from the pub where two guys, who were being very civil to one another, both had blood pouring down their faces due to the thrashing that they had given each other just before I had arrived. The guy in front of me (who claimed he was thirty but looked about nineteen) decided to inform me that he was feeling sad because he hadn’t ‘pulled’ and was going home alone to watch porn, unless I would like to join him? I politely declined explaining that I didn’t think my husband would be best pleased, so he then proceeded to tell me how he liked girls with big tits and how mine were pretty big and if we had met in a club, he would have had a little feel up!!! WTF? To be fair to him he didn’t say any of this in a creepy, leery way but in a very polite manner. I, equally politely, pointed out that I really didn’t think you could say and do those things in this day and age and he would ‘have had a feel up’ entirely at his own risk because I was the type of woman who was very capable of handling herself! When his cab turned up, he very politely, told me to look after myself and wished me a good night!
So it was that I spent the majority of Sunday laying in the garden, wondering if a hair of the dog might clear my head and trying to stop Eldest Child and Middle Child from drowning each other in the paddling pool. Youngest Child had come home from the Mother in Law’s, where she had stayed the night and had now gone to the seaside with Best Friend, from next door but one. The Husband (after fixing the curtain pole) spent the day moving from bed, to garden swing (where he spent a couple of hours asleep) and then to the sofa. He did kindly go and pick up my car from his mother’s, where I had left it last night, having gone straight out to meet the girls after dropping Youngest Child at her house. So, all in all a lazy, fairly relaxing Sunday, that is until the evening came. I started to dread the thought of going into work tomorrow after my shocking behaviour on Friday! I Wonder if I should just resign?