Here’s the first poem I’ve written inspired by my poetry challenge. Someone over on Facebook suggested the idea, ‘Dancing like no-one is looking, then noticing that they ALL are!’
I went out drinking with a friend,
We both knew how the night would end.
Laughter, fun and raucous dancing,
Stopping life from fast advancing.
Dressed in heels and make-up on,
Our fear and inhibitions gone.
We ate a meal – how civilised,
Excitement only just disguised.
A cocktail first and then one more,
We headed off towards the door.
Towards the club where deep within,
Our fantasy would soon begin.
Went out with the girls for a karaoke night last week – sing-song and a meal. Never been to one before but had always wanted to try it. Was nervous about finally doing it but thought, ‘I’m in a choir therefore I must be able to sing: I’m going to give it a go.’ Keep on reading!
Disclaimer: We didn’t go to see the film for the sake of the film – we KNOW it’s not a great piece of cinematic loveliness with a thought-provoking plot, deep and meaningful messages and Oscar worthy performances. We went for the whole experience: the food, the drinks, the laughs and a great girls’ night out. Nobody judge us… Keep on reading!
Last Saturday was our girls’ Christmas night out.
Spent morning laying out dress (long-sleeved to cover up flabby armpits), shoes (4″ red patent leather – I kid you not), underwear (including support tights and suck-it-all-in knickers), handbag (large enough to hold Tena lady, reading glasses and earplugs), make-up (thick enough to fill in the wrinkles) and jewellery. Keep on reading!
Went to local pub quiz with the girls – just to reinforce the venue, I did say PUB quiz.
Got there early to stock up on alcohol. Went to bar to order what would be first of several bottles of red wine.
Isn’t that what a pub’s supposed to serve? Wine?
They had two bottles – no, not two bottles behind the bar, and the rest in the cellar – two bottles in the entire pub.
Aghast looks were passed between us. To add insult to injury, one of the bottles we were being offered was half empty. So the reality of the situation was that they had one and a half bottles of red wine – on the entire premises.
I asked how long it had been opened, to which the answer came back, “No idea.” Helpful. “I’d like to taste it please,” I requested.
A glass was produced and a mouthful poured in. Said small amount was tipped into my mouth, registered on my taste buds then promptly spat back out again. Nice vinegar for your chips love, but under no circumstances could that noxious liquid you’re trying to fob us off with be described as red wine.
We ordered g&ts instead, forced down several packets of cheap crisps and came last in the quiz.
We’ve vowed never to set foot in the place again.
Met a friend last night for dinner at new gin bar & restaurant. Huge list of gins served in goldfish bowls on stems – lush. All come with various adornments floating in them: peel, flavoured beans and fruit. Loved the idea of the previous three but drew the line at flower petals – don’t really want shrubbery floating in my drink. Thanks.
Picked a table in the window – had decided this was the bar to be seen in. Tables were all high with tall stools. ‘How trendy and cutting edge’ I thought, until I tried to sit down – in my short tight dress. My unfortunate choice of outfit allowed nowhere near the amount of movement and flexibility required to haul myself up onto the stool. And if I’d thought I could manage it with my dignity intact, I was sadly mistaken. Friend found this extremely amusing. Wearing her much more suitable skinny jeans she’d mounted her stool with grace, elegance and panache. Had she been forewarned?!
At the end of the evening bitterly regretted choosing a table in the window. Yes, this was the bar to be seen in – sitting demurely sipping gin, nibbling on the stylish hors d’oeuvres and politely acknowledging my friend’s jokes with tinkly, sophisticated laughter.
However, this was not the bar to be seen in when trying to climb down from the stool, getting my heel caught on the crossbar, missing my footing and slinging gin everywhere!
Really? Oh yes…
Have decided will no longer be wearing my big ‘squeeze it all in’ knickers. Think they might be why I feel a little queasy at the end of girls’ nights out. No, the number of cocktails consumed has absolutely nothing to do with it.
Big ‘squeeze it all in’ knickers are great in theory but in reality, I ask you, where does all the flab actually go?
It would be great to think it was going to be pushed up into my bra to give me a decent pair of boobs, but alas no. It actually does two things – neither of which is the slightest bit helpful. The flab squeezed up and out of the top of the knickers settles in a roll just below my bra, making me look like Hattie Jacques in Carry on Matron. The flab squeezed down and out of the bottom of the knickers settles in a roll across my thighs, making me look like a Russian shot putter that’s gone to seed.
The overall look is of a doughnut with an elastic band round its middle.
Not a look I’ll be chasing anymore. In future, if I’m feeling a little queasy at the end of a girls’ night out, I’ll have to come up with another excuse for the cause of it.
On Saturday went to the theatre to see a musical with a friend. We do this regularly, and naturally make a night of it. We also usually end up dancing in the aisles. Even when it’s not necessarily called for…
The evening isn’t just about the show though: