In da club...

Please excuse any typos this morning.  I crawled into bed at 7.00 this morning so I'm doing this rather quickly before removing myself to the deckchair for the day.

As you know, last night we went to Amnesia to see Fat Boy Slim, but the kids had told us that we shouldn't get there till 1.00, so we headed into Ibiza Town for a few drinks to warm up.  This was going really well, until daughter number one sidled up to me to tell me that daughter number two's dress had a rather large hole in it which looked too far gone for safety pins.  Taking her to one side, we gently  suggested that she might need to buy a new dress (there was no way we were going back home to get changed).  

There were still a few dress shops open at midnight, so we stuck daughter number two in a changing room, while the ever so helpful assistant (imagine this to be dripping with sarcasm if you will.  She was as much use as a one legged man at an arse kicking party) produced dress after dress.  She eventually found one which fitted, and saying the old adage, 'Can I wear it home?' we headed back to where the boys were waiting.

More drinks in another bar, and we finally decided that it was time to go to the club.  

And what a time the husband and I had.  It would appear that they don't see very many 54 year olds dancing to trance music, and we became minor celebrities for the night/morning.  In fact, a very young chap came and asked me to dance, having asked permission from the husband first of course. There were confetti drops and ice canons (basically a very cold blast of air conditioning which was shot out across the crowd rendering you blind for about five seconds). These cold blasts happened every ten minutes or so, and after the third, I was soaked through.  

The husband at this point thought it would be exciting to get as near to the front as possible (Fat Boy Slim was now in the chair) so we hustled past kids until we were almost at touching distance.  When the ice canon went  off the next time, we were rather too close, and if I hadn't have been clinging to the husband's best trousers, I would have ended up at the back of the room.

So to recap...

Danced like a wild thing for five hours
Deaf in both ears
Can't walk due to aforementioned dancing
Can't speak due to screaming (mainly at the ice canon)
Financially stripped (water at 9 euros a bottle)

But the kids had an amazing time (as did the husband who was giving it everything he had), and it was so funny seeing them see us in a different light.  They danced with us and were really proud to say to onlookers that we were their parents, and at the end of the night/day, the club photographer came and took a photo of us all.

And here we are...



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