Monday, 13 March 2017

Little Willy...

I am a broken woman.  Forty eight hours of celebrations can do that.

We had the husband's birthday party on Saturday night, and the rhubarb gin was flowing ferociously. I made the mistake of recommending it to several of our guests, which may mean that supplies are limited for the next week or so, but you can't keep something as wonderful as that all to yourself can you?  You have to spread the love (and the juniper berries)...

In the end there were thirty four of us.  Son number two went down with something which prevented him from being too far away from home, if you know what I mean.  ELL, his best-friend-now-girlfriend was on standby with a bucket and a disinfectant spray, which was very kind of her.  I did suggest that she should still come to the party, and leave son number two to wallow in his own despair (and other less savoury stuff) and there was a suggestion of doubt in her eyes.  Unfortunately, one look from son number two, who by then was resembling Caspar the ghost, was enough to persuade her to be his carer for the night.  I shall have to talk to her about this.  We all know what men are like when they are ill, and us ladies shouldn't pander to their pathetic pain thresholds.  

So we all had a lovely time.  I don't want to say anything bad about the pub we were eating out, but one of the courses left a little to be desired.  But everything turned out fine as instead of a main course, I had two extra rhubarb gins, so I wasn't worried.  Starving, yes, but worried?  No...

We had planned to do some dancing (not the swing stuff we've been learning, just some of that side-to-side dad dancing that is so popular with those of us of a certain age).  However, I had left the husband in charge of the music, and when Baccara came on, belting out 'Yes sir, I can boogie', my heart sank. This was swiftly followed by 'It started with a kiss' (Hot Chocolate) and then, with a big fanfare, we launched into Blue Monday by New Order.  The husband had asked for a 1970's/80's mix of music, which to him meant T-Rex, The Cult and Nickelback (Yes, I know that they are a 90's band, but his music knowledge is sketchy to say the least).  Where was the Grease Megamix/Jive Bunny/Abba?  Now that really would have got the dodgy hips a-swinging.

So there was no dancing which was a shame, but bearing in mind that there were a couple of steps close to where the dancing might have been, perhaps it was just as well our friends remained seated. I'm not sure that any kiss of life I could have given would have helped, bearing in mind the amount of alcohol consumed...

Miss R flicked the alcohol switch from respectable WI lady to kerb-side lush around 10.00, which meant that she just had to give a speech.  The words were lovely, and her speech was short.  This was a welcome surprise, as anyone who knows her will have experience of her ability to 'go on a bit'.  The husband responded with some lovely words of his own, and declared his love for me in front of everyone.  I'm not too sure what I was surprised at more to be honest.  The fact that he managed to locate me in the room as I was in the process of having a mingle, or that he was actually standing up unaided at the time. Many pints of Guinness had been imbibed by then, and a modicum of support was becoming necessary.

After the speeches had been done, Miss R turned to me and asked me if I fancied doing a 2.8km open swim with her.  I turned my head slightly, as I was sure she must have been talking to someone else, but when I looked back, and she said 'Well?' I realised that she was in fact asking me.  This would be me, the lady who can just about do 400m in the local pool as long as she is in Mrs S's slipstream. 'No, I don't think so', I said.  'There's things with teeth in the river, and it'll be bloody freezing'.  Her response?  'You can wear a wet suit..'

Oh great, so not only am I floundering in a river looking like a one-flippered haddock, I am now also sporting a wet suit and running the risk of being mistaken for an extra from Free Willy.  I declined the offer of exhaustion and humiliation,  but the husband said that he would be willing to do it, as long as it was a downhill river he would be swimming...

He's very silly sometimes...


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