Wee willie winkie...

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The husband had a close call at Swing Club on Wednesday night.  A lovely gay couple joined us for the warm up, and I watched with trepidation as the 6'4" 'follower' (as opposed to leader) swapped partners around the circle, getting nearer and nearer to the husband.  Luckily, just as the 'camp as Christmas' gentleman was about to fall into the husband's arms for a kick flick and basic Charleston, they were sent off for the Intermediate Class downstairs.  The husband's relief was palpable, and I feel that there is now a second reason why we won't ever see the Intermediate Class.  As if being rubbish dancers wasn't a good enough reason...

The husband and I are now officially 'on vacation' for a few days.  The journey up was far from smooth sailing, with accidents, barrier repairs and speed limits all the way.  This started to become a problem for me somewhere around Warwick, when I realised that a trip to the loo was needed.  Unfortunately, the barrier repair men of Great Britain are not to be hurried, and we were almost in Stoke before a service station loomed on the horizon.  Ten minutes before this, we had watched a car pull up on the hard shoulder, and seen an elderly couple having words.  I imagine that the conversation was something like this...

'I'll go down by that tree Margaret, and you can go behind the hedge'
'If you think I am dropping my drawers on the M42 Bernard, then you don't know me very well'.
'Please yourself Margaret'...

Bernard then stood in full primal glory on the verge having a spectacular time (with obligatory shaking and knee bend) while Margaret remained in the car muttering about how she wished she'd bought that SheWee from the Mail on Sunday a couple of weeks ago.

Needless to say, seeing Bernard on the side of the road didn't help me at all, and some serious concentration was needed for the last ten minutes.

The husband had surpassed himself on the hotel front.  We are staying in the Titanic, a fully overhauled Tobacco warehouse, which has retained a lot of the original features.  I am looking forward to getting to know Liverpool, and am fully prepared with my fake tan, derriere-skimming dress and no vest (they don't feel the cold up here apparently). 

The husband is refusing to wear the curly perm wig and shellsuit which I brought up for him.

He's going to stick out like a pork pie at a Jewish wedding...


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