Socks and hugs and sausage roll ...

Ok, so maybe not quite as catchy as the Ian Dury and the Blockheads song title but hey, I try!

Now, as I'm sure many of you live your lives vicariously through my mad social whirl* I thought you might like an update on my weekend activities.

Last night I played Bingo.

Yep, 'key of the door', 'legs 11', 'two fat ladies' ... etcetera, etcetera, etcetera ...

I have to say (and I am unleashing my inner bitch a little here)  that there did seem to be a rather large proportion of ... well, largely proportioned ladies there.

At this point I am reminded of Big D's words of wisdom:

‎'Judge not lest you judge not you ...... hmmm, yes, just consider that Mum!'. 


It's just as well they weren't judging a wet tee-shirt competition, I'd have been laughed out of the line up!!!


Never before has such a collection of ENORMOUS boobs been seen in such numbers in such a small place.  


(and never before has 'eye down' seemed quite so appropriate)


I can only assume that there must have been a row of wheelbarrows lined up outside in readiness for the trip home.


The start was delayed slightly by a lady who had mislaid her Bingo books.  Much bra strap hitchin' and death ray stares at the lady to her left  (had she PINCHED her books???)  


They were eventually located hiding under the triumph to ...well triumph Im guessing of her  (surely award winning) architecturally outstanding, gravity defying, double barreled slingshots  which were resting on the table and had hidden her books.


Thank f*ck for that! 


Believe me you wouldn't want one of THOSE going off in an enclosed space without a protective wall of sandbags to hide behind! 


Just in case you were wondering what a girl like me was doing in a place like that ...  


I confess, I kind of love it really (but shh, that's just between us ok).  


I make them tea and serve them cake.. I carry their spoils out to their cars. I admire the photos of their grandchildren and I smile sweetly when their husbands (many with matching moobs) pat my arse and tell me what a lovely young girl I am.


Sod it, I don't get called a young girl often enough these days not to take my compliments when and where I can get them ...

If you are now starting to worry about me (those of you who didn't already that is).

In order redress the balance,  I shall, next Saturday, be attending one of my very best friends vaffanculo soiree!!

You may not all swear fluently in Italian so,  the polite translation of that is:

 'fuck you.' (you want to know the rude version?  Check it out on google:).

 It's pretty sure to be a drunken and debauched evening for all involved and if not, I shall MAKE it so!

Photos no doubt to follow ...

My lovely N is off to Italy and I will MISS her!!!

We have shared so much over the last few years. Marriage breakups, parties, drunken night in and out.  Dog walking, long rambling conversations about life and love and of course vodka laced Pimms!

God I'm going to miss her ... :(

You might be wondering where the socks and hugs come in to this post ...

Today I met up with C.

Now C and I  'met'  on a dating website quite a while ago now and today was that momentous day that we actually MET.

It can be a bit of a minefield when you actually do the face to face thing.

It could be when you find out that they got someone else to write all their messages or they lifted a photo off the net and passed it off as themselves or, (and this is the unforgivable one for me) they arrive early and remain seated throughout the whole 'date' which goes pretty well until it's time to leave and you discover when they stand up that you've spent the last couple of hours with someone who only reaches your elbow!

(Of course there is also the strong possibility that I may have unintentionally mis-sold myself too and I'm not what they were expecting/hoping for.)

Being tall is not a prerequisite to my dating someone.

Ok, that's actually a bit of a  lie ...

I don't mind someone being a little shorter than me and lets face it, I'd be ruling out lots of men if it were!  BUT, (I'm sorry, shallow though it may sound) I do have a preference for men who don't make me feel like some kind of freaking giant.

Anyway,  C was as described and I didn't tower over him even in my boots so it was a good start.

Now, for a variety of reasons this wasn't what I would call a typical 'date' as such.

More two people who have got to know each other fairly well over a period of time. Sometimes with frequent contact, sometimes with less who just deciding that, as they seemed to get along pretty well, it was about time to  meet up for real.

C had mentioned that he needed some new socks at some point during one of our conversations (oh yes, racy stuff I know but it surprising where conversations sometimes lead;).

What is it with men and socks btw??

Actually, maybe it's me!  Maybe I'm to blame ...  Socks, colour co-ordinating washing, ironing ...  hmmm I've had all those conversations with men at some point.

For the record, I do as little ironing as I can possibly get away with and I just buy mountains of plain black socks for myself because I really can't be arsed with matching up pairs ect  also, other than separating white from darks I don't obsess about colour co-ordinating my washing.

nb. I really don't have a problem with you doing any of the above (and please feel free to do mine too) but I just don't, ok?

Oh, and I WILL steal YOUR socks should we ever be in a situation where I have access to them

Anyway, of all the things we could have been doing I thought that C might like ME to help him choose some socks.  I would like to say at this point that he DID agree that I could choose and I still can't personally see what was so wrong with the Star Wars socks ...

We did other stuff too of course.

We walked, we talked, we laughed.  We drank coffee, we people watched and we hugged.

I'd kind of forgotten how nice it is to be hugged.

Oh, and the sausage roll ... didn't have one ;)

*god help you if you do!