Tapping on the line...

It's just what you need after a week of overtime (on top of your normal day).  Don a pair of dodgy fishnets and a red wig and hang out with semi dressed males, whilst screaming abuse at Dom Joly as he tries to do a narrating job.

Such is the joy of the Rocky Horror Show.  Now I'm no virgin (don't panic ladies, this is what you call someone who has never seen the movie or the stage show) and neither is my best friend Mrs S, but our two daughters (number two on my part) and Miss S had never been.  When we suggested this night out some months ago, naturally the topic of dressing up was raised.  The two girls, who are not too shy when out with their relative buddies, opted for the parts of the frumpy Brad and Janet.  Mrs S had already bagsied the part of Magenta, the Eastern European French maid, and I was up for Columbia, the tap dancing good time girl from New York.

We had decided to all get ready at daughter number two's flat as the theatre was only seven minutes away (everything is seven minutes away in Milton Keynes I've come to learn)) and half an hour after arriving at daughter number two's flat, we were in the taxi and heading for the show.

Unfortunately, we did seem to be in the minority of those who had made an effort, but by the time we sat down, the large drink which daughter number two had plied me with was beginning to take effect, and I'll be honest with you, I didn't give a hoot what the jeans-clad audience might have thought.

Plonking myself down in my seat, I turned to the two ladies (not dressed up at all) and said, 'Good evening ladies'.  The younger of the two looked my up and down, from my gold top hat to my tap shoes and said these immortal words...

'Me and my mother have never seen this before.  Have you come dressed as one of the characters?'

If you knew how much self control it took not to say to her that I 'always dress like this. In fact this is my smart-casual look', you would be suitably impressed, but I settled with a doffing of my hat (there was a lot of that all night), and a 'Yes, I've come as the tap dancing harlot'.

Well the show was great, and we ended up at the after show party with around two hundred other people in a state of undress.  There's something very liberating about dressing up so that you are unrecognisable to those that know you, and last night I tap danced (very badly) around various bars and clubs without a care in the world.

There were only a couple of small hiccups when my bag zip got caught in my fishnets, and walking to the ladies with my pink suede bag swinging from my inner thighs is not probably one of my finer moments, but overall, the night was a complete success, finished off with more dancing in Milton Keynes LGBGT night club (not sure there enough letters in that).  

Walking down the metal staircase as we left the club, a small group of bouncers were watching me come down, and I decided that maybe there was still a little life left in this old bird.

As I reached the bottom, the one nearest to me said, 'I've never know anyone come down those stairs and make so much bloody noise'.

Aah, that will be my taps....